WRITINGS  OF 


CAPTAIN  CHARLES  KIN 


J.    L 


->- 


Phjlndelphia: 
J.  H.  Lippincott  Company 


The  Deserter. 


BY 


CAPTAIN  CHARLES  KING, 

U.  S.  ARMY, 
AUTHOR   OF    "THE   COLONEL'S   DAUGHTER,"    "MARION'S   FAITH,"    ETC.,    ETC. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPAIST. 


Copyright,  1887,  by  J.  B.  Lippincott  Company. 


LIPPINCOTT'S 
JyjONTHLY   ]y[AGAZINE. 


MAY,    18  8  7. 


THE  DESERTER 


PRELUDE. 


FAR  up  in  the  Northwest,  along  the  banks  of  the  broad,  winding 
stream  the  Sioux  call  the  Elk,  a  train  of  white-topped  army- 
wagons  is  slowly  crawling  eastward.  The  October  sun  is  hot  at  noon- 
day, and  the  dust  from  the  loose  soil  rises  like  heavy  smoke  and 
powders  every  face  and  form  in  the  guarding  battalion  so  that  features 
are  wellnigh  indistinguishable.  Four  companies  of  stalwart,  sinewy 
infantry,  with  their  brown  rifles  slung  over  the  shoulder,  are  striding 
along  in  dispersed  order,  covering  the  exposed  southern  flank  from  sud- 
den attack,  while  farther  out  along  the  ridge-line,  and  far  to  the  front 
and  rear,  cavalry  skirmishers  and  scouts  are  riding  to  and  fro,  search- 
ing every  hollow  and  ravine,  peering  cautiously  over  every  "  divide," 
and  signalling  "  halt"  or  "  forward"  as  the  indications  warrant. 

And  yet  not  a  hostile  Indian  has  been  seen  ;  not  one,  even  as  distant 
vedette,  has  appeared  in  range  of  the  binoculars,  since  the  scouts  rode 
in  at  daybreak  to  say  that  big  bands  were  in  the  immediate  neighbor- 
hood. It  has  been  a  long,  hard  summer's  work  for  the  troops,  and  the 
Indians  have  been,  to  all  commands  that  boasted  strength  or  swiftness, 
elusive  as  the  Irishman's  flea  of  tradition.  Only  to  those  whose  num- 
bers were  weak  or  whose  movements  were  hampered  have  they  appeared 
in  fighting-trim.  But  combinations  have  been  too  much  for  them,  and 
at  last  they  have  been  "  herded"  down  to  the  Elk,  have  crossed,  and 
are  now  shaking  to  make  their  way,  with  women,  children,  tepees,  dogs, 
"  travois,"  and  the  great  pony  herds,  to  the  fastnesses  of  the  Big  Horn ; 
and  now  comes  the  opportunity  for  which  an  old  Indian-fighter  has 
been  anxiously  waiting.  In  a  big  cantonment  he  has  held  the  main 
body  under  his  command,  while  keeping  out  constant  scouting-parties 
to  the  east  and  north.     He  knows  well  that,  true  to  their  policy,  the 

699 


700  THE  DESERTER. 

Indians  will  have  scattered  into  small  bands  capable  of  reassembling 
anywhere  that  signal  smokes  may  call  them,  and  his  orders  are  to 
w^atch  all  the  crossings  of  the  Elk  and  nab  them  as  they  come  into  his 
district.  He  watches,  despite  the  fact  that  it  is  his  profound  conviction 
that  the  Indians  will  be  no  such  idiots  as  to  come  just  where  they  are 
wanted,  and  he  is  in  no  wise  astonished  when  a  courier  comes  in  on 
jaded  horse  to  tell  him  that  they  have  "  doubled"  on  the  other  column 
and  are  now  two  or  three  days'  march  away  down  stream,  "  making  for 
the  big  bend."  His  own  scouting-parties  are  still  out  to  the  eastward  : 
he  can  pick  them  up  as  he  goes.  He  sends  the  main  body  of  his  in- 
fantry, a  regiment  jocularly  known  as  "  The  Riflers,"  to  push  for  a 
landing  some  fifty  miles  down-stream,  scouting  the  lower  valley  of  the 
Sweet  Root  on  the  way.  He  sends  his  wagon-train,  guarded  by  four 
companies  of  foot  and  two  of  horsemen,  by  the  only  practicable  road 
to  the  bend,  while  he,  with  ten  seasoned  "  troops"  of  his  pet  regiment, 
the  — th  Cavalry,  starts  forthwith  on  a  long  detour  in  which  he 
hopes  to  "  round  up"  such  bands  as  may  have  slipped  away  from  the 
general  rush.  Even  as  "  boots  and  saddles"  is  sounding,  other  couriers 
come  riding  in  from  Lieutenant  Crane's  party.  He  has  struck  the 
trail  of  a  big  band. 

When  the  morning  sun  dawns  on  the  picturesque  valley  in  which 
the  cantonment  nestled  but  the  day  before,  it  illumines  an  almost  de- 
serted village,  and  brings  no  joy  to  the  souls  of  some  twoscore  of  em- 
bittered civilians  who  had  arrived  only  the  day  previous,  and  whose 
unanimous  verdict  is  that  the  army  is  a  fraud  and  ought  to  be  abolished. 
For  four  months  or  more  some  three  regiments  had  been  camping, 
scouting,  roughing  it  thereabouts,  with  not  a  cent  of  pay.  Then  came 
the  wildly  exciting  tidings  that  a  boat  was  on  the  way  up  the  Missouri 
with  a  satrap  of  the  pay  department,  vast  store  of  shekels,  and  a  strong 
guard,  and  as  a  consequence  there  w^ould  be  some  two  thousand  men 
around  the  cantonment  with  pockets  full  of  money  and  no  one  to  help 
them  spend  it,  and  nothing  suitable  to  spend  it  on.  It  was  a  duty  all 
citizens  owed  to  the  Territory  to  hasten  to  the  scene  and  gather  in  for 
local  circulation  all  that  was  obtainable  of  that  disbursement ;  other- 
wise the  curse  of  the  army  might  get  ahead  of  them  and  the  boys 
would  gamble  it  away  among  themselves  or  spend  it  for  vile  whiskey 
manufactured  for  their  sole  benefit.  Gallatin  Valley  was  emptied  of 
its  prominent  practitioners  in  the  game  of  poker.  The  stream  w^as 
black  with  "  Mackinaw"  boats  and  other  craft.  There  was  a  rush  for 
the  cantonment  that  rivalled  the  multitudes  of  the  mining  days,  but  all 
too  late.  The  command  was  already  packing  up  when  the  first  con- 
tingent arrived,  and  the  commanding  officer,  recognizing  the  fraternity 
at  a  glance,  warned  them  outside  the  limits  of  camp  that  night,  declined 
their  services  as  volunteers  on  the  impending  campaign,  and  treated 
them  with  such  calmly  courteous  recognition  of  their  true  character 
that  the  Eastern  press  was  speedily  filled  with  sneering  comment  on 
the  hopelessness  of  ever  subduing  the  savage  tribes  of  the  Northwest 
when  the  government  intrusts  the  duty  to  upstart  officers  of  the  regular 
service  whoso  sole  conception  of  their  functions  is  to  treat  with  insult 
and  contempt  the  hardy  frontiersman  whose  mere  presence  with  the 


THE  DESERTER.  701 

command  would  be  of  incalculable  benefit.  "  We  have  it  from  indis- 
putable authority,"  says  The  Miner^s  Light  of  Brandy  Gap,  "  that  when 
our  esteemed  fellow-citizen  Hank  Mulligan  and  twenty  gallant  shots 
and  riders  like  himself  went  in  a  body  to  General at  the  canton- 
ment and  offered  their  services  as  volunteers  against  the  Sioux  now 
devastating  the  homesteads  and  settlements  of  the  Upper  Missouri  and 
Yellowstone  valleys,  they  were  treated  with  haughty  and  contemptu- 
ous refusal  by  that  bandbox  caricature  of  a  soldier  and  threatened 
with  arrest  if  they  did  not  quit  the  camp.  When  loill  the  United 
States  learn  that  its  frontiers  can  never  be  purged  of  the  Indian 
scourges  of  our  civilization  until  the  conduct  of  affairs  in  the  field  is 
intrusted  to  other  hands  than  these  martinets  of  the  drill-ground  ?  It 
is  needless  to  remark  in  this  connection  that  the  expedition  led  by 

General has  proved  a  complete  failure,  and  that  the  Indians  easily 

escaped  his  clumsily-led  forces." 

The  gamblers,  though  baffled  for  the  time  being,  of  course  "get 
square,"  and  more  too,  with  the  unfortunate  general  in  this  sort  of  war- 
fare, but  they  are  a  disgusted  lot  as  they  hang  about  the  wagon-train  as 
last  of  all  it  is  being  hitched-in  to  leave  camp.  Some  victims,  of  course, 
they  have  secured,  and  there  are  no  devices  of  commanding  officers  which 
can  protect  their  men  against  those  sharks  of  the  prairies  when  the  men 
themselves  are  bound  to  tempt  Providence  and  play.  There  are  two 
soowling  faces  in  the  cavalry  escort  that  has  been  left  back  with  the  train, 
and  Captain  Hull,  the  commanding  officer,  has  reprimanded  Sergeants 
Clancy  and  Gower  in  stinging  terms  for  their  absence  from  the  com- 
mand during  the  night.  There  is  little  question  where  they  spent  it, 
and  both  have  been  "  cleaned  out."  What  makes  it  worse,  both  have 
lost  money  that  belonged  to  other  men  in  the  command,  and  they  are 
in  bad  odor  accordingly. 

The  long  day's  march  has  tempered  the  joviality  of  the  entire 
column.  It  is  near  sundown,  and  still  they  keep  plodding  onward, 
making  for  a  grassy  level  on  the  river-bank  a  good  mile  farther. 

"  Old  Hull  seems  bound  to  leave  the  sports  as  far  behind  as  possi- 
ble, if  he  has  to  march  us  until  midnight,"  growls  the  battalion  adju- 
tant to  his  immediate  commander.  "  By  thunder !  one  would  think 
he  was  afraid  they  would  get  in  a  lick  at  his  own  pile." 

*'  How  much  did  you  say  he  was  carrying  ?"  asks  Captain  Rayner, 
checking  his  horse  for  a  moment  to  look  back  over  the  valley  at  the 
long,  dust-enveloped  column. 

"  Nearly  three  thousand  dollars  in  one  wad." 

"  How  does  he  happen  to  have  such  a  sum  ?" 

"  Why,  Crane  left  his  pay-accounts  with  him.  He  drew  all  that 
was  due  his  men  who  are  off  with  Crane, — twenty  of  them, — for  they 
had  signed  the  rolls  before  going,  and  were  expected  back  to-day.  Then 
he  has  some  six  hundred  dollars  company  fund ;  and  the  men  of  his 
troop  asked  him  to  take  care  of  a  good  deal  besides.  The  old  man  has 
been  with  them  so  many  years  they  look  upon  him  as  a  father  and  trust 
him  as  implicitly  as  they  would  a  savings-bank." 

"  That's  all  very  well,"  answers  Uayner  ;  "  but  I  wouldn't  want  to 
carry  any  such  sum  with  me." 


702  ^^^  DESERTER. 

"  It's  different  with  Hull's  men,  captain.  They  are  ordered  in 
through  the  posts  and  settlements.  They  have  a  three  weeks'  march 
ahead  of  them  when  they  get  through  their  scout,  and  they  want  their 
money  on  the  way.  It  was  only  after  they  had  drawn  it  that  the  news 
came  of  the  Indians'  crossing  and  of  our  having  to  jump  for  the  war- 
path. Everybody  thought  yesterday  morning  that  the  campaign  was 
about  over  so  far  as  we  are  concerned.  Halloo !  here  comes  young 
Hayne.     Now,  what  does  he  want  ?" 

Riding  a  quick,  nervous  little  bay  troop  horse,  a  slim-built  officer, 
with  boyish  face,  laughing  blue  eyes,  and  sunny  hair,  comes  loping  up 
the  long  prairie  wave  ;  he  shouts  cheery  greeting  to  one  or  two  brother 
subalterns  who  are  plodding  along  beside  their  men,  and  exchanges  some 
merry  chaff  with  Lieutenant  Ross,  who  is  prone  to  growl  at  the  luck 
which  has  kept  him  afoot  and  given  to  this  favored  youngster  a  "  mount" 
and  a  temporary  staff  position.  The  boy's  spirits  and  fun  seem  to  jar  on 
Rayner's  nerves.  He  regards  him  blackly  as  he  rides  gracefully  towards 
the  battalion  commander,  and  with  decidedly  nonchalant  ease  of  manner 
and  an  "  off-hand"  salute  that  has  an  air  about  it  of  saying,  "  I  do  this 
sort  of  thing  because  one  has  to,  but  it  doesn't  really  mean  anytliing, 
you  know,"  Mr.  Hayne  accosts  his  superior  : 

"  Ah,  good-evening,  captain.  I  have  just  come  back  from  the 
front,  and  Captain  Hull  directed  me  to  give  you  his  compliments  and 
say  that  we  would  camp  in  the  bend  yonder,  and  he  would  like  you  to 
post  strong  pickets  and  have  a  double  guard  to-night." 

"  Have  me  post  double  guards  !  How  the  devil  does  he  expect  me 
to  do  that  after  marching  all  day  ?" 

"I  did  not  inquire,  sir :  he  might  have  told  me  'twas  none  of  my 
business,  don't  you  know?"  And  Mr.  Hayne  has  the  insufferable 
hardihood  to  wink  at  the  battalion  adjutant, — a  youth  of  two  years' 
longer  service  than  his  own. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Hayne,  this  is  no  matter  for  levity,"  says  Rayner, 
angrily.  "  What  does  Captain  Hull  mean  to  do  with  his  own  men,  if 
I'm  to  do  the  guard  ?" 

"  That  is  another  point,  Captain  Rayner,  which  I  had  not  the  requi- 
site effrontery  to  inquire  into.  Now,  you  might  ask  him,  but  I  couldn't, 
don't  you  know  ?"  responds  Hayne,  smiling  amiably  the  while  into  the 
wrathful  face  of  his  superior.  It  serves  only  to  make  the  indignant 
captain  more  wrathful ;  and  no  wonder.  There  has  been  no  love  lost 
between  the  two  since  Hayiie  joined  the  Riflers  early  the  previous  year. 
He  came  in  from  civil  life,  a  city-bred  boy,  fresh  from  college,  full 
of  spirits,  pranks,  fun  of  every  kind  ;  a  wonderfully  keen  hand  with 
the  billiard-cue ;  a  knowing  one  at  cards  and  such  games  of  chance 
as  college  boys  excel  at ;  a  musician  of  no  mean  pretensions,  and  an 
irrepressible  leader  in  all  the  frolics  and  frivolities  of  his  comrades. 
He  had  leaped  to  popularity  from  the  start.  He  was  full  of  cour- 
tesy and  gentleness  to  women,  and  became  a  pet  in  social  circles.  He 
was  frank,  free,  off-handed  with  his  associates,  spending  lavishly, 
"  treating"  with  boyish  ostentation  on  all  occasions,  living  quite  en 
grand  seigneur,  for  he  seemed  to  have  a  little  money  outside  his  pay, 
— "  a  windfall  from  a  good  old  duffer  of  an  uncle,"  as  he  had  explained 


THE  DESERTER.  703 

it.  His  father,  a  scholarly  man  who  had  been  summoned  to  an  im- 
portant under-office  in  the  State  Department  during  the  War  of  the 
Rebellion,  had  lived  out  his  honored  life  in  Washington  and  died  poor, 
as  such  men  must  ever  die.  It  was  his  wish  that  his  handsome,  spirited, 
brave-hearted  boy  should  enter  the  army,  and  long  after  the  sod  had 
hardened  over  the  father's  peaceful  grave  the  young  fellow  donned  his 
first  uniform  and  went  out  to  join  "■  The  Riflers."  High-spirited,  joy- 
ous, full  of  laughing  fun,  he  was  "  Pet"  Hayne  before  he  had  been 
among  them  six  months.  But  within  the  year  he  had  made  one  or  two 
enemies.  It  could  not  be  said  of  him  that  he  showed  that  deference 
to  rank  and  station  which  was  expected  of  a  junior  officer ;  and  among 
the  seniors  were  several  whom  he  speedily  designated  "  unconscionable 
old  duffers"  and  treated  with  as  little  semblance  of  respect  as  a  second 
lieutenant  could  exhibit  and  be  permitted  to  live.  Rayner  prophesied  of 
him  that,  as  he  had  no  balance  and  was  burning  his  candle  at  both  ends, 
he  would  come  to  grief  in  short  order.  Hayne  retorted  that  the  only 
balance  that  Rayner  had  any  respect  for  was  one  at  the  banker's,  and 
that  it  was  notorious  in  Washington  that  the  captain's  father  had  made 
most  of  his  money  in  government  contracts,  and  that  the  captain's 
original  commission  in  the  regulars  was  secured  through  well-paid  Con- 
gressional influence.  The  fact  that  Rayner  had  developed  into  a  good 
officer  did  not  wipe  out  the  recollection  of  these  facts ;  and  he  could 
have  throttled  Hayne  for  reviving  them.  It  was  "  a  game  of  give  and 
take,"  said  the  youngster;  and  he  "behaved  himself"  to  those  who 
were  at  all  decent  in  their  manner  to  him. 

It  was  a  thorn  in  Rayner's  flesh,  therefore,  when  Hayne  joined  from 
leave  of  absence,  after  experiences  not  every  officer  would  care  to  en- 
counter in  getting  back  to  his  regiment,  that  Captain  Hull  should  have 
induced  the  general  to  detail  him  in  place  of  the  invalided  field  quarter- 
master when  the  command  was  divided.  Hayne  would  have  been  a 
junior  subaltern  in  Rayner's  little  battalion  but  for  that  detail,  and  it 
annoyed  the  captain  more  seriously  than  he  would  confess. 

"  It  is  all  an  outrage  and  a  blunder  to  pick  out  a  boy  like  that,"  he 
growls  between  his  set  teeth  as  Hayne  canters  blithely  away.  "  Here 
he's  been  away  from  the  regiment  all  summer  long,  having  a  big  time 
and  getting  head  over  ears  in  debt,  I  hear,  and  the  moment  he  rejoins 
they  put  him  in  charge  of  the  wagon-train  as  field  quartermaster.  It's 
putting  a  premium  on  being  young  and  cheeky, — besides  absenteeism," 
he  continues,  growing  blacker  every  minute. 

"  Well,  captain,"  answers  his  adjutant,  injudiciously,  "I  think 
you  don't  give  Hayne  credit  for  coming  baciv  on  the  jump  the  moment 
we  were  ordered  out.  It  was  no  fault  of  his  he  could  not  reach  us. 
He  took  chances  I  wouldn't  take." 

"  Oh,  yes !  you  kids  all  swear  by  Hayne  because  he's  a  good 
fellow  and  sings  a  jolly  song  and  plays  the  piano — and  poker.  One  of 
these  days  he'll  swamp  you  all,  sure  as  shooting.  He's  in  debt  noio, 
and  it'll  fetch  him  before  you  know  it.  What  he  needs  is  to  be  under 
a  captain  who  could  discipline  him  a  little.  By  Jove,  I'd  do  it !"  And 
Rayner's  teetli  emphasize  the  assertion. 

The  young  adjutant  thinks  it  advisable  to  say  nothing  that  may 


704  ^^^  DESERTER. 

provoke  further  vehemence.  All  the  same,  he  remembers  Rayner's 
bitterness  of  manner,  and  has  abundant  cause  to. 

When  the  next  morning  breaks,  chill  and  pallid,  a  change  has  come 
in  the  aspect  of  aifairs.  During  the  earliest  hour  of  the  dawn  the  red 
light  of  a  light-draught  river-boat  startled  the  outlying  pickets  down- 
stream, and  the  Far  West,  answering  the  muffled  hail  from  shore, 
responded,  through  the  medium  of  a  mate's  stentorian  tones,  "  News 
that'll  rout  you  fellows  out."  The  sun  is  hardly  peeping  over  the 
jagged  outline  of  the  eastern  hills  when,  with  Rayner's  entire  battalion 
aboard,  she  is  steaming  again  down-stream,  with  orders  to  land  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Sweet  Root.  There  the  four  companies  will  disembark  in 
readiness  to  join  the  rest  of  the  regiment. 

All  day  long  again  the  wagon-train  twists  and  wriggles  through  an 
ashen  section  of  Les  Mauvaises  Terres.  It  is  a  tedious,  trying  march 
for  Hull's  little  command  of  troopers, — all  that  is  now  left  to  guard  the 
train.  The  captain  is  constantly  out  on  the  exposed  flank,  eagerly 
scanning  the  rough  country  to  the  south,  and  expectant  any  moment  of 
an  attack  from  that  direction.  He  and  his  men,  as  well  as  the  horses, 
mules,  and  teamsters,  are  fairly  tired  out  when  at  nightfall  they  park  the 
wagons  in  a  big  semicircle,  with  the  broad  river  forming  a  shining 
chord  to  the  arc  of  white  canvas.  All  the  live-stock  are  safely  herded 
within  the  enclosure ;  a  few  reliable  soldiers  are  posted  well  out  to  the 
south  and  east,  to  guard  against  surprise,  and  the  veteran  Sergeant 
Clancy  is  put  in  command  of  the  sentries.  The  captain  gives  strict 
injunctions  as  to  the  importance  of  these  duties ;  for  he  is  far  from  easy 
in  his  mind  over  the  situation.  The  Riflers,  he  knows,  are  over  in  the 
valley  of  the  Sweet  Root.  The  steamer  with  Rayner's  men  is  tied  up 
at  the  bank  some  five  miles  below,  around  the  bend.  The — th  are 
far  off  to  the  northward  across  the  Elk,  as  ordered,  and  must  be 
expecting  on  the  morrow  to  make  for  the  old  Indian  "  ferry"  opposite 
Battle  Butte.  The  main  body  of  the  Sioux  are  reported  farther  down 
stream,  but  he  feels  it  in  his  bones  that  there  are  numbers  of  them 
within  signal,  and  he  wishes  with  all  his  heart  the  — th  were  here. 
Still,  the  general  was  sure  he  would  stir  up  war-parties  on  the  other 
shore.  Individually,  he  has  had  very  little  luck  in  scouting  during  the 
summer,  and  he  cannot  help  wishing  he  were  with  the  rest  of  the  crowd 
instead  of  here,  train-guarding. 

Presently  Mr.  Hayne  appears,  elastic  and  debonair  as  though  he 
had  not  been  working  like  a  horse  all  day.  His  voice  sounds  so  full  of 
cheer  and  life  that  Hull  looks  up  smilingly  : 

"  Well,  youngster,  you  seem  to  love  this  frontier  life." 

"  Every  bit  of  it,  captain.  I  was  cut  out  for  the  army,  as  father 
thought." 

"  We  used  to  talk  it  over  a  good  deal  in  the  old  days  when  I  was 
stationed  around  Washington,"  answers  Hull.  "  Your  father  was  the 
warmest  friend  I  had  in  civil  circles,  and  he  made  it  very  pleasant  for 
me.  How  little  we  thought  it  would  be  my  luck  to  have  you  for 
quartermaster !" 

"  The  fellows  seemed  struck  all  of  a  heap  in  the  Riflers  at  the  idea 
of  your  applying  for  me,  captain.     I  was  ready  to  swear  it  was  all  on 


THE  DESERTER.  705 

father's  account,  and  would  have  told  them  so,  only  Rayner  happened 
to  be  the  first  man  to  tackle  me  on  the  subject,  and  he  was  so  crusty 
about  it  I  kept  the  whole  thing  to  myself  rather  than  give  him  any 
satisfaction." 

"  Larry,  my  boy,  I'm  no  preacher,  but  I  want  to  be  the  friend  to 
you  your  father  was  to  me.  You  are  full  of  enthusiasm  and  life  and 
spirits,  and  you  love  the  army  ways  and  have  made  yourself  very  poj> 
ular  with  the  youngsters,  but  I'm  afraid  you  are  too  careless  and  inde- 
pendent where  the  seniors  are  concerned.  Rayner  is  a  good  soldier ; 
and  you  show  him  very  scant  respect,  I'm  told." 

"  Well,  he's  such  an  interfering  fellow.  They  will  all  tell  you  I'm 
respectful  enough  to — to  the  captains  I  like " 

"  That's  just  it,  Lawrence.  So  long  as  you  like  a  man  your  manner 
is  what  it  should  be.  What  a  young  soldier  ought  to  learn  is  to  be 
courteous  and  respectful  to  senior  officers  whether  he  likes  them  or  not. 
It  costs  an  effort  sometimes,  but  it  tells.  You  never  know  what  trouble 
you  are  laying  up  for  yourself  in  the  army  by  bucking  against  men  you 
don't  like.  They  may  not  be  in  position  to  resent  it  at  the  time,  but 
the  time  is  mighty  apt  to  come  when  they  loill  be,  and  then  you  are 
helpless." 

"  Why,  Captain  Hull,  I  don't  see  it  that  way  at  all.  It  seems  to 
me  that  so  long  as  an  officer  attends  to  his  duty,  minds  his  own  busi- 
ness, and  behaves  like  a  gentleman,  no  one  can  harm  him ;  especially 
when  all  the  good  fellows  of  the  regiment  are  his  friends,  as  they  are 
mine,  I  think,  in  the  Riflers." 

"Ah,  Hayne,  it  is  a  hard  thing  to  teach  a  youngster  that — that 
there  are  men  who  find  it  very  easy  to  make  their  juniors'  lives  a  burden 
to  them,  and  without  overstepping  a  regulation.  It  is  harder  yet  to  say 
that  friends  in  the  army  are  a  good  deal  like  friends  out  of  it :  one  only 
has  to  get  into  serious  trouble  to  find  how  few  they  are.  God  grant 
you  may  never  have  to  learn  it,  my  boy,  as  many  another  has  had  to, 
by  sharp  experience  !  Now  we  must  get  a  good  night's  rest.  You 
sleep  like  a  log,  I  see,  and  I  can  only  take  cat-naps.  Confound  this 
money  !     How  I  wish  I  could  get  rid  of  it !" 

"  Where  do  you  keep  it  to-night  ?" 

"  Right  here  in  my  saddle-bags  under  my  head.  Nobody  can 
touch  them  that  I  do  not  wake ;  and  my  revolver  is  here  under  the 
blanket.  Hold  on !  Let's  take  a  look  and  see  if  everything  is  all 
right."  He  holds  a  little  camp-lantern  over  the  bags,  opens  the  flap, 
and  peers  in.  "  Yes, — all  serene.  I  got  a  big  hunk  of  green  sealing- 
wax  from  the  paymaster  and  sealed  it  all  up  in  one  package  Math  the 
memorandum-list  inside.  It's  all  safe  so  far, — even  to  the  hunk  of 
sealing-wax. — What  is  it,  sergeant  ?" 

A  tall,  soldierly,  dark-eyed  trooper  appears  at  the  door- way  of 
the  little  tent,  and  raises  his  gauntleted  hand  in  salute.  His  language, 
though  couched  in  the  phraseology  of  the  soldier,  tells  both  in  choice 
of  words  and  in  the  intonation  of  every  phrase  that  he  is  a  man  M'hose 
antecedents  have  been  far  different  from  those  of  the  majority  of  the 
rank  and  file  : 

"  Will  the  captain  permit  me  to  take  my  horse  and  those  of  three 


706  THE  DESERTER. 

or  four  more  men  outside  the  corral  ?  Sergeant  Clancy  says  he  has  no 
authority  to  allow  it.  We  have  found  a  patch  of  excellent  grass,  sir, 
and  there  is  hardly  any  left  inside.  I  will  sleep  by  my  picket-pin,  and 
one  of  us  will  keep  awake  all  the  time,  if  the  captain  will  permit." 

"  How  far  away  is  it,  sergeant  ?" 

"  Not  seventy-five  yards,  sir, — close  to  the  river-bank  east  of  us." 

"  Very  well.  Send  Sergeant  Clancy  here,  and  I'll  give  the  necessary 
orders." 

The  soldier  quietly  salutes,  and  disappears  in  the  gathering  dark- 
ness. 

"  That's  what  I  like  about  that  man  Gower,"  says  the  captain,  after 
a  moment's  silence.  "  He  is  always  looking  out  for  his  horse.  If  he 
were  not  such  a  gambler  and  rake  he  would  make  a  splendid  first- 
sergeant.     Fine-looking  fellow,  isn't  he  ?" 

"Yes,  sir.  That  is  a  face  that  one  couldn't  well  forget.  Who 
was  the  other  sergeant  you  overhauled  for  getting  fleeced  by  those  sharps 
at  the  cantonment  ?" 

"  Clancy  ?     He's  on  guard  to-night.     A  very  different  character." 

"  I  don't  know  him  by  sight  as  yet.  Well,  good-night,  sir.  I'll 
take  myself  off  and  go  to  my  own  tent." 

Daybreak  again,  and  far  to  the  east  the  sky  is  all  ablaze.  The  mist 
is  creeping  from  the  silent  shallows  under  the  banks,  but  all  is  life  and 
vim  along  the  shore.  With  cracking  whip,  tugging  trace,  sonorous 
blasphemy,  and  ringing  shout,  the  long  train  is  whirling  6head  almost 
at  the  run.  All  is  athrill  with  excitement,  and  bearded  faces  have  a 
strange,  set  look  about  the  jaws,  and  eyes  gleam  with  eager  light  and 
peer  searchingly  from  every  rise  far  over  to  the  southeast,  where  stands 
a  tumbling  heap  of  hills  against  the  lightening  sky.  "  Off  there,  are 
they?"  says  a  burly  trooper,  dismounting  hastily  to  tighten  up  the 
"  cinch"  of  his  weather-beaten  saddle.  "  We  can  make  it  quick  enough, 
's  soon  as  we  get  rid  of  these  blasted  wagons."  And,  swinging  into 
saddle  again,  he  goes  cantering  down  the  slope,  his  charger  snorting 
with  exhilaration  in  the  keen  morning  air. 

Before  dawn  a  courier  has  galloped  into  camp,  bearing  a  despatch 
from  the  commanding  officer  of  the  Riflers.  It  says  but  few  words, 
but  they  are  full  of  meaning  :  "  We  have  found  a  big  party  of  hostiles. 
They  are  in  strong  position,  and  have  us  at  disadvantage.  Rayner 
with  his  four  companies  is  hurrying  to  us.  Leave  all  wagons  with 
the  boat  under  guard,  and  come  with  every  horse  and  man  you  can 
bring.'^ 

Before  seven  o'clock  the  wagons  are  parked  close  along  the  bank 
beside  the  Far  West,  and  Hull,  with  all  the  men  he  can  muster, — 
some  fifty, — is  trotting  ahead  on  the  trail  of  Rayner's  battalion.  With 
him  rides  Mr.  Hayne,  eager  and  enthusiastic.  Before  ten  o'clock,  far 
up  along  the  slopes  they  see  the  blue  line  of  skirmishers,  and  the  knots 
of  reserves  farther  down,  all  at  a  stand.  In  ten  minutes  they  ride  with 
foaming  reins  in  behind  a  low  ridge  on  which,  flat  on  their  faces  and 
cautiously  peering  over  the  crest,  some  hundred  infantrymen  are  dis- 
posed.    Others,  officers  and  file-closers,  are  moving  to  and  fro  in  rear. 


THE  DESERTER.  707 

They  are  of  Rayner's  battalion.  Farther  back,  down  in  a  ravine  a 
dozen  forms  are  outstretched  upon  the  turf,  and  others  are  bending  over 
them,  ministering  to  the  needs  of  those  who  are  not  past  lielp  ah-eady. 
Several  officers  crowd  around  the  leading  horsemen,  and  Hull  orders, 
"  Halt,  dismount,  and  loosen  girths."  The  grave  faces  show  that  the 
infantry  has  had  poor  luck,  and  the  situation  is  summarized  in  few 
words.  The  Indians  are  in  force  occupying  the  ravines  and  ridges 
opposite  them  and  confronting  the  six  companies  farther  over  to  the 
west.  Two  attacks  have  been  made,  but  the  Indian  fire  swept  every 
approach,  and  both  were  unsucccessful.  Several  soldiers  were  shot  dead, 
others  severely  wounded.  Lieutenant  Warren's  leg  is  shattered  below 
the  knee ;  Captain  Blount  is  killed. 

"  Where's  Rayner  ?"  asks  Hull,  with  grave  face. 

"  Just  gone  off  with  the  chief  to  look  at  things  over  on  the  other 
front.  The  colonel  is  hopping.  He  is  bound  to  have  those  Indians 
out  of  there  or  drop  a-trying.  They'll  be  back  in  a  minute.  The 
general  had  a  rousing  figlit  with  Dull  Knife's  people  down  the  river 
last  evening.  You  missed  it  again,  Hull :  all  the  — th  were  there 
but  F  and  K, — and  of  course  old  Firewater  wants  to  make  as  big  a 
hit  here." 

"  The  — th  fighting  down  the  river  last  night  ?"  asks  Hull,  in 
amaze. 

"  Yes, — swept  clean  round  them  and  ran  'era  into  the  stream,  they 
say.  I  wish  we  had  them  where  we  could  see  'em  at  all.  You  don't 
get  the  glimpse  of  a  head,  even  ;  but  all  those  rocks  are  lined  with  the 
beggars.     Damn  them !"  says  the  adjutant,  feelingly. 

"  We'll  get  our  chance  here,  then,"  replies  Hull,  reflectively.  "  I'll 
creep  up  and  take  a  look  at  it.     Take  my  horse,  orderly," 

He  is  back  in  two  minutes,  graver  than  before,  but  his  bearing  is 
spirited  and  firm.     Hayne  watches  him  with  kindling  eye. 

"You'll  take  me  in  with  you  when  you  charge?"  he  asks. 

"  It  is  no  place  to  charge  there.  The  ground  is  all  cut  up  with 
ravines  and  gullies,  and  they've  got  a  cross-fire  that  sweeps  it  clean. 
We'll  probably  go  in  on  the  other  flank ;  it's  more  open  there.  Here 
comes  the  chief  now." 

Two  officers  come  riding  hastily  around  a  projecting  point  of  the 
slope  and  spur  at  rapid  gait  towards  the  spot  where  the  cavalry  have 
dismounted  and  are  breathing  their  horses.  There  is  hardly  time  for 
salutations.  A  gray-headed,  keen-eyed,  florid-faced  old  soldier  is  the 
colonel,  and  he  is  snapping  with  electricity,  apparently. 

"  This  way,  Hull.  Come  right  here,  and  I'll  show  you  what  you 
are  to  do."  And,  followed  by  Rayner,  Hull,  and  Hayne,  the  chief 
rides  sharply  over  to  the  extreme  left  of  the  position  and  points  to  the 
frowning  ridge  across  the  intervening  swale  : 

"  Tliere,  Hull :  there  are  twenty  or  thirty  of  the  rascals  in  there 
who  get  a  flank  fire  on  us  when  we  attack  on  our  side.  What  I  want 
you  to  do  is  to  mount  your  men,  let  them  draw  pistol  and  be  all  ready. 
Rayner,  here,  will  line  the  ridge  to  keep  them  down  in  front.  I'll  go 
back  to  the  right  and  order  the  attack  at  once.  The  moment  we  begin 
and  you  hear  our  shots,  you  give  a  yell,  and  charge  full  tilt  across  there, 


708  THE  DESERTER. 

SO  as  to  drive  out  those  fellows  in  that  ravine.  We  can  do  the  rest. 
Do  you  understand  ?" 

"  I  understand,  colonel ;    but is  it  your  order  that  I  attempt 

to  char2;e  mounted  across  that  ground  ?" 

"  Why,  certainly  !  It  isn't  the  best  in  the  world,  but  you  can  make 
it.  They  can't  do  very  much  damage  to  your  men  before  you  reach 
them.     It's  got  to  be  done ;  it's  the  only  way." 

"  Very  good,  sir  :  that  ends  it !"  is  the  calm,  soldierly  reply ;  and 
the  colonel  goes  bounding  aM^ay. 

A  moment  later  the  troop  is  in  saddle,  eager,  wnry,  bronzed  fellows 
every  one,  and  the  revolvers  are  in  hand  and  being  carefully  exam- 
ined. Then  Captain  Hull  signals  to  Hayne,  while  Rayner  and  three 
or  four  soldiers  sit  in  silence,  watching  the  man  who  is  to  lead  the 
charge.  He  dismounts  at  a  little  knoll  a  few  feet  away,  tosses  his  reins 
to  the  trumpeter,  and  steps  to  his  saddle-bags.     Hayne,  too,  dismounts. 

Taking  his  watch  and  chain  from  the  pocket  of  his  hunting-shirt, 
he  opens  the  saddle-bag  on  the  near  side  and  takes  therefrom  two 
packets, — one  heavily  sealed, — which  he  hands  to  Hayne. 

"  In  case  I — don't  come  back,  you  know  what  to  do  with  these, — as 
I  told  you  last  night." 

Hayne  only  looks  imploringly  at  him  :  "  You  are  not  going  to  leave 
me  here,  captain  ?" 

"  Yes,  Hayne.  You  can't  go  with  us.  Hark  !  There  they  go  at 
the  right.     Are  the  packages  all  right  ?" 

Hayne,  with  stunned  faculties,  thinking  only  of  the  charge  he  longs 
to  make, — not  of  the  one  he  has  to  keep, — replies  he  knows  not  what. 
There  is  a  ringing  bugle-call  far  off  among  the  rocks  to  the  westward ; 
a  rousing  cheer;  a  rattling  volley.  Rayner  springs  off  to  his  men  on 
the  hill-side.  Hull  spurs  in  front  of  his  eager  troop,  holding  high  his 
pistol-hand : 

"  Now,  men,  follow  till  I  drop ;  and  then  keep  ahead  !  Come  on !" 

There  is  a  furious  sputter  of  hoofs,  a  rush  of  excited  steeds  up  the 
gentle  slope,  a  glad  outburst  of  cheers  as  they  sweep  across  the  ridge  and 
out  of  sight,  then  the  clamor  and  yell  of  frantic  battle ;  and  when  at 
last  it  dies  away,  the  Riflers  are  panting  over  the  hard-Avon  position  and 
shaking  hands  with  some  few  silent  cavalrymen.  They  have  carried 
the  ridge,  captured  the  migrating  village,  squaws,  ponies,  travois,  and 
pappooses ;  their  "  long  Toms"  have  sent  many  a  stalwart  warrior  to 
the  mythical  hunting-grounds,  and  the  peppery  colonel's  triumph  is 
complete.  • 

But  Lawrence  Hayne,  with  all  the  light  gone  from  his  brave  young 
face,  stands  mutely  looking  down  upon  the  stiffening  frame  of  his  father's 
old  friend,  and  his,  who  lies  shot  through  the  heart. 


In  the  Pullman  car  of  the  westward -bound  express,  half-way  across 
the  continent,  two  passengers  were  gazing  listlessly  out  over  the  wintry 


THE  DESERTER.  709 

landscape.  It  was  a  bitter  morning  in  February.  North  and  south 
the  treeless  prairie  rolled  away  in  successive  ridge  and  depression.  The 
snow  lay  deep  in  the  dry  ravines  and  streaked  the  sea-like  surface  with 
jagged  lines  of  foam  between  which  lay  broad  spaces  clean-swept  by 
the  gale.  Heavy  masses  of  cloud,  dark  and  forbidding,  draped  the 
sky  from  zenith  to  horizon,  and  the  air  was  thick  with  spiteful  gusts 
and  spits  of  snow,  crackling  against  the  window-panes,  making  herce 
dashes  every  time  a  car  door  was  hurriedly  opened,  and  driving  about 
the  platforms  like  a  myriad  swarm  of  fleecy  and  aggressive  gnats  raging 
for  battle.  Every  now  and  then,  responsive  to  some  wilder  blast,  a 
blinding  white  cloud  came  whirling  from  the  depths  of  the  nearest 
gully  and  breaking  like  spray  over  the  snow  fence  along  the  line.  Not 
a  sign  of  life  was  visible.  The  tiny  mounds  in  the  villages  of  the 
prairie-dogs  seemed  blocked  and  frozen  ;  even  the  trusty  sentinel  had 
"  deserted  post"  and  huddled  with  his  fellows  for  warmth  and  shelter  in 
the  bowels  of  the  earth.  Fluttering  owl  and  skulking  coyote,  too,  had 
vanished  from  the  face  of  nature.  Timid  antelope — fleetest  coursers 
of  the  prairie — and  stolid  horned  cattle  had  gone,  none  knew  whither, 
nor  cared  to  know  until  the  "  blizzard"  had  subsided.  Two  heavy  en- 
gines fought  their  way,  panting,  into  the  very  teeth  of  the  gale  and 
slowly  wound  the  long  train  after  them  up-grade  among  the  foot-hills 
of  the  great  plateau  of  the  Rockies.  Once  in  a  while,  when  stopping 
for  a  moment  at  some  group  of  brown-painted  sheds  and  earth-battened 
shanties,  the  wind  moaned  and  howled  among  the  iron  braces  and 
brake-chains  beneath  the  car  and  made  such  mournful  noise  that  it  was 
a  relief  to  start  once  more  and  lose  sound  of  its  wailino;  in  the  general 
rumble.  As  for  the  scenery,  only  as  a  picture  of  shiver-provoking 
monotony  and  desolation  would  one  care  to  take  a  second  look. 

And  yet,  some  miles  ahead,  striving  hard  to  reach  the  railway  in 
time  to  intercept  this  very  train,  a  small  battalion  of  cavalry  was 
strufffflino;  throuQ-h  the  blasts,  officers  and  men  afoot  and  dragsing;  their 
own  benumbed  limbs  and  half-benumbed  chargers  through  the  drifts 
that  lay  deep  at  the  bottom  of  every  "  coulee."  Some  few  soldiers- re- 
mained in  saddle  :  they  were  too  frozen  to  walk  at  all.  Some  few  fell 
behind,  and  would  have  thrown  themselves  flat  upon  the  j^rairie  in  the 
lethargy  that  is  but  premonition  of  death  by  freezing.  Like  men  half 
deadened  by  morphine,  their  rescue  depended  on  heroic  measures,  hu- 
mane in  their  seeming  brutality.  Officers  who  at  other  times  were  all 
gentleness  now  fell  upon  the  hapless  stragglers  with  kicks  and  blows. 
As  the  train  drew  up  at  the  platform  of  a  station  in  mid-prairie,  a 
horseman  enveloped  in  fur  and  frost  and  steam  from  his  panting  steed 
reined  up  beside  the  leading  engine  and  shouted  to  the  occupants  of  the 
cab, — 

"  For  God's  sake  hold  on  a  few  minutes.  We've  got  a  dozen  frozen 
men  with  us  we  must  send  on  to  Fort  Warrener."  And  the  train  was 
held. 

Meantime,  those  far  to  the  rear  in  the  sleeper  knew  nothing  of 
what  was  going  on  ahead.  The  car  was  warm  and  comfortable,  and 
most  of  its  occupants  were  apparently  appreciative  of  its  shelter  and 
coseyness  in  contrast  with  the  cheerless  scene  without.     A  motherly- 


710  THE  DESERTER. 

looking  woman  had  produced  her  knitting,  and  was  blithely  clicking 
away  at  her  needles,  while  her  enterprising  son,  a  youth  of  four  sum- 
mers and  undaunted  confidence  in  human  nature,  tacked  up  and  down 
the  aisle  and  made  impetuous  incursions  on  the  various  sections  by 
turns,  receiving  such  modified  welcome  as  could  be  accorded  features 
streaked  with  mingled  candy  and  cinders,  and  fingers  whose  propensity 
to  cling  to  whatsoever  they  touched  was  due  no  more  to  instincts  of  a 
predatory  nature  than  to  the  adhesive  properties  of  the  glucose  which 
formed  so  large  a  constituent  of  the  confections  he  had  been  industri- 
ously consuming  since  early  morning.  Four  men  playing  whist  in  the 
rearmost  section,  two  or  three  commercial  travellers,  whose  intimacy 
with  the  porter  and  airs  of  easy  proprietorship  told  of  an  apparent 
controlling  interest  in  the  road,  a  young  man  of  reserved  manners, 
reading  in  a  section  all  by  himself,  a  baby  sleeping  quietly  upon  the  seat 
opposite  the  two  passengers  first  mentioned,  and  a  Maltese  kitten  curled 
up  in  the  lap  of  one  of  them,  completed  the  list  of  occupants. 

The  proximity  of  the  baby  and  the  kitten  furnishes  strong  pre- 
sumptive evidence  of  the  sex  and  general  condition  of  the  two  passengers 
referred  to,  and  renders  detail  superfl.uous.  A  baby  rarely  travels 
without  a  woman,  or  a  kitten  with  a  woman  already  encumbered  with 
a  baby.  The  baby  belonged  to  the  elder  passenger,  the  kitten  to  the 
younger.  The  one  was  a  buxom  matron,  the  other  a  slender  maid. 
In  their  ages  there  must  have  been  a  difference  of  fifteen  years ;  in 
feature  there  was  still  wider  disparity.  The  elder  was  a  fine-looking 
woman,  and  one  who  prided  herself  upon  the  Junoesque  proportions 
which  she  occasionally  exhibited  in  a  stroll  for  exercise  up  and  down 
the  aisle.  Yet  no  one  would  call  her  a  beauty.  Her  eyes  were  of  a 
somewhat  fishy  and  uncertain  blue ;  the  lids  were  tinged  with  an  un- 
ornamental  pink  that  told  of  irritation  of  the  adjacent  interior  surface 
and  of  possible  irritability  of  temper.  Her  complexion  was  of  that 
mottled  type  which  is  so  sore  a  trial  to  its  possessor  and  yet  so  inesti- 
mable a  comfort  to  social  rivals ;  but  her  features  were  handsome,  her 
teeth  fine,  her  dress,  bearing,  and  demeanor  those  of  a  woman  of  birth 
and  breeding,  and  yet  one  who  might  have  resented  the  intimation  that 
she  was  not  strikingly  handsome.  She  looked  like  a  woman  with  a 
will  of  her  own  ;  her  head  was  high,  her  step  was  firm  ;  it  was  of  just 
such  a  walk  as  hers  that  Virgil  wrote  his  "  vera  incessu  patuit  dea" 
and  she  made  the  young  man  in  the  section  by  himself  think  of  that 
very  passage  as  he  glanced  at  her  from  under  his  heavy,  bushy  eye- 
brows. She  looked,  moreover,  like  a  woman  with  a  capacity  for  in- 
fluencing people  contrary  to  their  will  and  judgment,  and  with  a  decided 
fondness  for  the  exercise  of  that  unpopular  function.  There  was  the 
air  of  grande  dame  about  her,  despite  the  simplicity  of  her  dress,  which, 
though  of  rich  material,  was  severely  plain.  She  wore  no  jewelry.  Her 
hands  were  snugly  gloved,  and  undisfigured  by  the  distortions  of  any 
ring  except  the  marriage  circlet.  Her  manner  attested  her  a  person  of 
consequence  in  her  social  circle  and  one  who  realized  the  fact.  She  had 
repelled,  though  without  rudeness  or  discourtesy,  the  garrulous  efforts 
of  the  motherly  knitter  to  be  sociable.  She  had  promptly  inspired  the 
small,  candy-crusted  explorer  with  such  awe  that  he  had  refrained  from 


THE  DESERTER.  711 

further  visits  after  his  first  confiding  attempt  to  poke  a  sticky  finger 
through  the  baby's  velvety  cheek.  She  had  spared  little  scorn  in  her 
rejection  of  the  bourgeois  advances  of  the  commercial  traveller  with  the 
languishing  eyes  of  Israel :  he  confided  to  his  comrades,  in  relating  the 
incident,  that  she  was  smart  enough  to  see  that  it  wasn't  her  he  was 
hankering  to  know,  but  the  pretty  sister  by  her  side ;  and  when  chal- 
lenged to  prove  that  they  we^'e  sisters, — a  statement  which  aroused  the 
scepticism  of  his  shrewd  associates, — he  had  replied,  substantially, — 

"  How  do  I  know  ?  'Cause  I  saw  their  pass  before  you  was  up  this 
morning,  cully.  It's  for  Mrs.  Captain  Rayner  and  sister,  and  they're 
going  out  here  to  Fort  Warrener.  That's  how  I  know."  And  the 
porter  of  the  car  had  confirmed  the  statement  in  the  sanctity  of  the 
smoking-room. 

And  yet — such  is  the  uncertainty  of  feminine  temperament — Mrs. 
Rayner  was  no  more  incensed  at  the  commercial  "  gent"  because  he  had 
obtruded  his  attentions  than  she  was  at  the  young  man  reading  in  his 
own  section  because  he  had  refrained.  Nearly  twenty-four  hours  had 
elapsed  since  they  crossed  the  Missouri,  and  in  all  that  time  not  once 
had  she  detected  in  him  a  glance  that  betrayed  the  faintest  interest  in 
her,  or — still  more  remarkable — in  the  unquestionably  lovely  girl  at  her 
side.  Intrusiveness  she  might  resent,  but  indifference  she  would  and 
did.  Who  w^as  this  youth,  she  wondered,  w^ho  not  once  had  so  much  as 
stolen  a  look  at  the  sweet,  bonny  face  of  her  maiden  sister?  Surely 
'twas  a  face  any  man  would  love  to  gaze  upon, — so  fair,  so  exquisite 
in  contour  and  feature,  so  pearly  in  complexion,  so*  lovely  in  the  deep, 
dark  brown  of  its  shaded  eyes. 

The  bold  glances  of  the  four  card-players  she  had  defiantly  returned, 
and  vanquished.  Those  men,  like  the  travelling  gents,  were  creatures 
of  coarser  mould  ;  but  her  experienced  eye  told  her  the  solitary  occupant 
of  the  opposite  section  was  a  gentleman.  The  clear  cut  of  his  pale 
features,  the  white,  slender  hand  and  shapely  foot,  the  style  and  finish 
of  his  quiet  travelling-dress,  the  soft  modulation  and  refined  tone  of  his 
voice  on  the  one  occasion  when  she  heard  him  reply  to  some  importunity 
of  the  train-boy  with  his  endless  round  of  equally  questionable  figs  and 
fiction,  the  book  he  was  reading, — a  volume  of  Emerson, — all  combined 
to  speak  of  a  culture  and  position  equal  to  her  own.  She  had  been 
over  the  trans-continental  railways  oflen  enough  to  know  that  it  was 
permissible  for  gentlemen  to  render  their  fellow-passengers  some  slight 
attention  which  would  lead  to  mutual  introductions  if  desirable ;  and 
this  man  refused  to  see  that  the  opportunity  was  open  to  him. 

True,  when  first  she  took  her  survey  of  those  who  were  to  be  her 
fellow-travellers  at  the  "  transfer"  on  the  Missouri,  she  decided  that 
here  was  one  against  whom  it  would  be  necessary  to  guard  the  ap- 
proaches. She  had  good  and  sufficient  reasons  for  wanting  no  young 
man  as  attractive  in  appearance  as  this  one  making  himself  interest-* 
ing  to  pretty  Nellie  on  their  journey.  She  had  already  decided  what 
Nellie's  future  was  to  be.  Never,  indeed,  would  she  have  taken  her  to 
the  gay  frontier  station  whither  she  was  now  en  route,  had  not  that 
future  been  already  settled  to  her  satisfaction.  Nellie  Travers,  barely 
out  of  school,  was  betrothed,  and  willingly  so,  to  the  man  she,  her 


712  THE  DESERTER. 

devoted  elder  sister,  liad  especially  chosen.  Rare  and  most  unlikely 
of  conditions !  she  had  apparently  fallen  in  love  with  the  man  picked 
out  for  her  by  somebody  else.  She  was  engaged  to  Mrs.  Rayner's  fas- 
cinating friend  Mr.  Steven  Van  Antwerp,  a  scion  of  an  old  and  es- 
teemed and  wealthy  family ;  and  Mr.  Van  Antwerp,  wlio  had  been 
educated  abroad,  and  had  a  Heidelberg  scar  on  his  left  cheek,  and  dark, 
luscrous  eyes,  and  wavy  hair, — almost  raven, — was  a  devoted  lover, 
though  fully  fifteen  years  Miss  Nellie's  senior. 

Full  of  bliss  and  comfort  was  Mrs.  Rayner's  soul  as  she  journeyed 
westward  to  rejoin  her  husband  at  the  distant  frontier  post  she  had 
not  seen  since  the  early  spring.  Army  woman  as  she  was,  born  and 
bred  under  the  shadow  of  the  flag,  a  soldier's  daughter,  a  soldier's  wife, 
she  had  other  ambitions  for  her  beautiful  Nell.  Worldly  to  the  core, 
she  herself  would  never  have  married  in  the  army  but  for  the  unusual 
circumstance  of  a  wealthy  subaltern  among  the  officers  of  her  father's 
regiment.  Tradition  had  it  that  Mr.  Rayner  was  not  among  the  number 
of  those  who  sighed  for  Kate  Travers's  guarded  smiles.  Her  earlier 
victims  were  kept  a-dangling  until  Rayner,  too,  succumbed,  and  then 
were  sent  adrift.  She  meant  that  no  penniless  subaltern  should  carry  off 
her  "  baby  sister," — they  had  long  been  motherless, — and  a  season  at  the 
sea-shore  had  done  her  work  well.  Steven  Van  Antwerp,  with  genuine 
distress  and  loneliness,  went  back  to  his  duties  in  Wall  Street  after  see- 
ing them  safely  on  their  way  to  the  West.  "  Guard  her  well  for  me," 
he  whispered  to  Mrs.  Rayner.  "  I  dread  those  fellows  in  buttons." 
And  he  shivered  unaccountably  as  he  spoke. 

Nellie  was  pledged,  therefore,  and  this  youth  in  the  Pullman  was 
not  one  of  "  those  fellows  in  buttons,"  so  far  as  Mrs.  Rayner  knew,  but 
she  was  ready  to  warn  him  off,  and  meant  to  do  so,  until,  to  her  surprise, 
she  saw  that  he  gave  no  symptom  of  a  desire  to  approach.  By  noon 
of  the  second  day  she  was  as  determined  to  extract  from  him  some  sign 
of  interest  as  she  had  been  determined  to  resent  it.  I  can  in  no  wise 
explain  or  account  for  this.     The  fact  is  stated  without  remark. 

"  What  on  earth  can  we  be  stopping  so  long  here  for  ?"  was  Mrs. 
Rayner's  somewhat  petulant  inquiry,  addressed  to  no  one  in  particular. 
There  was  no  reply.  Miss  Travers  was  busily  twitching  the  ears  of  the 
kitten  at  the  moment  and  sparring  with  upraised  finger  at  the  threaten- 
ing paw. 

"  Do  look  out  of  the  window,  Nell,  and  see." 

"  There  is  nothing  to  see,  Kate, — nothing  but  whirling  drifls  and  a 
big  water-tank  all  covered  with  ice.  Br-r-r-r !  how  cold  it  looks  !" 
she  answered,  after  vainly  flattening  her  face  against  the  inner  pane. 

"There  must  be  something  the  matter,  though,"  persisted  Mrs. 
Rayner.  "  We  have  been  here  full  five  minutes,  and  we  are  behind 
time  now.  At  this  rate  we'll  never  get  to  Warrener  to-night.  I  do 
"wish  the  porter  would  stay  here  where  he  belongs." 

The  young  man  quietly  laid  down  his  book  and  arose.  "  I  will 
inquire,  madame,"  he  said,  with  grave  courtesy.  "  You  shall  know  in  a 
moment." 

"  How  very  kind  of  you  !"  said  the  lady.  "  Indeed  I  must  not 
trouble  you.     I'm  sure  the  porter  will  be  here  after  a  while." 


THE  DESERTER.  713 

And  even  as  she  spoke,  and  as  he  was  pulling  on  an  overcoat,  the 
train  rumbled  off  again.  Then  came  an  exclamation,  this  time  from 
the  younger : 

"  Why,  Kate  !  Look  !  see  all  these  men, — and  horses  !  Why,  they 
are  soldiers, — cavalry  !  Oh,  how  I  love  to  see  them  again  !  But,  oh, 
how  cold  they  look  ! — frozen  !" 

"  Who  can  they  be  ?"  said  Mrs.  Rayner,  all  vehement  interest  now, 
and  gazing  eagerly  from  the  window  at  the  lowered  heads  of  the  horses 
and  the  muffled  figures  in  blue  and  fur.  "  What  can  they  be  doing  in 
the  field  in  such  awful  weather?  I  cannot  recognize  one  of  them, 
or  tell  officers  from  men.  Surely  that  must  be  Captain  Wayne, — and 
Major  Stannard.     Oh,  what  can  it  mean?" 

The  young  man  had  suddenly  leaped  to  the  window  behind  them, 
and  was  gazing  out  with  an  eagerness  and  interest  little  less  apparent 
than  her  own,  but  in  a  moment  the  train  had  whisked  them  out  of  sight 
of  the  storm-beaten  troopers.  Then  he  hurried  to  the  rear  window  of 
the  car,  and  Mrs.  Rayner  as  hastily  followed. 

"  Do  you  know  them  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Yes.  That  was  Major  Stannard.  It  is  his  battalion  of  the  — th 
Cavalry,  and  they  have  been  out  scouting  after  renegade  Cheyennes. 
Pardon  me,  madame,  I  must  go  forward  and  see  who  have  boarded  the 
train." 

He  stopped  at  his  section,  and  again  she  followed  him,  her  eyes 
full  of  anxiety.  He  was  busy  tugging  at  a  flask  in  his  travelling- 
bag. 

"  You  know  them  !  Do  you  know — have  you  heard  of  any  infantry 
being  out?  Pardon  me  for  detaining  you,  but  I  am  very  anxious. 
My  husband  is  Captain  Rayner,  of  Fort  Warrener." 

"  No  infantry  have  been  sent,  madame,  I have  reason  to  know ; 

at  least,  none  from  Warrener." 

And  with  that  he  hurriedly  bowed  and  left  her.  The  next  moment, 
flask  in  hand,  he  was  crossing  the  storm-swept  platform  and  making 
his  way  to  the  head  of  the  train. 

"  I  believe  he  is  an  officer,"  said  Mrs.  Rayner  to  her  sister. 
"  Who  else  would  be  apt  to  know  about  the  movement  of  the  troops  ? 
Did  you  notice  how  gentle  his  manner  was  ? — and  he  never  smiled  : 
he  has  such  a  sad  face.  Yet  he  can't  be  an  officer,  or  he  would  have 
made  himself  known  to  us  long  ago." 

"  Is  there  no  name  on  the  satchel  ?"  asked  Miss  Travers,  with  par- 
donable curiosity.  "  He  has  an  interesting  face, — not  handsome."  And 
a  dreamy  look  came  into  her  deep  eyes.  She  was  thinking,  no  doubt, 
of  a  dark,  oval,  distingu6  face  with  raven  hair  and  moustache.  The 
youth  in  the  travelling-suit  was  not  tall,  like  Steven, — not  singularly, 
romantically  handsome,  like  Steven.  Indeed,  he  was  of  less  interest  to 
her  than  to  her  married  sister. 

Mrs.  Rayner  could  see  no  name  on  the  satchel, — only  two  initials ; 
and  they  revealed  very  little. 

"  I  have  half  a  mind  to  peep  at  the  fly-leaf  of  that  book,"  she  said. 
"He  walked  just  like  a  soldier;  but  there  isn't  anything  there  to  indi- 
cate what  he  is,"  she  continued,  with  a  doubtful  glance  at  the  items 
Vol.  XXXIX.— 47 


714  THE  DESERTER. 

scattered  about  the  now  vacant  section.     "  Why  Isn't  that  porter  here  ? 
He  ought  to  know  who  people  are." 

As  though  to  answer  her  request,  in  came  the  porter,  dishevelled  and 
breathless.  He  made  straight  for  the  satchel  they  had  been  scrutinizing, 
and  opened  it  without  ceremony.  Both  ladies  regarded  this  proceeding 
with  natural  astonishment,  and  Mrs.  Rayner  was  about  to  interfere  and 
question  his  right  to  search  the  luggage  of  passengers,  when  the  man 
turned  hurriedly  towards  them,  exhibiting  a  little  bundle  of  handker- 
chiefs, his  broad  Ethiopian  face  clouded  with  anxiety  and  concern  : 

"  The  gentleman  told  me  to  take  all  his  handkerchiefs.  We'se  got 
a  dozen  frozen  soldiers  in  the  baggage-car, — some  of  'em  mighty  bad, — 
and  they'se  tryin'  to  make  'em  comfortable  until  they  get  to  the  fort." 

"  Soldiers  frozen  !  Why  do  you  take  them  in  the  baggage-car  ? — 
such  a  barn  of  a  place  !  Why  weren't  they  brought  here,  where  we 
could  make  them  warm  and  care  for  them  ?"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Rayner, 
in  impulsive  indignation. 

"  Laws,  ma'am  !  never  do  in  the  world  to  bring  frozen  people 
into  a  hot  car  !  Sure  to  make  their  ears  an'  noses  drop  off,  that  would  ! 
Got  to  keep  'em  in  the  cold  and  pile  snow  around  'em.  That  gentle- 
man sittin'  here, — he  knows,"  he  continued  :  "  he's  an  officer,  and  him 
and  the  doctor's  workin'  with  'em  now." 

And  Mrs.  Rayner,  vanquished  by  a  statement  of  facts  well  known 
to  her  yet  forgotten  in  the  first  impetuosity  of  her  criticism,  relapsed 
into  the  silence  of  temporary  defeat. 

"  He  is  an  officer,  then,"  said  Miss  Travers,  presently.  "  I  wonder 
what  he  belongs  to." 

"  Not  to  our  regiment,  I'm  sure.  Probably  to  the  cavalry.  He 
knew  Major  Stannard  and  other  officers  whom  we  passed  there." 

"  Did  he  speak  to  them  ?" 

"  No  :  there  was  no  time.  We  were  beyond  hearing-distance  when 
he  ran  to  the  back  door  of  the  car ;  and  there  was  no  time  before  that. 
But  it's  very  odd  !" 

"What's  very  odd?" 

"  Why,  his  conduct.  It  is  so  strange  that  he  has  not  made  himself 
known  to  us,  if  he's  an  officer." 

"  Probably  he  doesn't  know  you — or  we — are  connected  with  the 
army,  Kate." 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  does.  The  porter  knows  perfectly  well,  and  I  told 
him  just  before  he  left." 

"  Yes,  but  he  didn't  know  before  that  time,  did  he?" 

"  He  ought  to  have  known,"  said  Mrs.  Rayner,  uncompromisingly. 
"  At  least,  he  should  if  he  had  taken  the  fiiintest  interest.  I  mentioned 
Captain  Rayner  so  that  he  could  not  help  hearing." 

This  statement  being  one  that  Miss  Travers  could  in  no  wise  con- 
tradict,— as  it  was  one,  indeed,  that  Mrs.  Rayner  could  have  dispensed 
with  as  unnecessary, — the  younger  lady  again  betook  herself  to  silence 
and  pulling  the  kitten's  ears. 

''  Even  if  he  didn't  know  before,"  continued  her  sister,  after  a  pause 
in  which  she  had  apjiarently  been  brooding  over  the  indifference  of  the 
young  man  in  question,  "  he  ought  to  have  made  himself  known  after 


THE  DESERTER.  7X5 

I  told  him  who  I  was."  Another  pause.  "  That's  what  I  did  it  for," 
she  wound  up,  conckisively. 

"And  that's  what  I  thought,"  said  Miss  Travers,  with  a  quiet 
smile.  "  However,  he  had  no  time  then  :  he  was  hurrying  off  to  see 
whether  any  of  the  soldiers  had  come  on  board.  He  took  his  flask 
with  him,  and  apparently  was  in  haste  to  offer  some  one  a  drink.  I'm 
sure  that  is  what  papa  used  to  do,"  she  added,  as  she  saw  a  frown 
gathering  on  her  sister's  face. 

"  What  papa  did  just  after  the  war — a  time  when  everybody  drank 
— is  not  at  all  the  proper  thing  now.  Captain  Rayner  never  touches 
it ;  and  I  don't  allow  it  in  the  house." 

"  Still,  I  should  think  it  a  very  useful  article  when  a  lot  of  frozen 
and  exhausted  men  are  on  one's  hands,"  said  Miss  Travers.  "  That 
was  but  a  small  flask  he  had,  and  I'm  sure  they  will  need  more." 

There  came  a  rush  of  cold  air  from  the  front,  and  the  swinging 
door  blew  open  ahead  of  the  porter,  who  was  heard  banging  shut  the 
outer  portal.     Then  he  hurried  in. 

"Can  some  of  you  gentlemen  oblige  me  with  some  whiskey  or 
brandy  ?"  he  asked.  "  We've  got  some  frozen  soldiers  aboard.  Two 
of  'em  are  pretty  nearly  gone." 

Two  of  the  card-players  dropped  their  hands  and  started  for  their 
section  at  once.  Before  thev  could  rumraao-e  in  their  bag-s  for  the  re- 
quired  article,  Mrs.  Rayner's  voice  was  heard :  "  Take  this,  porter." 
And  she  held  forth  a  little  silver  flask.  "  I  have  more  in  my  trunk 
if  it  is  needed,"  she  added,  while  a  blush  mounted  to  her  forehead 
as  she  saw  the  quizzical  smile  on*  her  sister's  face.  "  You  know  I 
always  carry  it  in  travelling,  Nellie, — in  case  of  accident  or  illness ; 
and  I'm  most  thankful  I  have  it  now." 

"  Ever  so  much  obliged,  ma'am,"  said  the  porter,  "  but  this  would 
be  only  a  thimbleful,  and  I  can  get  a  quart  bottle  of  tliis  gentleman." 

"Where  are  they?"  said  the  person  thus  referred  to,  as  he  came 
down  the  aisle  with  a  big  brown  bottle  in  his  hand.  "  Come,  Jim, 
let's  go  and  see  what  we  can  do.  One  of  you  gentlemen  take  my  place 
in  the  game,"  he  continued,  indicating  the  commercial  gents,  two  of 
whom,  nothing  loath,  dropped  into  the  vacated  seats,  while  the  others 
pushed  on  to  the  front  of  the  train.     The  porter  hesitated  "one  moment. 

"  Yes,  take  my  flask  :  I  shouldn't  feel  satisfied  without  doing  some- 
thing. And  please  say  to  the  officer  that  I'm  INIrs.  Rayner, — Mrs. 
Captain  Rayner,  of  the  infantry, — and  ask  if  there  isn't  something  I 
can  do  to  help." 

"  Yes,  ma'am  ;  I  will,  ma'am.  Oh,  he  knows  who  you  are :  I 
done  told  him  last  night.  He's  goin'  to  Fort  Warrener,  too."  And, 
touching  his  cap,  away  went  the  porter. 

"  There  !  He  did  know  all  along,"  said  Mi's.  Rayner,  trium- 
phantly.    "  It  is  most  extraordinary  !" 

"  Well,  is  it  the  proper  thing  for  people  in  the  army  to  introduce 
themselves  when  travelling  ?  How  are  they  to  know  it  wdll  be  agree- 
able?" 

"  Agreeable !  Why,  Nellie,  it's  always  done, — especially  when 
ladies  are  travelling  without  escort,  as  we  are.     Tlie  commonest  civility 


716  THE  DESERTER. 

should  prompt  it ;  and  officers  always  send  their  cards  by  the  porter  the 
moment  they  find  army  ladies  are  on  the  train.  I  don't  understand 
this  one  at  all, — especially "     But  here  she  broke  off  abruptly. 

"  Especially  what  ?"  asked  Miss  Nell,  with  an  inspiration  of  maid- 
enly curiosity. 

"  Especially  nothing.  Never  mind  now."  And  here  the  baby  began 
to  fidget,  and  stir  about,  and  stretch  forth  his  chubby  hands,  and  thrust 
his  knuckles  in  his  eyes,  and  pucker  up  his  face  in  alarming  contortions 
jjreparatory  to  a  wail,  and,  after  one  or  two  soothing  and  tentative 
sounds  of  "  sh — sli — sh — sh"  from  the  maternal  lips,  the  matron 
abandoned  the  attempt  to  induce  a  second  nap,  and  picked  him  up  in 
her  arms,  where  he  presently  began  to  take  gracious  notice  of  his  pretty 
aunt  and  the  kitten. 

Two  hours  later,  just  as  the  porter  had  notified  them  that  Warrener 
Station  would  be  in  sight  in  five  minutes,  the  young  man  of  the  oppo- 
site section  returned  to  the  car.  He  looked  tired,  very  anxious,  and  his 
face  was  paler  and  the  sad  expression  more  pronounced  than  before. 
The  train-conductor  stopped  him  to  speak  of  some  telegrams  that  had 
been  sent,  and  both  ladies  noted  the  respect  which  the  railway  official 
threw  into  the  tone  in  which  he  spoke.  The  card-players  stopped  their 
game  and  went  up  to  ask  after  the  frozen  men.  It  was  not  until  the 
whistle  was  sounding  for  the  station  that  he  stood  before  them  and  with 
a  grave  and  courteous  bow  held  forth  Mrs.  Rayner's  silver  flask. 

"  It  was  a  blessing  to  one  poor  fellow  at  least,  and  I  thank  you  for 
him,  madame,"  he  said. 

"  I  have  been  so  anxious.     I  wanted  to  do  something.     Did  you 

not  get  my  message,  Mr. ?"  she  asked,  with  intentional  pause  that 

he  might  supply  the  missing  name. 

"  Indeed  there  was  nothing  we  could  ask  of  you,"  he  answered, 
totally  ignoring  the  evident  invitation.  "  I  am  greatly  obliged  to  you 
for  your  kindness,  but  we  had  abundant  help,  and  you  really  could  not 
have  reached  the  car  in  the  face  of  this  gale.  Good-morning,  madame." 
And  with  that  he  raised  his  fur  travelling-cap  and  quickly  turned  to  his 
section  and  busied  himself  strapping  up  his  various  belongings. 

"  The  man  must  be  a  woman-hater,"  she  whispered  to  Miss  Travers. 
"He's  going- to  get  out  here,  too.     Who  can  he  be?" 

There  was  still  a  moment  before  the  train  would  stop  at  the  plat- 
form, and  she  was  not  to  be  beaten  so  easily.  Bending  partly  across 
the  aisle,  she  spoke  again  : 

"  You  have  been  so  kind  to  those  poor  fellows  that  I  feel  sure  you 
must  be  of  the  army.  I  think  I  told  you  I  am  Mrs.  Rayner,  of  Fort 
Warrener.     May  we  not  hope  to  see  you  there  ?" 

A  deep  flush  rose  to  his  forehead,  suffusing  his  cheeks,  and  passed 
as  quickly  away.  His  mouth  twitched  and  trembled.  Gazing  at  him 
in  surprise  and  trouble,  Nellie  Travers  saw  that  his  face  was  full  of 
pain  and  was  turning  white  again.  He  half  choked  before  he  could 
reply :  he  spoke  low,  and  yet  distinctly,  and  the  words  were  full  of 
sadness : 

"  It — it  is  not  probable  that  we  shall  meet  at  all." 

And  with  that  he  turned  away. 


THE  DESERTER.  fjyj 


II. 

Even  in  the  excitement  attendant  upon  their  reception  at  the  sta- 
tion neither  Mrs,  Rayner  nor  her  sister  could  entirely  recover  from  the 
surprise  and  pain  which  the  stranger's  singular  words  had  caused.  So  far 
from  feeling  in  the  least  rebuffed,  Mrs.  Kayner  well  understood  from 
his  manner  that  not  the  faintest  discourtesy  was  intended.  There  was 
not  a  symptom  of  rudeness,  not  a  vestige  of  irritation  or  haste,  in  his 
tone.  Deep  embarrassment,  inexpressible  sadness  even,  she  read  in  the 
brief  glimpse  she  had  of  his  paling  face.  It  was  all  a  mystery  to  her 
and  to  the  girl  seated  in  silence  by  her  side.  Both  followed  him  with 
their  eyes  as  he  hurried  away  to  the  rear  of  the  car,  and  then,  with 
joyous  shouts,  three  or  four  burly,  fur-enveloped  men  came  bursting 
in  the  front  door,  and  the  two  ladies,  the  baby,  and  the  kitten  were 
pounced  upon  and  surrounded  by  a  group  that  grew  larger  every  min- 
ute. Released  finally  from  the  welcoming  embrace  of  her  stalwart 
husband,  Mrs.  Rayner  found  time  to  present  the  other  and  younger 
officers  to  her  sister.  As  many  as  half  a  dozen  had  followed  the  cap- 
tain in  his  wild  rush  upon  the  car,  and,  while  he  and  his  baby  boy 
were  resuming  acquaintanceship  after  a  separation  of  many  lono- 
months,  Miss  Travers  found  herself  the  centre  of  a  circle  of  youno- 
officers  who  had  braved  the  wintry  blizzard  in  their  eagerness  to  do 
her  proper  homage.  Her  cheeks  were  aflame  with  excitement  and 
pleasure,  her  eyes  dancing,  and  despite  the  fatigue  of  her  long  journey 
she  was  looking  dangerously  pretty,  as  Captain  Rayner  glanced  for  a 
moment  from  the  baby's  wondering  eyes,  took  in  the  picture  like  an 
instantaneous  photograph,  and  then  looked  again  into  Mrs.  Rayner's 
smiling  face. 

"  You  were  wise  in  providing  against  possibilities  as  you  did,  Kate," 
he  said,  with  a  significant  nod  of  the  head.  "  There  are  as  many  as  a 
dozen  of  them, — or  at  least  there  will  be  when  the  — th  g^ts  back  from 
the  field.     Stannard  is  out  yet  with  his  battalion." 

"■  Oh,  yes :  we  saw  them  at  a  station  east  of  here.  They  looked 
frozen  to  death  ;  and  there  are  ever  so  many  of  the  soldiers  frozen. 
The  baggage-car  is  full  of  them.     Didn't  you  know  it?" 

"  Not  a  word  of  it.  We  have  been  here  for  three  mortal  hours 
waiting  at  the  station,  and  any  telegrams  must  have  been  sent  right  out 
to  the  fort.  The  colonel  is  there,  and  he  would  have  all  arrangements 
made.  Here,  Graham  !  Foster !  Mrs.  Rayner  says  there  are  a  lot 
of  frozen  cavalrymen  forward  in  the  baggage-car.  Run  ahead  and  see 
what  is  necessary,  will  you  ?  I'll  be  there  in  a  minute,  as  soon  as  we've 
got  these  ladies  off  the  train." 

Two  of  the  young  gentlemen  who  had  been  hovering  around  Miss 
Travers  took  themselves  off  without  a  moment's  delay.  The  others 
remained  to  help  their  senior  officer.  Out  into  the  whirling  eddies 
of  snow,  bundling  them  up  in  the  big,  warm  capes  of  their  regulation 
overcoats,  the  officers  half  led,  half  carried  their  precious  charges. 
The  captain  bore  his  son  and  heir;  Lieutenant  Ross  escorted  IVtrs. 
Rayner ;  two  others  devoted  themselves  exclusively  to  Miss  Travers ;  a 


718  THE  DESERTER. 

fourth  picked  up  the  Maltese  kitten.  Two  or  three  smart,  trim-looking 
infantry  soldiers  cleared  the  section  of  bags  and  bundles  of  shawls,  and 
the  entire  party  was  soon  within  the  door-way  of  the  waiting-room, 
where  a  red-hot  coal-stove  glowed  fierce  welcome.  Here  the  ladies 
were  left  for  a  moment,  while  all  the  officers  again  bustled  out  into  the 
storm  and  fought  their  way  against  the  northwest  gale  until  they 
reached  the  little  crowd  gathered  about  the  door-way  of  the  freight- 
sheds.  A  stout,  short,  burly  man  in  beaver  overcoat  and  cap  pushed 
through  the  knot  of  half-numbed  spectators  and  approached  their 
leader : 

"  We  have  onlv  two  ambulances,  captain, — that  is  all  there  was  at 
the  post  when  the  despatch  came, — and  there  are  a  dozen  of  these  men, 
besides  Dr.  Grimes,  all  more  or  less  crippled,  and  Grimes  has  both 
hands  frozen.  We  must  get  them  out  at  once.  Can  we  take  your 
wagon  ?" 

"  Certainly,  doctor.  Take  anything  we  have.  If  the  storm  holds, 
tell  the  driver  not  to  try  to  come  back  for  us.  AVe  can  make  the  ladies 
comfortable  here  at  the  hotel  for  the  night.  Some  of  tlie  officers  have 
to  get  back  for  duties  this  evening.  The  rest  will  have  to  stay.  How 
did  they  happen  to  get  caught  in  sucli  a  freeze  ?" 

"  They  couldn't  help  it.  Stannard  had  chased  the  Cheyennes  across 
the  range,  and  was  ordered  to  get  back  to  the  railway.  It  was  twenty 
below  when  they  started,  and  they  made  three  days'  cliase  in  that 
weather ;  but  no  one  seemed  to  care  so  long  as  they  were  on  the  trail. 
Then  came  the  change  of  wind,  and  a  driving  snow-storm,  in  which 
they  lost  the  trail  as  a  matter  of  course ;  and  then  this  blizzard  struck 
them  on  the  back-track.  Grimes  is  so  exhausted  that  he  could  barely 
hold  out  until  he  got  here.  He  says  he  never  could  have  brouglit 
them  through  from  Bluff  Siding  but  for  Mr.  Hayne :  he  did  every- 
thing." 

"  Mr.  Hayne  !     Was  he  with  them  ?" 

"  He  was,  on  the  train,  and  came  in  at  once  to  offer  his  services. 
Grimes  says  he  was  invaluable." 

"  But  Mr.  Hayne  was  East  on  leave :  I  hnow  he  was.  He  was 
promoted  to  my  company  last  month, — confound  the  luck  ! — and  was 
to  have  six  months'  leave  before  joining.  I  wish  it  was  six  years. 
Where  is  he  now  ?"  And  the  captain  peered  excitedly  around  from 
under  his  shaggy  cap.     Oddly,  too,  his  face  was  paling. 

"  He  left  as  soon  as  I  took  charge.  I  don't  know  where  he's 
gone;  but  it's  God's  mercy  he  w^as  with  these  poor  fellows.  His 
skill  and  care  have  done  everything  for  them.  Whei-e  did  he  get 
his  knowledge?" 

"  I've  no  idea,"  said  Captain  Eayner,  gruffly,  and  in  evident  ill 
humor.  "  He  is  the  last  man  I  expected  to  see  this  day  or  for  days  to 
come.     Is  there  anything  else  I  can  do,  doctor?" 

"  Nothing,  thank  you,  captain."  And  the  little  surgeon  hastened 
back  to  his  charges,  followed  by  some  of  the  younger  officers,  eager  to 
be  of  assistance  in  caring  for  their  disabled  comrades.  Rayner  himself 
hesitated  a  moment,  then  turned  about  and  trudged  heavily  back  along 
the  wind-swept  platform.     The  train  had  pulled  away,  and  was  out  of 


THE  DESERTER.  719 

sight  in  the  whirl  of  snow  over  the  Western  prairies.  He  went  to  his 
own  substantial  wagon,  and  shouted  to  the  driver,  who  sat  muffled  in 
buffiilo  fur  on  the  box, — 

"  Get  around  there  to  the  freight-house  and  report  to  the  doctor. 
There  are  a  lot  of  frozen  cavalrymen  to  be  taken  out  to  the  hospital. 
Don't  try  to  come  back  for  us  to  night :  we'll  stay  here  in  town.  Send 
the  quartermaster's  team  in  for  the  trunks  as  soon  as  the  storm  is  over 
and  the  road  clear.     That's  all." 

Then  he  rejoined  the  party  at  the  waiting-room  of  the  station,  and 
Mrs.  Ilayner  noted  instantly  that  all  the  clieeriness  had  gone  and  that 
a  cloud  had  settled  on  his  face.  She  was  a  shrewd  observer,  and  she 
knew  him  well.  Something  more  serious  than  a  mishap  to  a  squad 
of  soldiers  had  brought  about  the  sudden  change.  He  was  all  gkid- 
ness,  all  rejoicing  and  delight,  when  lie  clasped  her  and  his  baby  boy 
in  his  arms  but  ten  minutes  before,  and  now — something  had  occurral 
to  bring  him  serious  discomfort.  She  rested  her  hand  on  his  arm 
and  looked  questioningly  in  his  face.  He  avoided  her  glance,  and 
quickly  began  to  talk.  She  saw  that  he  desired  to  answer  no  questions 
just  then,  and  wisely  refrained. 

Meantime,  Miss  Travers  was  chatting  blithely  with  two  young  gal- 
lants who  had  returned  to  her  side,  and  who  had  thrown  off  their  heavy 
furs  and  now  stood  revealed  in  their  becoming  undress  uniforms.  Mr. 
Ross  had  gone  to  look  over  the  rooms  which  the  host  of  the  railway 
hotel  had  offered  for  the  use  of  the  party ;  the  baby  was  yielding  to  the 
inevitable  and  gradually  condescending  to  notice  the  efforts  of  Mr. 
Foster  to  scrape  acquaintance  ;  the  kitten,  with  dainty  step,  and  ears 
and  tail  erect,  was  making  a  leisurely  inspection  of  the  premises,  sniff- 
ing about  the  few  benches  and  chairs  with  which  the  bare  room  was 
burdened,  and  reconnoitring  the  door  leading  to  the  hall- way  with  evi- 
dent desire  to  extend  her  researches  in  that  direction.  Presently  that 
very  door  opened,  and  in  came  two  or  three  bundles  of  fur  in  masculine 
shape,  and  with  them  two  shaggy  deer-hounds,  who  darted  straight  at 
the  kitten.  There  was  a  sudden  flurry  and  scatter,  a  fury  of  spits  and 
scratching,  a  yelp  of  pain  from  one  brute  with  lacerated  nose,  a  sudden 
recoil  of  both  hounds,  and  then  a  fiery  rush  through  the  open  door-way 
in  pursuit  of  puss.  After  the  first  gallant  instinct  of  battle  her  nerve 
had  given  out,  and  she  had  sought  safety  in  flight. 

"  Oh,  don't  let  them  hurt  her  !'  cried  Miss  Travers,  as  she  darted 
into  the  hall  and  gazed  despairingly  up  the  stairway  to  the  second  story, 
whither  the  dogs  had  vanished  like  a  flash.  Two  of  the  young  officers 
sped  to  the  rescue  and  turned  the  wrong  way.  Mrs.  Rayner  and  the 
captain  followed  her  into  the  hall.  A  rush  of  canine  feet  and  an  ex- 
cited chorus  of  barks  and  yelps  were  heard  aloft ;  then  a  stern  voice 
ordering,  "  Down,  you  brutes  !"  a  sudden  howl  as  though  in  response 
to  a  vigorous  kick,  and  an  instant  later,  bearing  the  kitten,  ruffled,  ter- 
rified, and  wildly  excited,  yet  unharmed,  there  came  springing  lightly 
down  the  steps  the  young  man  in  civilian  dress  who  was  their  fellow- 
traveller  on  the  Pullman.  Without  a  word  he  gave  his  prize  into  the 
dainty  hands  outstretched  to  receive  it,  and,  never  stopping  an  instant, 
never  listening  to  the  eager  words  of  tliauks  from  her  pretty  lips,  he 


720  ^^^  DESERTER. 

darted  back  as  quickly  as  he  came,  leaving  Miss  Travers  suddenly- 
stricken  dumb. 

Captain  Rayner  turned  sharply  on  his  heel  and  stepped  back  into 
the  waiting-room.  Mr.  Ross  nudged  a  brother  lieutenant  and  whis- 
pered, "  By  gad  !  that's  awkward  for  Midas  !"  The  two  subalterns 
who  had  taken  the  wrong  turn  at  the  top  of  the  stairs  reappeared  there 
just  as  the  rescuer  shot  past  them  on  his  way  back,  and  stood  staring, 
first  after  his  disappearing  form,  and  then  at  each  other.  Miss  Travers, 
with  wonder  and  relief  curiously  mingled  in  her  sweet  face,  clung  to 
her  restored  kitten  and  gazed  vacantly  up  the  stairs. 

Mrs.  Rayner  looked  confusedly  from  one  to  the  other,  quickly 
noting  the  constraint  in  the  manner  of  every  officer  present  and  the 
sudden  disappearance  of  her  husband.  There  was  an  odd  silence  for 
a  moment :  then  she  spoke  : 

"  Mr.  Ross,  do  you  know  that  gentleman  ?" 

"  I  know  who  he  is.     Yes." 

"  Who  is  he,  then  ?" 

"  He  is  your  husband's  new  first  lieutenant,  Mrs.  Rayner.  That  is 
Mr.  Hayne." 

"  That ! — Mr.  Hayne  ?"  she  exclaimed,  growing  suddenly  pale. 

"  Certainly,  madame.     Had  you  never  seen  him  before  ?" 

"  Never  ;  and  I  expected — I  didn't  expect  to  see  such  a "    And 

she  broke  short  off,  confused  and  plainly  distressed,  turned  abruptly,  and 
left  the  hall  as  had  her  husband. 


III. 

The  officers  of  Fort  Warrener  were  assembled,  as  was  the  daily 
morning  custom,  in  the  presence  of  the  colonel  commanding.  It  had 
long  been  the  practice  of  that  veteran  soldier  to  require  all  his  com- 
missioned subordinates  to  put  in  an  appearance  at  his  office  immediately 
after  the  ceremony  of  guard-mounting.  He  might  have  nothing  to  say 
to  them,  or  he  might  have  a  good  deal ;  and  he  was  a  man  capable 
of  saying  a  good  deal  in  very  few  words,  and  meaning  exactly  what  he 
said.  It  was  his  custom  to  look  up  from  his  writing  as  each  officer 
entered  and  respond  to  the  respectful  salutation  tendered  him  with  an 
equally  punctilious  "  Good-morning,  Captain  Gregg,"  or  "  Good-morn- 
ing, Mr.  Blake," — never  omitting  the  mention  of  the  name,  unless,  as 
was  sometimes  tried,  a  squad  of  them  came  in  together  and  made  their 
obeisance  as  a  body.  In  this  event  the  colonel  simply  looked  each  man 
in  the  face,  as  though  taking  mental  note  of  the  individual  constituents 
of  the  group,  and  contented  himself  with  a  "  Good-morning,  gentle- 
men." 

When  in  addition  to  six  troops  of  his  own  regiment  of  cavalry 
there  were  sent  to  the  post  a  major  and  four  companies  of  infantry, 
some  of  the  junior  officers  of  the  latter  organization  had  suggested  to 
their  comrades  of  the  yellow  stripes  that  as  the  colonel  had  no  roll-call 
it  might  be  a  matter  of  no  great  risk  to  "  cut  the  matinee^'  on  some  of 
the  fiendishly  cold  mornings  that  soon  set  in  ;  but  the  experiment  was 
never  designedly  tried,  thanks,  possibly,  to  the  frank  exposition  of  his 


THE  DESERTER.  721 

personal  views  as  expressed  by  Lieutenant  Blake,  of  the  cavalry,  who 
said,  "  Try  it  if  you  are  stagnating  for  want  of  a  sensation,  my  genial 
plodder,  but  not  if  you  value  the  advice  of  one  who  has  been  there,  so 
to  speak.  The  chief  will  spot  you  quicker  than  lie  can  a  missing  shoe, 
—a  missing  horseshoe,  Johnny,  let  me  elaborate  for  your  comprehen- 
sion,— and  the  next  question  will  be,  '  Mr.  Bluestrap,  did  you  inten- 
tionally absent  yourself?'  and  then  how  will  you  get  out  of  it  ?" 

The  matinees,  so  called,  were  by  no  means  unpopular  features  of 
the  daily  routine.  The  officers  were  permitted  to  bring  their  pipes  or 
cigars  and  take  their  after-breakfast  smoke  in  the  big,  roomy  office  of 
the  commander,  just  as  they  were  permitted  to  enjoy  the  post-prandial 
whiff  when  at  evening  recitation  in  the  same  office  they  sat  around  the 
room,  chatting  in  low  tones,  for  half  an  hour,  while  the  colonel  re- 
ceived the  reports  of  his  adjutant,  the  surgeon,  and  the  old  and  the  new 
officer  of  the  day.  Then  any  matters  affecting  the  discipline  or  in- 
struction or  general  interests  of  the  command  were  brought  up ;  both 
sides  of  the  question  were  presented,  if  question  arose  ;  the  decision 
was  rendered  then  and  there,  and  the  officers  were  dismissed  for  the 
day  with  the  customary  "  That's  all,  gentlemen."  They  left  the  office 
well  knowing  that  only  in  the  event  of  some  sudden  emergency  would 
they  be  called  thither  again  or* disturbed  in  their  daily  vocations  until 
the  same  hour  on  the  following  morning.  Meantime,  they  must  be 
about  their  work  :  drills,  if  weather  permitted ;  stable-duty,  no  matter 
what  the  weather ;  garrison  courts,  boards  of  survey,  the  big  general 
court  that  was  perennially  dispensing  justice  at  the  post,  and  the  long 
list  of  minor  but  none  the  less  exacting  demands  on  the  time  and 
attention  of  the  subalterns  and  company  commanders.  The  colonel 
was  a  strict,  even  severe,  disciplinarian,  but  he  was  cool,  deliberate,  and 
just.  He  "  worked"  his  officers,  and  thereby  incurred  the  criticism  of 
a  few,  but  held  the  respect  of  all.  He  had  been  a  splendid  cavalry- 
commander  in  the  field  of  all  others  where  his  sterling  qualities  were 
sure  to  find  responsive  appreciation  in  his  officers  and  men, — on  active 
and  stirring  campaigns  against  the  Indians, — and  among  his  own  regi- 
ment he  knew  that  deep  in  their  hearts  the  — th  respected  and 
believed  in  him,  even  when  they  growled  at  garrison  exactions  which 
seemed  uncalled  for.  The  infantry  officers  knew  less  of  him  as  a  ster- 
ling campaigner,  and  were  not  so  well  pleased  with  his  discipline.  It 
was  all  right  for  him  to  "  rout  out"  every  mother's  son  in  the  cavalry 
at  reveille,  because  all  the  cavalry  officers  had  to  go  to  stables  soon 
afterwards, — that  was  all  they  were  fit  for, — but  what  on  earth  was  the 
use  of  getting  them — the  infantry — out  of  their  warm  beds  before 
sunrise  on  a  wintry  morning  and  having  no  end  of  roll-calls  and  such 
things  through  the  day,  "just  to  keep  them  busy"?  The  real  objection 
— the  main  objection — to  the  colonel's  system  was  that  it  kept  a  large 
number  of  officers,  most  of  whom  were  educated  gentlemen,  hammer- 
ing all  day  long  at  an  endless  routine  of  trivial  duties,  allowing  actually 
no  time  in  which  they  could  read,  study,  or  improve  their  minds ;  but, 
as  ill  luck  would  have  it,  the  three  young  gentlemen  who  decided  to 
present  to  the  colonel  this  view  of  the  case  had  been  devoting  what 
spare  time  they  could  find  to  a  lively  game  of  poker  down  at  "  the 


722  THE  DESERTER. 

store,"  and  their  petition  for  "  more  time  to  themselves"  brought  down 
a  reply  from  the  oracular  lips  of  the  commander  that  became  immortal 
on  the  frontier  and  made  the  petitioners  nearly  frantic.  For  a  week 
the  trio  was  the  butt  of  all  the  wits  at  Fort  Warrener.  And  yet  the  en- 
tire commissioned  force  felt  that  they  were  being  kept  at  the  grindstone 
because  of  the  frivolity  of  these  few  youngsters,  and  they  did  not  like 
it.  All  the  same  the  cavalrymen  stuck  up  for  their  colonel,  and  the  in- 
fantrymen respected  him,  and  the  matinees  were  business-like  and  profit- 
able. They  were  rarely  unpleasant  in  any  feature ;  but  this  particular 
morning — two  days  after  the  arrival  of  Mrs.  Rayner  and  her  sister — 
there  had  been  a  scene  of  somewhat  dramatic  interest,  and  the  groups 
of  officers  in  breaking  up  and  going  away  could  discuss  nothing  else. 
The  colonel  had  requested  one  of  their  number  to  remain,  as  he  wished 
to  speak  to  him  further ;  and  that  man  was  Lieutenant  Hayne. 

Seven  years  had  that  young  gentleman  been  a  second  lieutenant 
of  the  regiment  of  infantry  a  detachment  of  Avhich  was  now  stationed 
at  Warrener.  Only  this  very  winter  had  promotion  come  to  him ; 
and,  of  all  companies  in  the  regiment,  he  was  gazetted  to  the  first- 
lieutenancy  of  Captain  Rayner's.  For  a  while  the  regiment  when  by 
itself  could  talk  of  little  else.  Mr.  Hayne  had  spent  three  or  four 
years  in  the  exile  of  a  little  "  two-company  post"  far  up  in  the  moun- 
tains. Except  the  officers  there  stationed,  none  of  his  comrades  had 
seen  him  during  that  time.  No  one  of  them  would  like  to  admit  that 
he  would  care  to  see  him.  And  yet,  when  once  in  a  while  they  got  to 
talking  among  themselves  about  him,  and  the  question  was  sometimes 
confidentially  asked  of  comrades  who  came  down  on  leave  from  that 
isolated  station,  "  How  is  Hayne  doing  ?"  or,  "  What  is  Hayne  doing  ?" 
the  language  in  which  he  was  referred  to  grew  by  degrees  far  less 
truculent  and  confident  than  it  had  been  when  he  first  went  thither. 
Officers  of  other  regiments  rarely  spoke  to  the  "  Riflers"  of  Mr.  Hayne. 
Unlike  one  or  two  others  of  their  arm  of  the  service,  this  particular 
regiment  of  foot  held  the  affiiirs  of  its  officers  as  regimental  property 
in  which  outsiders  had  no  concern.  If  they  had  disagreements,  they 
were  kept  to  themselves ;  and  even  in  a  case  which  in  its  day  had  at- 
tracted wide-spread  attention  the  Riflers  had  long  since  learned  to  shun 
all  talk  outside.  It  was  evident  to  other  commands  that  the  Hayne 
affair  was  a  sore  point  and  one  on  which  they  preferred  silence.  And 
yet  it  was  getting  to  be  whispered  around  that  the  Riflers  were  by  no 
means  so  unanimous  as  they  had  been  in  their  opinion  of  this  very 
officer.  They  were  becoming  divided  among  themselves  ;  and  what  com- 
plicated matters  was  the  fact  that  those  who  felt  their  views  under- 
going a  reconstruction  were  compelled  to  admit  that  just  in  proportion 
as  the  case  of  Mr.  Hayne  rose  in  their  estimation  the  reputation  of  an- 
other officer  was  bound  to  suffer ;  and  that  officer  was  Captain  Rayner. 

Between  these  two  men  not  a  word  had  been  exchanged  for  five 
years, — not  a  single  word  since  the  day  when,  with  ashen  face  and 
broken  accents,  but  with  stern  purpose  in  every  syllable.  Lieutenant 
Hayne,  standing  in  the  presence  of  nearly  all  the  officers  of  his  regi- 
ment, had  hurled  this  prophecy  in  his  adversary's  teeth  :  "  Though 
it  take  me  years,  I  will  live  it  down  desj)ite  you ;  and  you  will  wish 


THE  DESERTER.  723 

to  God  you  had  bitten  out  your  perjured  tongue  before  ever  you  told  the 
lie  that  wrecked  me." 

No  wonder  there  was  talk,  and  lots  of  it,  in  the  "  Riflers"  and  all 
through  the  garrison  when  llayner's  first  lieutenant  suddenly  threw  up 
his  commission  and  retired  to  the  mines  he  had  located  in  Montana, 
and  Hayne,  the  "  senior  second,"  was  promoted  to  the  vacancy.  Specu- 
lation as  to  what  would  be  the  result  was  given  a  temporary  rest  by 
the  news  that  War  Department  orders  had  granted  the  subaltern  six 
months'  leave, — the  first  he  had  sought  in  as  many  years.  It  was 
known  that  he  had  gone  East ;  but  hardly  had  he  been  away  a  fort- 
night when  there  came  the  trouble  with  the  Cheyennes  at  the  reserva- 
tion,— a  leap  for  liberty  by  some  fifty  of  the  band,  and  an  immediate 
rush  of  the  cavalry  in  pursuit.  There  were  some  bloody  atrocities,  as 
there  always  are.  All  the  troops  in  the  department  were  ordered  to  be 
in  readiness  for  instant  service,  while  the  officials  eagerly  watched  the 
reports  to  see  which  way  the  desperate  band  would  turn ;  and  the  next 
heard  of  Mr.  Hayne  was  the  news  that  he  had  thrown  up  his  leave 
and  had  hurried  out  to  join  his  company  the  moment  the  Eastern 
papers  told  of  the  trouble.  It  was  all  practically  settled  by  the  time 
he  reached  the  department ;  but  the  spirit  and  intent  of  his  action 
could  not  be  doubted.  And  now  here  he  was  at  Warrener.  That  very 
morning  during  the  matinee  he  had  entered  the  office  unannounced, 
"walked  up  to  the  desk  of  the  commander,  and,  while  every  voice  but 
his  in  the  room  was  stilled,  he  quietly  spoke : 

"  Permit  me  to  introduce  myself,  colonel, — Mr.  Hayne.  I  desire 
to  relinquish  my  leave  of  absence  and  report  for  duty." 

The  colonel  quickly  arose  and  extended  his  hand  : 

"  Mr.  Hayne,  I  am  especially  glad  to  see  you  and  to  thank  you  here 
for  all  your  care  and  kindness  to  our  men.  The  doctor  tells  me  that 
many  of  them  would  have  had  to  suffer  the  loss  of  noses  and  ears,  even 
of  hands  and  feet  in  some  cases,  but  for  your  attention.  Major  Stannard 
will  add  his  thanks  to  mine  when  he  returns.  Take  a  seat,  sir,  for  the 
present.  You  are  acquainted  with  the  officers  of  your  own  regiment, 
doubtless.     Mr.  Billings,  introduce  Mr.  Hayne  to  ours." 

Whereat  the  adjutant  courteously  greeted  the  new-comer,  presented  a 
small  party  of  yellow-strapped  shoulders,  and  then  drew  him  into  earnest 
talk  about  the  adventure  of  the  train.  It  was  noticed  that  Mr.  Hayne 
neither  by  word  nor  glance  gave  the  slightest  recognition  of  the  presence 
of  the  officers  of  his  own  regiment,  and  that  they  as  studiously  avoided 
him.  One  or  two  of  their  number  had,  indeed,  risen  and  stepped  for- 
ward, as  though  to  offer  him  the  civil  greeting  due  to  one  of  their  own 
cloth ;  but  it  was  with  evident  doubt  of  the  result.  They  reddened 
when  he  met  their  tentative — which  was  that  of  a  gentleman — with  a 
cold  look  of  utter  repudiation.  He  did  not  choose  to  see  them,  and,  of 
course,  that  ended  it. 

Nor  was  his  greeting  hearty  among  the  cavalrymen.  There  were 
only  a  few  present,  as  most  of  the  — th  were  still  out  in  the  field  and 
marching  slowly  homeward.  The  introductions  were  courteous  and 
formal,  there  was  even  constraint  among  some  two  or  three,  but  there 
was  civility  and  an  evident  desire  to  refer  to  his  services  in  behalf  of 


724  THE  DESERTER. 

their  men.  All  sucli  attempts,  however,  Mr.  Hayne  waved  aside  by 
an  immediate  change  of  the  subject.  It  was  plain  that  to  them,  too, 
he  had  the  manner  of  a  man  who  was  at  odds  with  the  world  and 
desired  to  make  no  friends. 

The  colonel  quickly  noted  the  general  silence  and  constraint,  and 
resolved  to  shorten  it  as  much  as  possible.  Dropping  his  pen,  he 
wheeled  around  in  his  chair  with  determined  cheerfulness : 

"  Mr.  Hayne,  you  will  need  a  day  or  two  to  look  about  before  you 
select  quarters  and  get  ready  for  work,  I  presume." 

"  Thank  you,  colonel.  No,  sir.  I  shall  move  in  this  afternoon  and 
be  on  duty  to-morrow  morning,"  was  the  calm  reply. 

There  was  an  awkward  pause  for  a  moment.  The  officers  looked 
blankly  from  one  to  another,  and  then  began  craning  their  necks  to 
search  for  the  post  quartermaster,  who  sat  an  absorbed  listener.  Then 
the  colonel  spoke  again  : 

"  I  appreciate  your  promptness,  Mr.  Hayne ;  but  have  you  considered 
that  in  choosing  quarters  according  to  your  rank  you  will  necessarily 
move  somebody  out?  We  are  crowded  now,  and  many  of  your  juniors 
are  married,  and  the  ladies  will  want  time  to  pack." 

An  anxious  silence  again.  Captain  Rayner  was  gazing  at  his  boot- 
toes  and  trying  to  appear  utterly  indifferent ;  others  leaned  forward,  as 
though  eager  to  hear  the  answer.  A  faint  smile  crossed  Mr.  Hayne's 
features :  he  seemed  rather  to  enjoy  the  situation : 

"  I  have  considered,  colonel.  I  shall  turn  nobody  out,  and  nobody 
need  be  incommoded  in  the  least." 

"  Oh !  then  you  will  share  quarters  with  some  of  the  bachelors  ?" 
asked  the  colonel,  with  evident  relief. 

"No,  sir;"  and  the  answer  was  stern  in  tone,  tliough  perfectly 
respectful :  "  I  shall  live  as  I  have  lived  for  years, — utterly  alone." 

One  could  have  heard  a  pin  drop  in  the  office, — even  on  the  matted 
floor.     The  colonel  half  rose  : 

"  Why,  Mr.  Hayne,  there  is  not  a  vacant  set  of  quarters  in  the 
garrison.  You  will  liave  to  move  some  one  out  if  you  decide  to  live 
alone." 

"  There  may  be  no  quarters  in  the  post,  sir,  but,  if  you  will  permit 
me,  I  can  live  near  my  company  and  yet  in  officers'  quarters." 

"  How  so,  sir  ?" 

"  In  the  house  out  there  on  the  edge  of  the  garrison,  facing  tlie 
prairie.  It  is  within  stone's-throw  of  the  barracks  of  Company  B,  and 
is  exactly  like  those  built  for  the  officers  in  here  along  the  parade." 

"  Why,  Mr.  Hayne,  no  officers  ever  lived  there.  It  is  utterly  out 
of  the  way  and  isolated.  I  believe  it  was  built  for  the  sutler  years  ago, 
but  was  bought  in  by  the  government  afterwards. — Who  lives  there 
now,  Mr.  Quartermaster  ?" 

"  No  one,  sir.  It  is  being  used  as  a  tailors'  shop  ;  half  a  dozen  of 
the  company  tailors  work  there ;  but  I  can  send  them  back  to  their  own 
barracks.  The  house  is  in  good  repair,  and,  as  Mr.  Hayne  says,  exactly 
like  those  built  for  officers'  use." 

"  And  you  mean  you  want  to  live  there,  alone,  Mr.  Hayne  ?" 

"  I  do,  sir, — exactly." 


THE  DESERTER.  725 

The  colonel  turned  sharply  to  his  desk  once  more.  The  strained 
silence  continued  a  moment.     Then  he  faced  his  officers : 

"  Mr.  Hayne,  will  you  remain  a  few  moments  ?  I  wish  to  speak 
with  you. — Gentlemen,  that  is  all  this  morning."  And  so  the  meeting 
adjourned. 

While  many  of  the  cavalry  officers  strolled  into  the  neighboring 
club-  and  reading-room,  it  was  noticed  that  their  comrades  of  the  in- 
fantry lost  no  time  at  intermediate  points,  but  took  the  shortest  road  to 
the  row  of  brown  cottages  known  as  the  officers'  quarters.  The  feeling 
of  constraint  that  had  settled  upon  all  was  still  apparent  in  the  group 
that  entered  the  club-room,  and  for  a  moment  no  one  spoke.  There 
was  a  general  settling  into  easy-chairs  and  picking  up  of  newspapers 
without  reference  to  age  or  date.  No  one  seemed  to  want  to  say  any- 
thing, and  yet  every  one  felt  it  necessary  to  have  some  apparent  excuse 
for  becoming  absorbed  in  other  matters.  This  was  so  evident  to  Lieu- 
tenant Blake  that  he  speedily  burst  into  a  laugh, — the  first  that  had  been 
heard, — and  when  two  or  three  heads  popped  out  from  behind  their 
printed  screens  to  inquire  into  the  cause  of  his  mirth,  that  light-hearted 
gentleman  was  seen  sprawling  his  long  legs  apart  and  gazing  out  of  the 
window  after  the  groups  of  infantrymen. 

"  What  do  you  see  that's  so  intensely  funny  ?"  growled  one  of  the 
elders  among  the  dragoons. 

"  Nothing,  old  mole, — nothing,"  said  Blake,  turning  suddenly  about. 
"  It  looks  too  much  like  a  funeral  procession  for  fun.  What  I'm 
chuckling  at  is  the  absurdity  of  our  coming  in  here  like  so  many  mutes 
in  weepers.     It's  none  of  our  funeral." 

"Strikes  me  the  situation  is  damned  awkward,"  growled  "the 
mole"  again.  "  Here's  a  fellow  comes  in  who's  cut  by  his  regiment 
and  has  placed  ours  under  lasting  obligation  before  he  gets  inside  the 
post." 

"  Well,  does  any  man  here  know  the  rights  and  wrongs  of  the  case, 
anyhow  ?"  said  a  tall,  bearded  captain  as  he  threw  aside  the  paper  which 
he  had  not  been  reading,  and  rose  impatiently  to  his  feet.  "  It  seems  to 
me,  from  the  little  I've  heard  of  Mr.  Hayne  and  the  little  I've  seen, 
that  there  is  a  broad  variation  between  facts  and  appearances.  He  looks 
like  a  gentleman." 

"  No  one  does  know  anything  more  of  the  matter  than  was  known 
at  the  time  of  the  court-martial  five  years  ago,"  answered  "  the  mole." 
"  Of  course  you  have  heard  all  about  that ;  and  my  experience  is  that 
when  a  body  of  officers  and  gentlemen  find,  after  due  deliberation  on 
the  evidence,  that  another  has  been  guilty  of  conduct  unbecoming  an 
officer  and  a  gentleman,  the  chances  are  a  hundred  to  one  he  has  been 
doing  something  disreputable,  to  say  the  least." 

"  Then  why  wasn't  he  dismissed  ?"  queried  a  young  lieutenant. 
"  The  law  says  he  must  be." 

"  That's  right,  Dolly :  pull  your  Ives  and  Benet  on  'em,  and  show 
you  know  all  about  military  law  and  courts-martial,"  said  the  captain, 
crushingly.  "  It's  one  thing  for  a  court  to  sentence,  and  another  for 
the  President  to  approve.  Hayne  icas  dismissed,  so  far  as  a  court 
could  do  it,  but  the  President  remitted  the  whole  thing." 


726  ^^^  DESERTER. 

"  There  was  more  to  it  than  that,  thoUgh,  and  you  know  it,  Bux- 
ton," said  Blake.  "  Neither  the  department  commander  nor  General 
Sherman  thought  the  evidence  conchisive,  and  they  said  so, — especially 
old  Gray  Fox.  And  you  ask  any  of  these  fellows  here  now  Avhether 
they  believe  Hayne  was  really  guilty,  and  I'll  bet  you  that  eight  out  of 
ten  will  flunk  at  the  question." 

"  And  yet  they  all  cut  him  dead.  That's  prima  fade  evidence  of 
what  they  think." 

"  Cut  be  blowed  !  By  gad,  if  any  man  asked  me  to  testify  on  oath 
as  to  where  the  cut  lay,  I  should  say  he  had  cut  them.  Did  you  see 
how  he  ignored  Foster  and  Graham  this  morning  ?" 

"  I  did ;  and  I  thought  it  damned  ungentlemanly  in  him.  Those 
fellows  did  the  proper  thing,  and  he  ought  to  have  acknowledged  it," 
broke  in  a  third  officer. 

"  I'm  not  defending  that  point ;  the  Lord  knows  he  has  done 
nothing  to  encourage  civility  with  his  own  people ;  but  there  are  two 
sides  to  every  story,  and  I  asked  their  adjutant  last  fall,  when  there  was 
some  talk  of  his  company's  being  sent  here,  what  Hayne's  status  was, 
and  he  told  me.  There  isn't  a  squarer  man  or  sounder  soldier  in  the 
army  than  the  adjutant  of  the  Riflers ;  and  he  said  that  it  was  Hayne's 
stubborn  pride  that  more  than  anything  else  stood  in  the  way  of  his 
restoration  to  social  standing.  He  had  made  it  a  rule  that  every  one 
who  was  not  for  him  was  against  him,  and  refused  to  admit  any  man  to 
his  society  who  would  not  first  come  to  him  of  his  own  volition  and  say 
he  believed  him  utterly  innocent.  As  that  involved  the  necessity  of  their 
looking  upon  Rayner  as  either  perjured  or  grossly  and  persistently 
mistaken,  no  one  felt  called  upon  to  do  it.  Guilty  or  innocent,  he  has 
lived  the  life  of  a  Pariah  ever  since." 

"  /  wanted  to  open  out  to  him,  to-day,"  said  Captain  Gregg,  "  but 
the  moment  I  began  to  speak  of  his  great  kindness  to  our  men  he  froze 
as  stiff  as  Mulligan's  ear.  What  was  the  use?  I  simply  couldn't 
thaw  an  icicle.  What  made  him  so  effective  in  getting  the  frost  out  of 
them  was  his  capacity  for  absorbing  it  into  his  own  system." 

"  Well,  here,  gentlemen,"  said  Buxton,  impatiently,  "  we've  got  to 
face  this  thing  sooner  or  later,  and  may  as  well  do  it  now.  I  know 
Rayner,  and  like  him,  and  don't  believe  he's  the  kind  of  man  to  wilfully 
wrong  another.  I  don't  know  Mr.  Hayne,  and  Mr.  Hayne  apparently 
don't  want  to  know  me.  /think  that  where  a  man  has  been  convicted 
of  dishonorable — disgraceful  conduct  and  is  cut  by  his  whole  regiment 
it  is  our  business  to  back  the  regiment,  not  the  man.  Now  the  question 
is,  where  shall  we  draw  the  line  in  this  case?  It's  none  of  our  funeral, 
as  Blake  says,  but  ordinarily  it  would  be  our  duty  to  call  upon  this 
officer.  Shall  we  do  it,  now  that  he  is  in  Coventry,  or  shall  we  leave 
him  to  his  own  devices  ?" 

"  I'll  answer  for  myself,  Buxton,"  said  Blake,  "  and  you  can  do  as 
you  please.  Except  that  one  thing,  and  the  not  unusual  frivolities  of  a 
youngster  that  occurred  previous  to  his  trial,  I  understand  that  his 
character  has  been  above  reproach.  So  far  as  I  can  learn,  he  is  a  far 
more  rej)utable  character  than  I  am,  and  a  better  officer  than  most  of  us. 
Growl  all  you  want  to,  comrades  mine :  '  it's  a  way  we  have  in  the 


THE  DESERTER.  727 

army,'  and  I  like  it.  So  long  as  I  include  myself  in  these  malodorous 
comparisons,  you  needn't  SM-ear.  It  is  my  conviction  that  the  Riflers 
wouldn't  say  he  was  guilty  to-day  if  they  hadn't  said  so  five  years  ago. 
It  is  my  information  that  he  has  paid  every  cent  of  the  damages, 
whether  he  caused  them  or  not,  and  it  is  my  intention  to  go  and  call 
upon  Mr.  Hayne  as  soon  as  he's  settled.  I  don't  propose  to  influence 
any  man  in  his  action ;  and  excuse  me,  Buxton,  I  think  you  did.'' 

The  captain  looked  wrathful.  Blake  was  an  oddity,  of  whom  he 
rather  stood  in  awe,  for  there  was  no  mistaking  the  popularity  and 
respect  in  which  he  was  held  in  his  own  regiment.  The  — th  was 
somewhat  remarkable  for  being  emphatically  an  "  outspoken  crowd," 
and  for  some  years,  thanks  to  a  leaven  of  strong  and  truthful  men  in 
whom  this  trait  was  pronounced  and  sustained,  it  had  grown  to  be  the 
custom  of  all  but  a  few  of  the  officers  to  discuss  openly  and  fully  all 
matters  of  regimental  policy  and  utterly  to  discountenance  covert  action 
of  any  kind.  Blake  was  thoroughly  popular,  and  generally  respected, 
despite  a  tendency  to  rant  and  rattle  on  most  occasions.  Nevertheless, 
there  were  signs  of  dissent  as  to  the  line  of  action  he  proposed,  though 
it  were  only  for  his  own  guidance. 

"And  how  do  you  suppose  Rayner  and  the  Riflers  generally  will 
regard  your  calling  on  their  black  sheep?"  asked  Buxton,  after  a 
pause. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Blake,  more  seriously,  and  with  a  tone 
of  concern.  "  I  like  Rayner,  and  have  found  most  of  those  fellows 
thorough  gentlemen  and  good  friends.  This  will  test  the  question 
thoroughly.  I  believe  most  of  them,  except  of  course  Rayner,  would 
do  the  same  were  they  in  my  place.     At  all  events,  I  mean  to  see." 

"  AVhat  are  you  going  to  do,  Gregg?"  asked  "the  mole,"  wheeling 
suddenly  on  his  brother  troop-commander. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Gregg,  doubtfully.  "  I  think  I'll  ask  the 
colonel." 

"  What  do  you  suppose  lie  means  to  do  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  again  ;  but  I'll  l)et  we  all  know  as  soon  as  he  makes 
np  his  mind  ;  and  he  is  making  up  his  mind  now, — or  he's  made  it  up, 
for  there  goes  Mr.  Hayne,  and  here  comes  the  orderly.  Something's  up 
already." 

Every  head  was  turned  to  the  door- way  as  the  orderly's  step  was 
heard  in  the  outer  hall,  and  every  voice  stilled  to  hear  the  message,  it 
was  so  unusual  for  the  commanding  officer  to  send  for  one  of  his  sub- 
ordinates after  the  morning  meeting.  The  soldier  tapped  at  the  panel, 
and  at  the  prompt  "  Come  in"  pushed  it  partly  open  and  stood  with  one 
white-gloved  hand  resting  on  the  knob,  the  other  raised  to  his  caji-visor 
in  salute. 

"  Lieutenant  Blake  ?"  he  asked,  as  he  glanced  around. 

"  What  is  it  ?"  asked  Blake,  stepping  quickly  from  the  window. 

"  The  commanding  officer's  compliments,  sir,  and  could  he  see  the 
lieutenant  one  minute  before  the  court  meets  ?" 

"  Coming  at  once,"  said  Blake,  as  he  pushed  his  way  through  the 
chairs,  and  the  orderly  faced  about  and  disappeared. 

"  I'll  bet  it's  about  Hayne,"  was  the  apparently  unanimous  senti- 


728  THE  DESERTER. 

ment  as  the  cavalry  party  broke  up  and  scattered  for  the  morning's 
duties.     Some  waited  purposely  to  hear. 

The  adjutant  alone  stood  in  the  colonel's  presence  as  Blake  knocked 
and  entered.  All  others  had  gone.  There  was  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion, and  the  colonel  paused  and  looked  his  man  over  before  he  spoke : 

"  You  will  excuse  my  sending  for  you,  Mr.  Blake,  when  I  tell  you 
that  it  is  a  matter  that  has  to  be  decided  at  once.  In  this  case  you 
will  consider,  too,  that  I  want  you  to  say  yes  or  no  exactly  as  you 
would  to  a  comrade  of  your  own  grade.  If  you  were  asked  to  meet 
Mr.  Hayne  at  any  other  house  in  the  garrison  than  mine,  would  you 
desire  to  accept?  You  are  aware  of  all  the  circumstances,  the  adjutant 
tells  me." 

"  I  am,  sir,  and  have  just  announced  my  intention  of  calling  upon 
him." 

"  Then  will  you  dine  with  us  this  evening  to  meet  Mr.  Hayne  ?" 

"  I  will  do  so  with  pleasure,  sir." 

It  could  hardly  have  been  an  hour  afterwards  when  Mrs.  Rayner 
entered  the  library  in  her  cosey  home  and  found  Miss  Travers  enter- 
taining herself  with  a  book. 

"  Have  you  written  to  Mr.  Van  Antwerp  this  morning  ?"  she 
asked.     "  I  thought  that  was  what  you  came  here  for." 

''  I  did  mean  to,  but  Mrs.  "VValdron  has  been  here,  and  I  was  in- 
terrupted." 

"  It  is  fully  fifteen  minutes  since  she  left,  Nellie.  You  might  have 
written  two  or  three  pages  already  ;  and  you  know  that  all  manner  of 
visitors  will  be  coming  in  by  noon." 

"  I  was  just  thinking  over  something  she  told  me.  I'll  write 
presently." 

"  Mrs.  Waldron  is  a  woman  who  talks  about  everything  and  every- 
body. I  advise  you  to  listen  to  her  no  more  than  you  can  help.  What 
was  it  she  told  you  ?" 

Miss  Travers  smiled  roguishly  :  "  Why  should  you  want  to  know, 
Kate,  if  you  disapprove  of  her  revelations  ?" 

"  Oh,"  with  visible  annoyance,  "  it  is  to — I  wanted  to  know  so  as 
to  let  you  see  that  it  was  something  unfounded,  as  usual." 

"  She  said  she  had  just  been  told  that  the  colonel  was  going  to  give 
a  dinner-party  this  evening  to  Mr.  Hayne." 

"What?'' 

"She — said — she — had — just — been — told — that — the  colonel — was 
going — to  give — a  dinner-party — this  evening — to  Mr. Hayne." 

"Who  told  her?" 

"  Kate,  I  didn't  ask." 

"  Who  are  invited  ?     None  of  ours  f 

"  Kate,  I  don't  know." 

"  Where  did  she  say  she  had  heard  it  ?" 

"  She  didn't  say." 

Mrs.  Rayner  paused  one  moment,  irresolute :  "  Didn't  she  tell  you 
anything  more  about  it  ?" 

"  Notliing,  sister  mine.     Why  should  you  feel  such  an  interest  in 


THE  DESERTER.  729 

what  Mrs.  Waldron  says,  if  she's  such  a  gossip  ?"  And  Miss  Travera 
was  evidently  having  hard  work  to  keep  from  laughing  outright. 

"  You  had  better  write  your  letter,"  said  her  big  sister,  and  flounced 
suddenly  out  of  the  room  and  up  the  stairs. 

A  moment  later  she  was  at  the  parlor  door  with  a  wrap  thrown  over 
her  shoulders  :  "  If  Captain  Rayner  comes  in,  tell  him  I  want  particu- 
larly to  see  him  before  he  goes  out  again." 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Kate  ?" 

''  Oh,  just  over  to  Mrs.  Waldron's  a  moment." 

IV. 

Facing  the  broad,  bleak  prairie,  separated  from  it  only  by  a  rough, 
unpainted  picket  fence,  and  flanked  by  uncouth  structures  of  pine,  one 
of  which  was  used  as  a  storehouse  for  quartermaster's  property,  the 
other  as  the  post-trader's  depository  for  skins  and  furs,  there  stood  the 
frame  cottage  which  Mr.  Hayne  had  chosen  as  his  home.  As  has  been 
said,  it  M^as  precisely  like  those  built  for  the  subaltern  officers,  so  far  as 
material,  plan,  and  dimensions  were  concerned.  The  locality  made  the 
vast  difference  which  really  existed.  Theirs  stood  all  in  a  row,  fronting 
the  grassy  level  of  the  parade,  surrounded  by  verandas,  bordering  on  a 
well-kept  gravel  path  and  an  equally  well  graded  drive.  Clear,  spark- 
ling water  rippled  in  tiny  aceqidas  through  the  front  yards  of  each,  and 
so  furnished  the  moisture  needed  for  the  life  of  various  little  shrubs 
and  flowering  plants.  The  surroundings  were  at  least  "  sociable,"  and 
there  was  companionship  and  jollity,  with  an  occasional  tifl*  to  keep 
things  lively.  The  married  officers,  as  a  rule,  had  chosen  their  quarters 
farthest  from  the  entrance-gate  and  nearest  those  of  the  colonel  com- 
manding. The  bachelors,  except  the  two  or  three  who  were  old  in  the 
service  and  had  "  rank"  in  lieu  of  encumbrances,  were  all  herded  to- 
gether along  the  eastern  end,  a  situation  that  had  disadvantages  as  con- 
nected with  duties  which  required  the  frequent  presence  of  the  occupants 
at  the  court-martial  rooms  or  at  head-quarters,  and  that  was  correspond- 
ingly far  distant  from  the  barracks  of  the  soldiers.  It  had  its  recom- 
mendations in  being  convenient  to  the  card-room  and  billiard-tables  at 
"  the  store,"  and  in  embracing  within  its  limits  one  house  Avhich  pos- 
sessed mysterious  interest  in  the  eyes  of  every  woman  and  most  of  the 
men  in  the  garrison  :  it  was  said  to  be  haunted. 

A  sorely-perplexed  man  was  the  post  quartermaster  when  the  rumor 
came  out  from  the  railway-station  that  Mr.  Hayne  had  arrived  and  was 
coming  to  report  for  duty.  As  a  first  lieutenant  he  would  have  choice 
of  quarters  over  every  second  lieutenant  in  the  garrison  :  there  were  ten 
of  these  young  gentlemen,  and  four  of  the  ten  were  married.  Every 
set  of  quarters  had  its  occupants,  and  Hayne  could  move  in  nowhere, 
unless  as  occupant  of  a  room  or  two  in  the  house  of  some  cornrade, 
without  first  compelling  others  to  move  out.  This  proceeding  would 
lead  to  vast  discomfort,  occurring  as  it  would  in  the  dead  of  winter, 
and  the  youngsters  were  naturally  perturbed  in  spirit, — their  wives 
especially  so.  What  made  the  prospects  infinitely  worse  was  the  fact 
that  the  cavalry  bachelors  were  already  living  tliree  in  a  house :  the 
Vol.  XXXIX.— 48 


730  ^-^^  DESERTER. 

only  spare  rooms  were  in  the  quarters  of  the  second  lieutenants  of 
the  infantry,  and  they  were  not  on  speaking-terras  with  Mr.  Hayne, 
Everything,  therefore,  pointed  to  the  probability  of  his  "displacing" 
a  junior,  who  would  in  turn  displace  somebody  else,  and  so  they 
would  go  tumbling  like  a  row  of  bricks  until  the  lowest  and  last  was 
reached.  All  this  would  involve  no  end  of  worry  for  the  quarter- 
master, who  even  under  the  most  favorable  circumstances  is  sure  to 
be  the  least  appreciated  and  most  abused  officer  under  the  comman- 
dant himself,  and  that  worthy  was  simply  agasp  with  relief  and  joy 
when  he  heard  Mr.  Hayne's  astonishing  announcement  that  he  would 
take  the  quarters  out  on  "  Prairie  Avenue." 

It  was  the  talk  of  the  garrison  all  that  day.  The  ladies,  especially, 
had  a  good  deal  to  say,  because  many  of  the  men  seemed  averse  to  ex- 
pressing their  views.  "  Quite  the  proper  thing  for  Mr.  Hayne  to  do," 
was  the  apparent  opinion  of  the  majority  of  the  young  wives  and 
mothers.  As  a  particularly  kind  and  considerate  thing  it  was  not  re- 
marked by  one  of  them,  though  that  view  of  the  case  went  not  entirely 
unrepresented.  In  choosing  to  live  there  Mr,  Hayne  separated  himself 
from  companionship.  That,  said  some  of  the  commentators, — men 
as  well  as  women, — he  simply  accepted  as  the  virtue  of  necessity,  and 
so  there  was  nothing  to  commend  in  his  action.  But  Mr.  Hayne  was 
said  to  possess  an  eye  for  the  picturesque  and  beautiful.  If  so,  he 
deliberately  condemned  himself  to  the  daily  contemplation  of  a  treeless 
barren,  streaked  in  occasional  shallows  with  dingy  patches  of  snow, 
ornamented  only  in  spots  by  abandoned  old  hats,  boots,  or  tin  cans 
blown  beyond  the  jurisdiction  of  the  garrison  police-parties.  A  line 
of  telegraph-poles  was  all  that  intervened  between  his  fence  and  the 
low-lying  hills  of  the  eastern  horizon.  SoutheastM^ard  lay  the  distant 
roofs  and  the  low,  squat  buildings  of  the  frontier  town ;  southward  the 
shallow  valley  of  the  winding  creek  in  which  lay  the  long  line  of 
stables  for  the  cavalry  and  the  great  stacks  of  hay ;  while  the  row  on 
which  he  chose  to  live — "  Prairie  Avenue,"  as  it  was  termed — was  far 
worse  at  his  end  of  it  than  at  the  other.  It  covered  the  whole  eastern 
front.  The  big,  brown  hospital  building  stood  at  the  northern  end. 
Then  came  the  quarters  of  the  surgeon  and  his  assistants,  then  the 
snug  home  of  the  post  trader,  then  the  "store"  and  its  scattering 
appendages,  then  the  entrance-gateway,  then  a  broad  vacant  space, 
through  which  the  wind  swept  like  a  hurricane,  then  the  little  shanty 
of  the  trader's  fur  house  and  one  or  two  hovel-like  structures  used  by 
the  tailors  and  cobbler  of  the  adjacent  infantry  companies.  Then  came 
the  cottage  itself:  south  of  it  stood  the  quartermaster's  store-room, 
back  of  which  lay  an  extension  filled  with  ordnance  stores,  then  other 
and  similar  sheds  devoted  to  commissary  supplies,  the  post  butcher- 
shop,  the  saddler's  shop,  then  big  coal-sheds,  and  then  the  brow  of  the 
bluif,  down  which  at  a  steep  grade  plunged  the  road  to  the  stables.  It 
was  as  unprepossessing  a  place  for  a  home  as  ever  was  chosen  by  a  man 
of  education  or  position ;  and  Mr.  Hayne  was  possessed  of  both. 

In  garrison,  despite  the  flat  parade,  there  was  a  grand  expanse  of 
country  to  be  seen  stretching  away  towards  the  snow-covered  Rockies. 
There  was  life  and  the  sense  of  neiffhborliness  to  one's  kind.     Out  on 


THE  DESERTER.  731 

Prairie  Avenue  all  was  wintry  desolation,  except  when  twice  each  day 
the  cavalry  officers  went  plodding  by  on  their  way  to  and  from  the 
stables,  muffled  up  in  their  fur  caps  and  coats,  and  hardly  distinguish- 
able from  so  many  bears,  much  less  from  one  another. 

And  yet  Mr.  Hayne  smiled  not  unhappily  as  he  glanced  from  his 
eastern  window  at  this  group  of  burly  warriors  the  afternoon  succeed- 
ing his  dinner  at  the  colonel's.  He  had  been  busy  all  day  long  un- 
packing books,  book-shelves,  some  few  pictures  which  he  loved,  and  his 
simple,  soldierly  outfit  of  household  goods,  and  getting  them  into  shape. 
His  sole  assistant  was  a  Chinese  servant,  who  worked  rapidly  and  well, 
and  who  seemed  in  no  wise  dismayed  by  the  bleakness  of  their  sur- 
roundings. If  anything,  he  was  disposed  to  grin  and  indulge  in  high- 
pitched  commentaries  in  "  j^idgin  English"  upon  the  unaccustomed 
amount  of  room.  His  master  had  been  restricted  to  two  rooms  and  a 
kitchen  during  the  two  years  he  had  served  him.  Now  they  had  a 
house  to  themselves,  and  more  rooms  than  they  knew  what  to  do  with. 
The  quartermaster  had  sent  a  detail  of  men  to  put  up  the  stoves  and 
move  out  the  rubbish  left  by  the  tailors ;  "  Sam"  had  workal  vigor- 
ously with  soft  soap,  hot  water,  and  a  big  mop  in  sprucing  up  the 
rooms ;  the  adjutant  had  sent  a  little  note  during  the  morning,  saying 
that  the  colonel  would  be  glad  to  order  him  any  men  he  needed  to  put 
the  quarters  in  proper  shape,  and  that  Captain  Rayner  had  expressed 
his  readiness  to  send  a  detail  from  the  company  to  unload  and  unpack 
his  boxes,  etc.,  to  which  Mr.  Playne  replied  in  person  that  he  thanked 
the  commanding  officer  for  his  thoughtfulness,  but  that  he  had  very 
little  to  unpack,  and  needed  no  assistance  beyond  that  already  affiDrded 
by  the  quartermaster's  men.  Mr.  Billings  could  not  help  noting  that 
he  made  no  allusion  to  that  part  of  the  letter  which  spoke  of  Captain 
Rayner's  offer.  It  increased  his  respect  for  Mr.  Hayne's  perceptive 
powers. 

While  every  officer  of  the  infantry  battalion  was  ready  to  admit 
that  Mr.  Hayne  had  rendered  invaluable  service  to  the  men  of  the  cav- 
alry regiment,  they  were  not  so  unanimous  in  their  opinion  as  to  how 
it  should  be  acknowledged  and  requited  by  its  officers.  No  one  was 
prepared  for  the  announcement  that  the  colonel  had  asked  him  to  dinner 
and  that  Blake  and  Billings  were  to  meet  him.  Some  few  of  tlieir 
number  thought  it  going  too  far,  but  no  one  quite  coincided  with  the 
vehement  declaration  of  Mrs.  Rayner  that  it  was  an  outrage  and  an 
affront  aimed  at  the  regiment  in  general  and  at  Captain  Rayner  in  par- 
ticular. She  was  an  energetic  woman  when  aroused,  and  there  was  no 
doubt  of  her  being  very  much  aroused  as  she  sped  from  house  to  house 
to  see  what  the  other  ladies  thought  of  it.  Rayner's  wealth  and  Mrs. 
Rayner's  qualities  had  made  her  an  undoubted  though  not  always  popu- 
lar leader  in  all  social  matters  in  the  Riflers.  She  was  an  authority,  so 
to  spealv,  and  one  who  knew  it.  Already  there  had  been  some  points 
on  which  she  had  differed  with  the  colonel's  wife,  and  it  was  plain  to  all 
that  it  was  a  difficult  thing  for  her  to  come  down  from  being  the  author- 
ity— the  leader  of  the  social  element  of  a  garrison — and  from  the  po- 
sition of  second  or  third  importance  which  she  had  been  accorded  when 
first  assigned  to  the  station.     There  were  many,  indeed,  who  asserted 


732  ^^^  DESERTER. 

that  it  was  because  she  found  her  new  position  unbearable  that  she 
decided  on  her  long  visit  to  the  East  and  departed  thither  before  the 
Riflers  had  been  at  Warrener  a  month.  The  colonel's  wife  had  greeted 
her  and  her  lovely  sister  with  charming  grace  on  their  arrival  two  days 
previous  to  the  stirring  event  of  the  dinner,  and  every  one  was  looking 
forward  to  a  probable  series  of  pleasant  entertainments  by  the  two 
households,  even  Avhile  wondering  how  long  the  entente  cordiale  would 
last, — when  the  colonel's  invitation  to  Mr.  Hayne  brought  on  an  im- 
mediate crisis.  It  is  safe  to  say  that  Mrs.  Rayner  was  madder  than  the 
captain  her  husband,  who  hardly  knew  how  to  take  it.  He  was  by  no 
means  the  best  liked  officer  in  his  regiment,  nor  the  "  deepest"  and  best 
informed,  but  he  had  a  native  shrewdness  which  helped  him.  He  noted 
even  before  his  wife  would  speak  of  it  to  him  the  gradual  dying  out  of 
the  bitter  feeling  that  had  once  existed  at  Hayne's  expense.  He  felt, 
though  it  hurt  him  seriously  to  make  inquiries,  that  the  man  whom 
he  had  practically  crushed  and  ruined  in  the  long  ago  was  slowly  but 
surely  gaining  strength  even  where  he  would  not  make  friends.  Worse 
than  all,  he  was  beginning  to  doubt  the  evidence  of  his  own  senses  as 
the  years  receded,  and  unknown  to  any  soul  on  earth,  even  his  wife, 
there  was  growing  up  deep  down  in  his  heart  a  gnawing,  insidious,  ever- 
festering  fear  that  after  all,  after  all,  he  might  have  been  mistaken. 
And  yet  on  the  sacred  oath  of  a  soldier  and  a  gentleman,  against  the  most 
searching  cross-examination,  again  and  again  had  he  most  confidently  and 
positively  declared  that  he  had  both  seen  and  heard  the  fatal  interview  on 
which  the  whole  case  hinged.  And  as  to  the  exact  language  employed, 
he  alone  of  those  within  earshot  had  lived  to  testify  for  or  against  the  ac- 
cused :  of  the  five  soldiers  who  stood  in  that  now  celebrated  group,  three 
were  shot  to  death  within  the  hour.  He  was  growing  nervous,  irritable, 
haggard  ;  he  was  getting  to  hate  the  mere  mention  of  the  case.  The  pro- 
motion of  Hayne  to  his  own  company  thrilled  him  with  an  almost  super- 
stitious dismay.  Were  his  words  coming  true  ?  Was  it  the  judgment  of 
an  offended  God  that  his  hideous  pride,  obstinacy,  and  old-time  hatred 
of  this  officer  were  now  to  be  revenged  by  daily,  hourly  contact  with  the 
victim  of  his  criminal  persecution  ?  He  had  grown  morbidly  sensitive 
to  any  remarks  as  to  Hayne's  having  "  lived  down"  the  toils  in  which 
he  had  been  encircled.  Might  he  not  "  live  down"  the  ensnarer  ?  He 
dreaded  to  see  him, — though  Rayner  was  no  coward, — and  he  feared 
day  by  day  to  hear  of  his  restoration  to  fellowship  in  the  regiment,  and 
yet  would  have  given  half  his  wealth  to  bring  it  about,  could  it  but  have 
been  accomplished  without  the  dreadful  admission,  "  I  was  wrong.  I 
was  utterly  wrong."  He  had  grown  lavish  in  hospitality ;  he  had -become 
almost  aggressively  open-handed  to  his  comrades,  and  had  sought  to 
press  money  upon  men  who  in  no  wise  needed  it.  He  was  as  eager  to 
lend  as  some  are  to  borrow,  and  his  brother  officers  dubbed  him  "  Mi- 
das" not  because  everything  he  touched  would  turn  to  gold,  but  because 
he  would  intrude  his  gold  upon  them  at  every  turn.  There  were  some 
who  borrowed  ;  and  these  he  struggled  not  to  let  repay.  He  seemed  to 
have  an  insane  idea  that  if  he  could  but  get  his  regimental  friends 
bound  to  him  pecuniarily  he  could  control  their  opinions  and  ac- 
tions.    It  was  making  him  sick  at  heart,  and  it  made  him  in  secret 


THE  DESERTER.  733 

doubly  vindictive  and  bitter  against  the  man  he  had  doomed  to  years 
of  suffering.  This  showed  out  that  very  morning.  Mrs.  Rayner  had 
begun  to  talk,  and  he  turned  fiercely  upon  her : 

"  Not  a  word  on  that  subject,  Kate,  if  you  love  me  ! — not  even  the 
mention  of  his  name !  I  must  have  peace  in  my  own  house.  It  is 
enough  to  have  to  talk  of  it  elsewhere." 

Talk  of  it  he  had  to.  The  major  early  that  morning  asked  him, 
as  they  were  going  to  the  matinee, — 

"  Have  you  seen  Hayne  yet  V 

"Not  since  he  reported  on  the  parade  yesterday,"  was  the  curt 
reply. 

"  Well,  I  suppose  you  will  send  men  to  help  him  get  those  quarters 
in  habitable  shape  ?" 

"  I  will,  of  course,  major,  if  he  ask  it.  I  don't  propose  sending 
men  to  do  such  work  for  an  officer  unless  the  request  come," 

"  He  is  entitled  to  that  consideration,  Rayner,  and  I  think  the  men 
should  be  sent  to  him.     He  is  hardly  likely  to  ask." 

"  Then  he  is  less  likely  to  get  them,"  said  the  captain,  shortly,  for, 
except  the  post  commander,  he  well  knew  that  no  officer  could  order  it 
to  be  done.  He  was  angry  at  the  major  for  interfering.  They  were  old 
associates,  and  had  entered  service  almost  at  the  same  time,  but  his  friend 
had  the  better  luck  in  promotion  and  was  now  his  battalion  commander. 
Rayner  made  an  excuse  of  stopping  to  speak  with  the  officer  of  the 
day,  and  the  major  went  on  without  him.  He  was  a  quiet  old  soldier  : 
he  ^vanted  no  disturbance  with  his  troubled  friend,  and,  like  a  sensible 
man,  he  turned  the  matter  over  to  their  common  superior,  in  a  very 
few  words,  before  the  arrival  of  the  general  audience.  It  was  this  that 
had  caused  the  colonel  to  turn  quietly  to  Rayner  and  say,  in  the  most 
matter-of-fact  way, — 

**  Oh,  Captain  Rayner,  I  presume  Mr.  Hayne  will  need  three  or 
four  men  to  help  him  get  his  quarters  in  shape.  I  suppose  you  have 
already  tliought  to  send  them  ?" 

And  Rayner  flushed,  and  stammered,  "They  have  not  gone  yet, 
sir ;  but  I  had — tliought  of  it." 

Later,  when  the  sergeant  sent  the  required  detail  he  reported  to 
the  captain  in  the  company  office  in  five  minutes :  "  The  lieutenant's 
compliments  and  thanks,  but  he  does  not  need  the  men." 

The  dinner  at  the  colonel's,  quiet  as  it  was  and  with  only  eight  at 
table,  was  an  affair  of  almost  momentous  importance  to  Mr.  Hayne. 
It  was  the  first  thing  of  the  kind  he  had  attended  in  five  years;  and 
though  he  well  know  that  it  was  intended  by  the  cavalry  commander 
more  especially  as  a  recognition  of  the  services  rendered  their  suffering 
men,  he  could  not  but  rejoice  in  the  courtesy  and  tact  with  which  he 
was  received  and  entertained.  The  colonel's  wife,  the  adjutant's,  and 
those  of  two  captains  away  with  the  field  battalion,  were  the  four  ladies 
who  were  there  to  greet  him  when,  escorted  by  Mr.  Blake,  he  made 
his  appearance.  How  long — how  very  long — it  seemed  to  him  since 
he  had  sat  in  the  presence  of  refined  and  attractive  women  and  listened 
to  their  gay  and  animated  chat !  They  seemed  all  such  good  friends, 
they  made  him  so  thoroughly  at  home,  and  they  showed  so  much  tact 


734  THE  DESERTER. 

and  ease,  that  never  once  did  it  seem  apparent  that  they  knew  of  his 
trouble  in  his  own  regiment ;  and  yet  there  was  no  actual  avoidance  of 
matters  in  which  the  Riflers  were  generally  interested.  It  was  mainly 
of  his  brief  visit  to  the  East,  however,  that  they  made  him  talk, — of  the 
operas  and  theatres  he  had  attended,  the  pictures  he  had  seen,  the  music 
that  was  most  popular ;  and  when  dinner  was  over  their  hostess  led 
him  to  her  piano,  and  he  played  and  sang  for  them  again  and  again. 
His  voice  was  soft  and  sweet,  and,  though  it  was  uncultivated,  he  sang 
with  expression  and  grace,  playing  with  more  skill  but  less  feeling  and 
effect  than  he  sang.  Music  and  books  had  been  the  solace  of  lonely 
years,  and  he  could  easily  see  that  he  had  pleased  them  with  his  songs. 
He  went  home  to  the  dreary  rookery  out  on  Prairie  Avenue  and 
laughed  at  the  howling  wind.  The  bare  grimy  walls  and  the  dim 
kerosene  lamp,  even  Sam's  unmelodious  snore  in  the  back  room,  sent 
no  gloom  to  his  soul.  It  had  been  a  happy  evening.  It  had  cost  him 
a  hard  struggle  to  restrain  the  emotion  which  he  had  felt  at  times ; 
and  when  he  withdrew,  soon  after  the  trumpets  sounded  tattoo,  and  the 
ladies  fell  to  discussing  him,  as  women  will,  there  was  but  one  verdict, 
— his  manners  were  perfect. 

But  the  colonel  said  more  than  that.  He  had  found  him  far  better 
read  than  any  other  officer  of  his  age  he  had  ever  met ;  and  one  and  all 
they  expressed  the  hope  that  they  might  see  him  frequently.  No  wonder 
it  was  of  momentous  importance  to  him.  It  was  the  opening  to  a  new 
life.  It  meant  that  here  at  least  he  had  met  soldiers  and  gentlemen 
and  their  fair  and  gracious  wives  who  had  welcomed  him  to  their 
homes,  and,  though  they  must  have  known  that  a  pall  of  suspicion  and 
crime  had  overshadowed  his  past,  they  believed  either  that  he  was 
innocent  of  the  grievous  charge  or  that  his  years  of  exile  and  suffering 
had  amply  atoned.  It  was  a  happy  evening  indeed  to  him ;  but  there 
was  gloom  at  Captain  Rayner's. 

The  captain  himself  had  gone  out  soon  after  tattoo.  He  found  that 
the  parlor  was  filled  with  young  visitors  of  both  sexes,  and  he  was  in 
no  mood  for  merriment.  Miss  Travers  was  being  welcomed  to  the 
post  in  genuine  army  style,  and  was  evidently  enjoying  it.  Mrs. 
Rayner  was  flitting  nervously  in  and  out  of  the  parlor  with  a  cloud 
upon  her  brow,  and  for  once  in  her  life  compelled  to  preserve  temporary 
silence  upon  the  subject  uppermost  in  her  thoughts.  She  had  been 
forbidden  to  speak  of  it  to  her  husband  ;  yet  she  knew  he  had  gone  out 
again  with  every  probability  of  needing  some  one  to  talk  to  about  the 
matter.  She  could  not  well  broach  the  topic  in  the  parlor,  because  she 
was  not  at  all  sure  how  Captain  and  Mrs.  Gregg  of  the  cavalry  would 
take  it ;  and  they  were  still  there.  She  was  a  loyal  wife ;  her  husband's 
quarrel  was  hers,  and  more  too ;  and  she  was  a  woman  of  intuition 
even  keener  than  that  which  we  so  readily  accord  the  sex.  She  knew, 
and  knew  well,  that  a  hideous  doubt  had  been  preying  for  a  long  time 
in  her  husband's  heart  of  heai-ts,  and  she  knew  still  better  that  it  would 
crush  him  to  believe  it  wa."^  even  suspected  by  any  one  else.  Right  or 
wrong,  the  one  thing  for  her  to  do,  she  doubted  not,  was  to  maintain 
the  original  guilt  against  all  comers,  and  to  lose  no  opportunity  of  feed- 
ing the  flame  that  consumed  Mr.  Hayne's  record  and  reputation.     He 


THE  DESERTER.  735 

was  guilty, — he  must  be  guilty  ;  and  though  she  was  a  Christian  accord- 
ing to  her  view  of  the  case, — a  pillar  of  the  Church  in  matters  of  public 
charity  and  picturesque  conformity  to  all  the  rubric  called  for  in  the 
services,  and  much  that  it  did  not, — she  was  unrelenting  in  her  condem- 
nation of  Mr.  Hayne.  To  those  who  pointed  out  that  he  had  made  every 
atonement  man  could  make,  she  responded  with  the  severity  of  conscious 
virtue  that  there  could  be  no  atonement  without  repentance,  and  no 
repentance  without  humility.  Mr.  Hayne's  whole  attitude  was  that  of 
stubborn  pride  and  resentment ;  his  atonement  was  that  enforced  by  the 
unanimous  verdict  of  his  comrades ;  and  even  if  it  were  so  that  he  had 
more  than  made  amends  for  his  crime,  the  rules  that  held  good  for 
ordinary  sinners  were  not  applicable  to  an  officer  of  the  army.  He 
must  be  a  man  above  suspicion,  incapable  of  wrong  or  fraud,  and  once 
stained  he  was  forever  ineligible  as  a  gentleman.  It  was  a  subject  on 
which  she  waxed  declamatory  rather  too  often,  and  the  youngsters  of 
her  own  regiment  wearied  of  it.  As  Mr.  Foster  once  expressed  it  in 
speaking  of  this  very  case,  "  Mrs.  Kayner  can  talk  more  charity  and 
show  less  than  any  woman  I  know."  So  long  as  her  talk  was  aimed 
against  any  lurking  tendency  of  their  own  to  look  upon  Hayne  as  a 
possible  martyr,  it  fell  at  times  on  unappreciative  ears,  and  she  was 
quick  to  see  it  and  to  choose  her  hearers ;  but  here  was  a  new  phase, — 
one  that  might  rouse  the  latent  esprit  de  corps  of  the  Riflers, — and  she 
was  bent  on  striking  while  the  iron  was  hot.  If  anything  would 
provoke  unanimity  of  action  and  sentiment  in  the  regiment,  this  public 
recognition  by  the  cavalry,  in  their  very  presence,  of  the  man  they  cut 
as  a  criminal,  was  the  thing  of  all  others  to  do  it;  and  she  meant  to 
head  the  revolt. 

Possibly  Gregg  and  his  modest  helpmeet  discovered  that  there  was 
something  she  desired  to  "  spring"  upon  the  meeting.  The  others  present 
were  all  of  the  infantry ;  and  when  Captain  Rayner  simply  glanced  in, 
spoke  hurried  good-evenings,  and  went  as  hurriedly  out  again,  Gregg 
was  sure  of  it,  and  marched  his  wife  away.  Then  came  Mrs.  Hayner's 
opportunity : 

"  If  it  were  not  Captain  Rayner's  house,  I  could  not  have  been 
even  civil  to  Captain  Gregg.  You  heard  what  he  said  at  the  club  this 
morning,  I  suppose?" 

In  one  form  or  another,  indeed,  almost  everybody  had  lieard.  The 
officers  present  maintained  an  embarrassed  silence.  Miss  Travers 
looked  reproachfully  at  her  flushed  sister,  but  to  no  purpose.  At  last 
one  of  the  ladies  remarked, — 

"  Well,  of  course  I  heard  of  it,  but — I've  heard  so  many  different 
versions.     It  seems  to  have  grown  somewhat  since  morning." 

"It  sounds  just  like  him,  however,"  said  Mrs.  Rayner,  "and  I 
made  inquiry  before  speaking  of  it.  He  said  he  meant  to  invite  Mr. 
Hayne  to  his  house  to-morrow  evening,  and  if  the  infantry  didn't  like 
it  they  could  stay  away." 

"Well,  now,  Mrs.  Rayner,"  protested  Mr.  Foster,  "of  course 
none  of  us  heard  what  he  said  exactly,  but  it  is  my  experience  that 
no  conversation  was  ever  repeated  without  being  exaggerated,  and  I've 
known  old  Gregg  for  ever  so  long,  and  never  heard  him  say  a  sharp 


736  ^^-S  DESERTER. 

thing  yet.  Why,  he's  the  mildest-mannered  fellow  in  the  whole  — th 
Cavalry.  He  would  never  get  into  such  a  snarl  as  that  would  bring 
about  him  in  five  minutes." 

"Well,  he  said  he  would  do  just  as  the  colonel  did,  anyway, — we 
have  that  straight  from  cavalry  authority, — and  we  all  know  what  the 
colonel  has  done.  He  has  chosen  to  honor  Mr.  Hayne  in  the  presence 
of  the  officers  who  denounce  him,  and  practically  defies  the  opinion  of 
the  Riflers." 

"  But,  Mrs.  Rayner,  I  did  not  understand  Gregg's  remarks  to  be 
what  you  say,  exactly.  Blake  told  me  that  when  asked  by  somebody 
whether  he  was  going  to  call  on  Mr.  Hayne,  Gregg  simply  replied  he 
didn't  know, — he  would  ask  the  colonel." 

"  Very  well.  That  means,  he  proposes  to  be  guided  by  the  colonel, 
or  nothing  at  all ;  and  Captain  Gregg  is  simply  doing  what  the  others 
will  do.  They  say  to  us,  in  so  many  words,  '  We  prefer  the  society  of 
your  bUe  noire  to  your  own.'  That's  the  way  I  look  at  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Rayner,  in  deep  excitement. 

It  was  evident  that,  though  none  were  prepared  to  endorse  so  ex- 
treme a  view,  there  was  a  strong  feeling  that  the  colonel  had  put  an 
affront  upon  the  Riflers  by  his  open  welcome  to  Mr.  Hayne.  He  had 
been  exacting  before,  and  had  caused  a  good  deal  of  growling  among  the 
officers  and  comment  among  the  women.  They  were  ready  to  find 
fault,  and  here  was  strong  provocation.  Mr.  Foster  was  a  youth  of 
unfortunate  and  unpopular  propensities.  He  should  have  held  his 
tongue,  instead  of  striving  to  stem  the  tide. 

"  I  don't  uphold  Hayne  any  more  than  you  do,  Mrs.  Rayner,  but 
it  seems  to  me  this  is  a  case  where  the  colonel  has  to  make  some  ac- 
knowledgment of  Mr.  Hayne's  conduct " 

"  Very  good.  Let  him  write  him  a  letter,  then,  thanking  him  in 
the  name  of  the  regiment,  but  don't  pick  him  up  like  this  in  the  face 
of  ours,"  interrupted  one  of  the  juniors,  who  was  seated  near  Miss 
Travers  (a  wise  stroke  of  policy :  Mrs.  Rayner  invited  him  to  break- 
fast) ;  and  there  was  a  chorus  of  approbation. 

"  Well,  hold  on  a  moment,"  said  Foster.  "  Hasn't  the  colonel  had 
every  one  of  us  to  dinner  more  or  less  frequently  ?" 

"  Admitted.     But  what's  that  to  do  with  it  ?" 

"  Hasn't  he  invariably  invited  each  officer  to  dine  with  him  in  every 
case  where  an  officer  has  arrived  ?" 

"  Granted.     But  what  then  ?" 

"If  he  broke  the  rule  or  precedent  in  Mr.  Hayne's  case  would 
he  not  practically  be  saying  that  he  endorsed  the  views  of  the  court- 
martial  as  opposed  to  those  of  the  department  commander.  General 
Sherman,  the  Secretary  of  War,  the  President  of  the  United " 

"  Oh,  make  out  your  transfer  papers,  Foster.  You  ought  to  be  in 
the  cavalry  or  some  other  disputatious  branch  of  the  service,"  burst  in 
Mr.  Graham. 

"  I  declare,  Mr.  Foster,  I  never  thought  you  would  abandon  your 
colors,"  said  Mrs.  Rayner. 

"  I  haven't,  madarae,  and  you've  no  right  to  say  so,"  said  Foster,  in- 
dignantly.    "  I  simply  hold  that  any  attempt  to  work  up  a  regimental 


THE  DESERTER.  737 

row  out  of  this  thing  will  make  bad  infinitely  worse,  and  I  deprecate 
the  whole  business." 

"  I  suppose  you  mean  to  intimate  that  Captain  Rayner's  position 
and  that  of  the  regiment  Is  bad, — all  wrong, — that  Mr.  Hayne  has 
been  persecuted/'  said  Mrs.  Rayner,  with  trembling  lips  and  cheeks 
aflame. 

"  Mrs.  Rayner,  you  are  unjust,"  said  poor  Foster.  "  I  ought  not 
to  have  undertaken  to  explain  or  defend  the  colonel's  act,  perhaps,  but 
I  am  not  disloyal  to  my  regiment  or  my  colors.  What  I  want  Is  to 
prevent  further  trouble;  and  I  know  that  anything  like  a  concerted 
resentment  of  the  colonel's  Invitation  will  lead  to  Infinite  harm." 

"  You  may  cringe  and  bow  and  bear  It  If  you  choose ;  you  may 
humble  yourself  to  such  a  piece  of  Insolence ;  but  rest  assured  there  are 
plenty  of  men  and  women  in  the  Riflers  who  won't  bear  It,  Mr.  Foster ; 
and  for  one  I  won't."  She  had  risen  to  her  full  heio-ht  now,  and  her 
eyes  were  blazing.  "  For  his  own  sake  I  trust  the  colonel  will  omit 
our  names  from  the  next  entertainment  he  gives.     Nellie  shan't " 

"  Oh,  think,  Mrs.  Rayner  !"  Interrupted  one  of  the  ladies ;  "  they 
miLst  give  her  a  dinner  or  a  reception." 

"  Indeed  they  shall  not !  I  refuse  to  enter  the  door  of  people  who 
have  insulted  my  husband  as  they  have." 

"  Hush  !     Listen  !"  said  Mr.  Graham,  springing  towards  the  door. 

There  was  wondering  silence  an  Instant. 

"  It  is  nothing  but  the  trumpet  sounding  taps,"  said  Mrs.  Rayner, 
hurriedly. 

But  even  as  she  spoke  they  rose  to  their  feet.  INIuffled  cries  were 
heard,  borne  In  on  the  night  wind, — a  shot,  then  another,  down  In  the 
valley, — the  quick  peal  of  the  cavalry  trumpet. 

"  It  Isn't  taps.  It's  fire  !"  shouted  Graham  from  the  door-way. 
"  Come  on  !" 

V. 

Down  in  the  valley  south  of  the  post  a  broad  glare  was  already 
shooting  upward  and  Illumining  the  sky.  One  among  a  dozen  little 
shanties  and  log  houses,  the  homes  of  the  laundresses  of  the  garrison 
and  collectively  known  as  Sudsvllle,  was  a  mass  of  flames.  There  was 
a  rush  of  officers  across  the  parade,  and  the  men,  answering  the  alarum 
of  the  trumpet  and  the  shots  and  shouts  of  the  sentries,  came  tearing 
from  their  quarters  and  plunging  down  the  hill.  Among  the  first  on 
the  spot  came  the  young  men  who  were  of  the  party  at  Captain  Ray- 
ner's,  and  Mr.  Graham  was  ahead  of  them  all.  It  was  plain  to  the 
most  inexperienced  eye  that  there  was  hardly  anything  left  to  save  In 
or  about  the  burning  shanty.  All  efforts  must  be  directed  towards  pre- 
venting the  spread  of  the  flames  to  those  adjoining.  Half-clad  women 
and  children  were  rushing  about,  shrieking  with  fright  and  excitement, 
and  a  few  men  were  engaged  In  dragging  household  goods  and  furniture 
from  those  tenements  not  yet  reached  by  the  flames.  Fire-apparatus 
there  seemed  to  be  none,  though  squads  of  men  speedily  appeared  with 
ladders,  axes,  and  buckets,  brought  from  the  different  company  quarters, 
and  the  arriving  officers  quickly  formed  the  bucket-lines  and  water 


738  TEE  DESERTER. 

dipped  up  from  the  icy  creek  began  to  fly  from  hand  to  hand.  Before 
anything  like  this  was  fairly  under  way,  a  scene  of  semi-tragic,  semi- 
comic  intensity  had  been  enacted  in  the  presence  of  a  rapidly  gathering 
audience.  "  It  was  worth  more  than  the  price  of  admission  to  hear 
Blake  tell  it  afterwards,"  said  the  officers,  later. 

A  tall,  angular  woman,  frantic  with  excitement  and  terror,  was 
dancing  about  in  the  broad  glare  of  the  burning  hut,  tearing  her  hair, 
making  wild  rushes  at  the  flames  from  time  to  time  as  though  intent  on 
dragging  out  some  prized  object  that  was  being  consumed  before  her 
eyes,  and  all  the  time  keeping  up  a  volley  of  maledictions  and  abuse  in 
lavish  Hibernian,  apparently  directed  at  a  cowering  object  who  sat  in 
limp  helplessness  upon  a  little  heap  of  fire-wood,  swaying  from  side  to 
side  and  moaning  stupidly  through  the  scorched  and  grimy  hands  in 
which  his  face  was  hidden.  His  clothing  was  still  smoking  in  places  ; 
his  hair  and  beard  were  singed  to  the  roots ;  he  was  evidently  seriously 
injured,  and  the  sympathizing  soldiers  who  had  gathered  around  him 
after  deluging  him  with  snow  and  water  were  striving  to  get  him  to 
arise  and  go  with  them  to  the  hospital.  A  little  girl,  not  ten  years 
old,  knelt  sobbing  and  terrified  by  his  side.  She,  too,  was  scorched  and 
singed,  and  the  soldiers  had  thrown  rough  blankets  about  her ;  but  it 
was  for  her  father,  not  herself,  she  seemed  worried  to  distraction.  Some 
of  the  women  were  striving  to  reassure  and  comfort  her  in  their  homely 
fashion,  bidding  her  cheer  up, — the  father  was  only  stupid  from  drink, 
and  would  be  all  right  as  soon  as  "  the  liquor  was  off  of  him."  But 
the  little  one  was  beyond  consolation  so  long  as  he  could  not  or  would 
not  speak  in  answer  to  her  entreaties. 

All  this  time,  never  pausing  for  breiith,  shrieking  anathemas  on  her 
drunken  spouse,  reproaches  on  her  frightened  child,  and  invocations  to 
all  the  blessed  saints  in  heaven  to  reward  the  gintleman  who  had  saved 
her  hoarded  money, — a  smoking  packet  that  she  hugged  to  her  breast, 
— Mrs.  Clancy,  "the  saynior  laundress  of  Company  B,"  as  she  had 
long  styled  herself,  was  prancing  up  and  down  through  the  gathering 
crowd,  her  shrill  voice  overmastering  all  other  clamor.  The  vigorous 
efforts  of  the  men,  directed  by  cool-headed  officers,  soon  beat  back  the 
flames  that  were  threatening  the  neighboring  shanties,  and  levelled  to 
the  ground  what  remained  of  Private  Clancy's  home.  The  fire  was 
extinguished  almost  as  rapidly  as  it  began,  but  the  torrent  of  Mrs. 
Clancy's  eloquence  was  still  unstemmed.  The  adjurations  of  sympa- 
thetic sisters  to  "  Howld  yer  whist,"  the  authoritative  admonition  of 
some  old  sergeant  to  "  Stop  your  infernal  noise,"  and  the  half-maudlin 
yet  appealing  glances  of  her  suffering  lord  were  all  insufficient  to  check 
her.  It  was  not  until  the  quiet  tones  of  the  colonel  were  heard  that  she 
began  to  cool  down  :  "  We've  had  enough  of  this,  Mrs.  Clancy  :  be  still, 
now,  or  we'll  have  to  send  you  to  the  hospital  in  the  coal-cart."  Mrs, 
Clancy  knew  that  the  colonel  was  a  man  of  few  words,  and  believed  him 
to  be  one  of  less  sentiment.  She  was  afraid  of  him,  and  concluded  it 
time  to  cease  threats  and  abuse  and  come  down  to  the  more  effective  rdle 
of  wronged  and  suffering  womanhood, — a  feat  M'hicli  she  accomplished 
with  the  consummate  ease  of  long  practice,  for  the  rows  in  the  Clancy 
household  were  matters  of  garrison  notoriety.     The  surgeon,  too,  had 


THE  DESERTER.  739 

come,  and,  after  quick  examination  of  Clancy's  condition,  had  directed 
him  to  be  taken  at  once  to  the  hospital ;  and  thither  his  little  daughter 
insisted  on  following  him,  despite  the  efforts  of  some  of  the  women  to 
detain  her  and  dress  her  properly. 

Before  returning  to  his  quarters  the  colonel  desired  to  know  some- 
thing of  the  origin  of  the  fire.  There  was  testimony  enough  and  to 
spare.  Every  woman  in  Sudsville  had  a  theory  to  express,  and  was 
eager  to  be  heard  at  once  and  to  the  exclusion  of  all  others.  It  was 
not  until  he  had  summarily  ordered  them  to  go  to  their  homes  and  not 
come  near  him  that  the  colonel  managed  to  get  a  clear  statement  from 
some  of  the  men. 

Clancy  had  been  away  all  the  evening,  drinking  as  usual,  and  Mrs. 
Clancy  was  searching  about  Sudsville  as  much  for  sympathy  and 
listeners  as  for  him.  Little  Kate,  who  knew  her  father's  haunts,  had 
guided  him  home,  and  was  striving  to  get  him  to  his  little  sleeping- 
corner  before  her  mother's  return,  when  in  his  drunken  helplessness  he 
fell  against  the  table,  overturning  the  kerosene  lamp,  and  the  curtains 
were  all  aflame  in  an  instant.  It  was  just  after  taps — or  ten  o'clock — 
when  Kate's  shrieks  aroused  the  inmates  of  Sudsville  and  started  the 
cry  of  "  Fire."  The  flimsy  structure  of  pine  boards  burned  like  so 
much  tinder,  and  the  child  and  her  stupefied  father  had  been  dragged 
forth  only  in  time  to  save  their  lives.  The  little  one,  after  giving  the 
alarm,  had  rushed  again  into  the  house  and  was  tugging  at  his  senseless 
form  when  rescue  came  for  both, — none  too  soon.  As  for  Mrs.  Clancy, 
at  the  first  note  of  danger  she  had  rushed  screaming  to  the  spot,  but 
only  in  time  to  see  the  whole  interior  ablaze  and  to  howl  frantically 
for  some  man  to  save  her  money, — it  was  all  in  the  green  box  under 
the  bed.  For  husband  and  child  she  had  for  the  moment  no  thought. 
They  were  safely  out  of  the  fire  by  the  time  she  got  there,  and  she 
screamed  and  fought  like  a  fury  against  the  men  who  held  her  back 
when  she  would  have  plunged  into  the  midst  of  it.  It  took  but  a 
minute  for  one  or  two  men  to  burst  through  the  flimsy  wall  with  axes, 
to  rescue  the  burning  box  and  knock  off  the  lid.  It  M'as  a  sight  to  see 
when  the  contents  were  handed  to  her.  She  knelt,  wept,  prayed,  counted 
over  bill  after  bill  of  smoking,  steaming  gi-eenbacks,  until  suddenly 
recalled  to  her  senses  by  the  eager  curiosity  and  the  remarks  of  some 
of  her  fellow-women.  That  she  kept  money  and  a  good  deal  of  it  in 
her  quarters  had  long  been  suspected  and  as  fiercely  denied ;  but  no 
one  had  dreamed  of  such  a  sum  as  was  revealed.  In  her  frenzy  she 
had  shrieked  that  the  savings  of  her  lifetime  were  burning, — that 
there  was  over  three  thousand  dollars  in  the  box ;  but  she  hid  her 
treasure  and  gasped  and  stammered  and  SAvore  she  was  talking  "  wild- 
like." "  They  was  nothing  but  twos  and  wans,"  she  vowed  ;  yet  there 
were  women  there  who  declared  that  they  had  seen  tens  and  twenties  as 
she  hurried  them  through  her  trembling  fingers,  and  Sudsville  gossiped 
and  talked  for  two  hours  after  she  was  led  away,  still  moaning  and 
shivering,  to  the  bedside  of  poor  Clancy,  who  was  the  miserable  cause 
of  it  all.  The  colonel  listened  to  the  stories  with  such  patience  as  could 
be  accorded  to  witnesses  who  desired  to  give  prominence  to  their  per- 
sonal exploits  in  subduing  the  flames  and  rescuing  life  and  property. 


740  THE  DESERTER. 

It  was  not  until  he  and  the  group  of  officers  with  him  had  been  en- 
gaged some  moments  in  taking  testimony  that  something  was  elicited 
which  caused  a  new  sensation. 

It  was  not  by  the  united  efforts  of  Sudsville  that  Clancy  and  Kate 
had  been  dragged  from  the  flames,  but  by  the  individual  dash  and  de- 
termination of  a  single  man :  there  was  no  discrepancy  here,  for  the 
ten  or  a  dozen  who  were  wildly  rushing  about  the  house  made  no  effort 
to  burst  into  it  until  a  young  soldier  leaped  through  their  midst  into 
the  blazing  door-way,  was  seen  to  throw  a  blanket  over  some  object 
within,  and  the  next  minute  appeared  again,  dragging  a  body  through 
the  flames.  Then  they  had  sprung  to  his  aid,  and  between  them  Kate 
and  "  the  ould  man"  were  lifted  into  the  open  air.  A  moment  later  he 
had  handed  Mrs.  Clancy  her  packet  of  money,  and — they  hadn't  seen 
him  since.  He  was  an  officer,  said  they, — a  new  one.  They  thought 
it  must  be  the  new  lieutenant  of  Company  B ;  and  the  colonel  looked 
quickly  around  and  said  a  few  words  to  his  adjutant,  who  started  up 
the  hill  forthwith.  A  group  of  officers  and  ladies  were  standing  at  the 
brow  of  the  plateau  east  of  the  guard-house,  gazing  down  upon  the 
scene  below,  and  other  ladies,  with  their  escorts,  had  gathered  on  a  little 
knoll  close  by  the  road  that  led  to  Prairie  Avenue.  It  was  past  these 
that  the  adjutant  walked  rapidly  away,  swinging  his  hurricane-lamp  in 
his  hand. 

"  Which  way  now,  Billings  ?"  called  one  of  the  cavalry  officers  in 
the  group. 

"  Over  to  Mr.  Hayne's  quarters,"  he  shouted  back,  never  stopping 
at  all. 

A  silence  fell  upon  the  group  at  mention  of  the  name.  They  were 
the  ladies  from  Captain  Rayner's  and  a  few  of  their  immediate  friends. 
All  eyes  followed  the  twinkling  light  as  it  danced  away  eastward  towards 
the  gloomy  coal-sheds.  Then  there  was  sudden  and  intense  interest. 
The  lamp  had  come  to  a  stand-still,  was  deposited  on  the  ground,  and 
by  its  dim  ray  the  adjutant  could  be  seen  bending  over  a  dark  object 
that  was  half  sitting,  half  reclining  at  the  platform  of  the  shed.  Then 
came  a  shout,  "  Come  here,  some  of  you."  And  most  of  the  men  ran 
to  the  spot. 

For  a  moment  not  one  word  was  spoken  in  the  watching  group : 
then  Miss  Travers's  voice  was  heard  : 

"  What  can  it  be  ?     Why  do  they  stop  there  ?" 

She  felt  a  sudden  hand  upon  her  wrist,  and  her  sister's  lips  at  her 
ear: 

"  Come  away,  Nellie.     I  want  to  go  home.     Come  !" 

"  But,  Kate,  I  must  see  what  it  means." 

"  No  :  come !  It's — it's  only  some  other  drunken  man,  probably. 
Come  !"     And  she  strove  to  lead  her. 

But  the  other  ladies  were  curious  too,  and  all,  insensibl)'',  were  edging 
over  to  the  east  as  though  eager  to  get  in  sight  of  the  group.  The  re- 
cumbent object  had  been  raised,  and  was  seen  to  be  the  dark  figure  of  a 
man  whom  the  others  began  slowly  to  lead  away.  One  of  the  group 
came  running  back  to  them  :  it  was  Mr.  Foster. 

"  Come,  ladies :  I  will  escort  you  home,  as  the  others  are  busy." 


THE  DESERTER.  741 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Mr.  Foster  ?"  was  asked  by  half  a  dozen 
voices. 

"  It  was  Mr.  Hayne, — badly  burned,  I  fear.  He  was  trying  to  get 
home  after  having  saved  poor  Clancy." 

"  You  don't  say  so !  Oh,  isn't  there  something  we  can  do  ?  Can't 
we  go  that  way  and  be  of  some  help  ?"  was  the  eager  petition  of  more 
than  one  of  the  ladies. 

"  Not  now.  They  will  have  the  doctor  in  a  minute.  He  has  not 
inhaled  flame ;  it  is  all  external ;  but  he  was  partly  blinded  and  could 
not  find  his  way.  He  called  to  Billings  when  he  heard  him  coming. 
I  will  get  you  all  home  and  then  go  back  to  him.  Come!"  And, 
offering  his  arm  to  Mrs.  Rayner,  who  was  foremost  in  the  direction  he 
wanted  to  go, — the  pathway  across  the  parade, — Mr.  Foster  led  them 
on.  Of  course  there  was  eager  talk  and  voluble  sympathy ;  but  Mrs. 
Rayner  spoke  not  a  word.  The  others  crowded  around  him  with 
questions,  and  her  silence  passed  unnoted  except  by  one. 

The  moment  they  ^vere  inside  the  door  and  alone,  Miss  Travers 
turned  to  her  sister  :  "  Kate,  what  was  this  man's  crime  ? 

VI. 

An  unusual  state  of  affairs  existed  at  the  big  hospital  for  several 
days :  Mrs.  Clancy  had  refused  to  leave  the  bedside  of  her  beloved 
Mike,  and  was  permitted  to  remain.  For  a  woman  who  was  notorious 
as  a  virago  and  bully,  who  had  beaten  little  Kate  from  her  babyhood 
and  abused  and  hammered  her  Michael  until,  between  her  and  drink, 
he  was  but  the  wreck  of  a  stalwart  manhood,  Mrs.  Clancy  had  de- 
veloped a  degree  of  devotion  that  was  utterly  unexpected.  In  all  the 
dozen  years  of  their  marital  relations  no  such  trait  could  be  recalled ; 
and  yet  there  had  been  many  an  occasion  within  the  past  few  years  when 
Clancy's  condition  demanded  gentle  nursing  and  close  attention, — and 
never  would  have  got  it  but  for  faithful  little  Kate.  The  child  idolized 
the  broken-down  man,  and  loved  him  with  a  tenderness  that  his  weak- 
ness seemed  but  to  augment  a  thousandfold,  while  it  but  served  to  in- 
furiate her  mother.  In  former  years,  when  he  was  Sergeant  Clancy 
and  a  fine  soldier,  many  was  the  time  he  had  intervened  to  save  her 
from  an  undeserved  thrashing ;  many  a  time  had  he  seized  her  in  his 
strong  arms  and  confronted  the  furious  woman  with  stern  reproof. 
Between  him  and  the  child  there  had  been  the  tenderest  love,  for  she 
was  all  that  was  left  to  him  of  four.  In  the  old  days  Mrs.  Clancy  had 
been  the  belle  of  the  soldiers'  balls,  a  fine-looking  woman,  with  indom- 
itable powers  as  a  dancer  and  conversationalist  and  an  envied  repu- 
tation for  outshining  all  her  rivals  in  dress  and  adornment.  "  She 
would  ruin  Clancy,  that  she  would,"  was  the  unanimous  opinion  of  the 
soldiers'  wives ;  but  he  seemed  to  minister  to  her  extravagance  with 
unfailing  good  nature  for  two  or  three  years.  He  had  been  prudent, 
careful  of  his  money,  was  a  war-soldier  with  big  arrears  of  bounty  and, 
tradition  had  it,  a  consummate  skill  in  poker.  He  was  the  moneyed 
man  among  the  sergeants  when  the  dashing  relict  of  a  brother  non- 
commissioned officer  set  her  widow's  cap  for  him  and  won.     It  did 


742  THE  DESERTER. 

not  take  many  years  for  her  to  wheedle  most  of  his  money  away ;  but 
there  was  no  cessation  to  the  demand,  no  apparent  limit  to  the  supply. 
Both  were  growing  older,  and  now  it  became  evident  that  Mrs.  Clancy 
was  the  elder  of  the  two,  and  that  the  artificiality  of  her  charms  could 
not  stand  the  test  of  frontier  life.  No  longer  sought  as  the  belle  of  the 
soldiers'  ball-rooms,  she  aspired  to  leadership  among  their  wives  and 
families,  and  was  accorded  that  pre-eminence  rather  than  the  fierce 
battle  which  was  sure  to  follow  any  revolt.  She  became  avaricious, — 
some  said  miserly,— and  Clancy  miserable.  Then  began  the  down- 
"U'ard  course.  He  took  to  drink  soon  after  his  return  from  a  long,  hard 
summer's  campaign  with  the  Indians.  He  lost  his  sergeant's  stripes 
and  went  into  the  ranks.  There  came  a  time  when  the  new  colonel 
forbade  his  re-enlistment  in  the  cavalry  regiment  in  which  he  had 
served  so  many  a  long  year.  He  had  been  a  brave  and  devoted  soldier. 
He  had  a  good  friend  in  the  infantry,  he  said,  who  wouldn't  go  back 
on  a  poor  fellow  who  took  a  drop  too  much  at  times,  and,  to  the  sur- 
prise of  many  soldiers, — officers  and  men, — he  was  brought  to  the  re- 
cruiting officer  one  day,  sober,  soldierly,  and  trimly  dressed,  and  Cap- 
tain Rayner  expressed  his  desire  to  have  him  enlisted  for  his  company ; 
and  it  was  done.  Mrs.  Clancy  was  accorded  the  quarters  and  rations 
of  a  laundress,  as  was  then  the  custom,  and  for  a  time — a  very  short 
time — Clancy  seemed  on  the  road  to  promotion  to  his  old  grade.  The 
enemy  tripped  him,  aided  by  the  scoldings  and  abuse  of  his  wife,  and 
he  never  rallied.  Some  work  was  found  for  him  around  the  quarter- 
master's shops  which  saved  him  from  guard-duty  or  the  guard-house. 
The  infantry — officers  and  men — seemed  to  feel  for  the  poor,  broken- 
down  old  fellow  and  to  lay  much  of  his  woe  to  the  door  of  his  wife. 
There  was  charity  for  his  faults  and  sympathy  for  his  sorrows,  but  at 
last  it  had  come  to  this.  He  was  lying,  sorely  injured,  in  the  hospital, 
and  there  were  times  when  he  was  apparently  delirious.  At  such 
times,  said  Mrs.  Clancy,  she  alone  could  manage  him ;  and  she  urged 
that  no  other  nurse  could  do  more  than  excite  or  irritate  him.  To  the 
unspeakable  grief  of  little  Kate,  she,  too,  was  driven  from  the  sufferer's 
bedside  and  forbidden  to  come  into  the  room  except  when  her  mother 
gave  permission.  Clancy  had  originally  been  carried  into  the  general 
ward  with  the  other  patients,  but  the  hospital  steward  two  days  after- 
wards told  the  surgeon  that  the  patient  moaned  and  cried  so  at  night 
that  the  other  sick  men  could  not  sleep,  and  offered  to  give  up  a  little 
room  in  his  own  part  of  the  building.  The  burly  doctor  looked  sur- 
prised at  this  concession  on  the  part  of  the  steward,  who  was  a  man 
tenacious  of  every  perquisite  and  one  who  had  made  much  complaint 
about  the  crowded  condition  of  the  hospital  wards  and  small  rooms 
ever  since  the  frozen  soldiers  had  come  in.  All  the  same  the  doctor 
asked  for  no  explanation,  but  gladly  availed  himself  of  the  steward's 
offer.  Clancy  was  moved  to  this  little  room  adjoining  the  steward's 
quarters  forthwith,  and  Mrs.  Clancy  was  satisfied. 

Another  thing  had  happened  to  excite  remark  and  a  good  deal  of  it. 
Nothing  short  of  eternal  damnation  was  Mrs.  Clancy's  frantic  sentence 
on  the  head  of  her  unlucky  spouse  the  night  of  the  fire,  when  she  was 
the  central  figure  of  the  picture  and  when  hundreds  of  witnesses  to  her 


THE  DESERTER.  743 

words  were  grouped  around.  Correspondingly  had  she  called  down  the 
blessings  of  the  Holy  Virgin  and  all  the  saints  upon  the  man  who  res- 
cued and  returned  to  her  that  precious  packet  of  money.  Everybody 
heard  her,  and  it  was  out  of  the  question  for  her  to  retract.  Neverthe- 
less, from  within  an  hour  after  Clancy's  admission  to  the  hospital  not 
another  word  of  the  kind  escaped  her  lips.  She  was  all  patience  and 
pity  with  the  injured  man,  and  she  shunned  all  allusion  to  his  pre- 
server and  her  benefactor.  The  surgeon  had  been  called  away,  after 
doing  all  in  his  power  to  make  Clancy  comfortable, — he  was  needed 
elsewhere, — and  only  two  or  three  soldiers  and  a  hospital  nurse  still 
remained  by  his  bedside,  where  Mrs.  Clancy  and  little  Kate  were  dry- 
ing their  tears  and  receiving  consolation  from  the  steward's  wife.  The 
doctor  had  mentioned  a  name  as  he  went  away,  and  it  was  seen  that 
Clancy  was  striving  to  ask  a  question.     Sergeant  Nolan  bent  down  : 

"  Lie  quiet,  Clancy,  me  boy  :  you  must  be  quiet,  or  you'll  move  the 
bandages." 

"  Who  did  he  say  was  burned?  who  was  he  going  to  see?"  gasped 
the  sufferer. 

"  The  new  lieutenant,  Clancy, — hira  that  pulled  ye  out.  He's  a 
good  one,  and  it's  Mrs.  Clancy  that'll  tell  ye  the  same." 

"Tell  hira  what?"  said  she,  turning  about  in  sudden  interest. 

"About  the  lieutenant's  pulling  him  out  of  the  fire  and  saving  your 
money." 

"  Indeed  yes  !  The  blessings  of  all  the  saints  be  upon  his  beautiful 
head,  and " 

"But  who  was  it?  What  was  his  name,  I  say?"  vehemently  inter- 
rupted Clancy,  half  raising  himself  upon  his  elbow,  and  groaning  with 
the  effort.     "  AVhat  was  his  name  ?     I  didn't  see  him." 

"  Lieutenant  Hayne,  man." 

"  Oh,  my  God  !"  gasped  Clancy,  and  fell  back  as  though  struck  a 
sudden  blow. 

She  sprang  to  his  side  :  "  It's  faint  he  is.  Don't  answer  his  ques- 
tions, sergeant!  He's  beside  himself !  Oh,  will  ye  never  stop  talking 
to  him  and  lave  him  in  pace  ?     Go  away,  all  of  ye's, — go  away,  I  say, 

or  ye'U  dhrive  him  crazy  wid  yer Be  quiet,  Mike  !  don't  ye  spake 

agin."  And  she  laid  a  broad  red  hand  upon  his  face.  He  only  groaned 
again,  and  threw  his  one  unbandaged  arm  across  his  darkened  eyes,  as 
though  to  hide  from  sight  of  all. 

From  that  time  on  she  made  no  mention  of  the  name  that  so 
strangely  excited  her  stricken  husband ;  but  the  watchers  in  the  hos- 
pital the  next  night  declared  that  in  his  ravings  Clancy  kept  calling  for 
Lieutenant  Hayne. 

Stannard's  battalion  of  the  cavalry  came  marching  into  the  post  two 
days  after  the  fire,  and  created  a  diversion  in  the  garrison  talk,  which 
for  one  long  day  had  been  all  of  that  dramatic  incident  and  its  attend- 
ant circumstances.  In  social  circles,  among  the  officers  and  ladies,  the 
main  topic  was  the  conduct  of  Mr.  Hayne  and  the  injuries  he  had  sus- 
tained as  a  consequence  of  his  gallant  rescue.  Among  the  enlisted  men 
and  4:he  denizens  of  Sudsville  the  talk  was  principally  of  the  revelation 
of  Mrs.  Clancy's  hoard  of  greenbacks.     But  in  both  circles  a  singular 


744  THE  DESERTER. 

story  was  just  beginning  to  creep  around,  and  it  was  to  the  eifect  that 
Clancy  had  cried  aloud  and  fainted  dead  away  and  that  Mrs.  Clancy 
had  gone  into  hysterics  when  they  were  told  that  Lieutenant  Hayne 
was  the  man  to  whom  the  one  owed  his  life  and  the  other  her  money. 
Some  one  met  Captain  Rayner  on  the  sidewalk  the  morning  Stannard 
came  marching  home,  and  asked  him  if  he  had  heard  the  queer  story 
about  Clancy.  He  had  not,  and  it  was  told  him  then  and  there.  Ray- 
ner  did  not  even  attempt  to  laugh  at  it  or  turn  it  off  in  any  way.  He 
looked  dazed,  stunned,  for  a  moment,  turned  very  white  and  old-looking, 
and,  hardly  saying  good-day  to  his  informant,  faced  about  and  went 
straight  to  his  quarters.  He  was  not  among  the  crowd  that  gathered  to 
welcome  the  incoming  cavalrymen  that  bright,  crisp,  winter  day;  and 
that  evening  Mrs,  Rayner  went  to  the  hospital  to  ask  what  she  could  do 
for  Clancy  and  his  wife.  Captain  Rayner  always  expected  her  to  see 
that  every  care  and  attention  was  paid  to  the  sick  and  needy  of  his 
company,  she  explained  to  the  doctor,  who  could  not  recall  having 
seen  her  on  a  similar  errand  before,  altliough  sick  and  needy  of  Com- 
pany B  were  not  unknown  in  garrisons  where  he  had  served  with  them. 
She  spent  a  good  while  with  Mrs.  Clancy,  whom  she  had  never  noticed 
hitherto,  much  to  the  laundress's  indignation,  and  concerning  whose 
conduct  she  had  been  known  to  express  herself  in  terms  of  extreme  dis- 
approbation. But  in  times  of  suffering  such  things  are  forgotten  :  Mrs. 
Rayner  was  full  of  sympathy  and  interest ;  there  was  nothing  she  was 
not  eager  to  send  them,  and  no  thanks  were  necessary.  She  could  never 
do  too  much  for  the  men  of  her  husband's  company. 

Yet  there  was  a  member  of  her  husband's  company  on  whom  in 
his  suffering  neither  she  nor  the  captain  saw  fit  to  call.  Mr.  Hayne's 
eyes  were  seriously  injured  by  the  flames  and  heat,  and  he  was  now 
living  in  darkness.  It  might  be  a  month,  said  the  doctor,  before  he 
could  use  his  eyes  again. 

"  Only  think  of  that  poor  fellow,  all  alone  out  there  on  that  ghastly 
prairie  and  unable  to  read  !"  was  the  exclamation  of  one  of  the  cavalry 
ladies  in  Mrs.  Rayner's  presence ;  and,  as  there  was  an  awkward  silence 
and  somebody  had  to  break  it,  Mrs.  Rayner  responded, — 

"■  If  I  lived  on  Prairie  Avenue  I  should  consider  blindness  a 
blessing." 

It  was  an  unfortunate  remark.  Tliere  was  strong  sympathy  develop- 
ing for  Hayne  all  through  the  garrison.  Mrs.  Rayner  never  meant  that 
it  should  have  any  such  significance,  but  inside  of  twenty-four  hours, 
in  course  of  which  her  language  had  been  repeated  some  dozens  of  times 
and  distorted  quite  as  many,  the  generally  accepted  version  of  the  story 
was  that  Mrs.  Rayner,  so  far  from  expressing  the  faintest  sympathy  or 
sorrow  for  Mr.  Hayne's  misfortune,  so  far  from  expressing  the  natural 
gratification  which  a  lady  should  feel  that  it  was  an  officer  of  her  regi- 
ment who  had  reached  the  scene  of  danger  ahead  of  the  cavalry  officer 
of  the  guard,  had  said  in  so  many  words  that  Mr.  Hayne  ought  to  be 
thankful  that  blindness  was  the  worst  thing  that  had  come  to  him. 

There  was  little  chance  for  harmony  after  that.  Many  men  and 
some  women,  of  course,  refused  to  believe  it,  and  said  they  felt  confident 
that  she  had  been  misrepresented.   Still,  all  knew  by  this  time  that  Mrs. 


THE  DESERTER.  745 

E.ayner  was  bitter  against  Hayne,  and  had  heard  of  her  denunciation  of 

the  colonel's  action.  So,  too,  had  the  colonel  heard  that  she  openly  de- 
clared that  she  would  refuse  any  invitation  extended  to  her  or  to  her 
sister  which  might  involve  her  accepting  hospitality  at  his  house.  These 
things  do  get  around  in  most  astonishing  ways. 

Then  another  complication  arose :  Hayne,  too,  was  mixing  matters. 
The  major  commanding  the  battalion,  a  man  in  no  wise  connected  with 
his  misfortunes,  had  gone  to  him  and  urged,  with  the  doctor's  full  con- 
sent, that  he  should  be  moved  over  into  and  become  an  inmate  of  his 
household  in  garrison.    He  had  a  big,  roomy  house.    His  wife  earnestly 
added  her  entreaties  to  the  major's,  but  all  to  no  purpose :  ^Ir.  Hayne 
firmly  declined.     He  thanked  the  major;  he  rose  and  bent  over  the 
lady's  hand  and  thanked  her  with  a  voice  that  was  full  of  gentleness 
and  gratitude ;    but  he  said  that  he  had  learned  to  live  in  solitude. 
Sam  was  accustomed  to  all  his  ways,  and  he  had  every  comfort  he  needed. 
His  wants  were  few  and  simple.     She  would  not  be  content,  and  urged 
him  further.     He  loved  reading :  surely  he  would  miss  his  books  and 
would  need  some  one  to  read  aloud  to  him,  and  there  were  so  many 
ladies  in  the  garrison  who  would  be  glad  to  meet  at  her  house  and 
read  to  him  by  turns.     He  loved  music,  she  heard,  and  there  was  her 
piano,  and  she  knew  several  who  would  be  delighted  to  come  and  play 
for  him  by  the  hour.     He  shook  his  head,  and  the  bandages  hid  the 
tears  that  came  to  his  smarting  eyes.     He  had  made  arrangements  to 
be  read  aloud  to,  he  said ;  and  as  for  music,  that  must  wait  awhile. 
The  kind  woman  retired  dismayed, — she  could  not  understand  such 
obduracy, — and  her  husband  felt  rebuffed.      Stannard  of  the  cavalrv, 
too,  came  in  with  his  gentle  wife.     She  was  loved  througliout  the  regi- 
ment for  her  kindliness  and  grace  of  mind,  as  well  as  for  her  devo- 
tion to  the  sick  and  suffering  in  the  old  days  of  the  Indian  wars,  and 
Stannard  had  made  a  similar  proffer  and  been  similarly  refused,  and 
he  had  gone  away  indignant.     He  thought  ^Ir.  Hayne  too  bumptious 
to  live ;  but  he  bore  no  malice,  and  his  wrath  was  soon  over.     Many 
of  the  cavalry  officers  called  in  person  and  tendered  their  services,  and 
were  very  civilly  received,  but  all  offers  were  positively  declined.    Just 
what  the  infantry  officers  should  do  was  a  momentous  question.     That 
they  could  no  longer  hold  aloof  was  a  matter  that  was  quickly  settled, 
and  three  of  their  number  went  through  the  chill  gloaming  of  the 
wintry  eve  and  sent  in  their  cards  by  Sam,  who  ushered  them  into  the 
cheerless  front  room,  while  one  of  their  number  followed  to  the  door- 
way which  led  to  the  room  in  rear,  in  which,  still  confined  to  his  bed  by 
the  doctor's  advice,  the  injured  officer  was  lying.    It  was  Mr.  Ross  who 
went  to  the  door  and  cleared  his  throat  and  stood  in  the  presence  of  the 
man  to  whom,  more  than  five  years  before,  he  had  refused  his  hand. 
The  others  listened  anxiously  : 

"  Mr.  Hayne,  this  is  Ross.  I  come  with  Foster  and  Graham  to  say 
how  deeply  we  regret  your  injuries,  and  to  tender  our  sympathy  and  our 
services." 

There  was  a  dead  silence  for  a  moment.    Foster  and  Graham  stood 
with  hearts  that   beat  unaccountably  hard,  looking  at  each  other  in 
perplexity.     Would  he  never  reply  ? 
Vol.  XXXIX.— 49 


746  THE  DESERTER. 

The  answer  came  at  last, — a  question  : 

"To  what  injuries  do  you  allude,  Mr.  Ross?" 

Even  in  the  twilight  they  could  see  the  sudden  flush  of  the  Scotch- 
man's cheek.  He  was  a  blunt  fellow,  but,  as  the  senior,  had  been 
chosen  spokesman  for  the  three.  The  abrupt  question  staggered  him. 
It  was  a  second  or  two  before  he  could  collect  himself. 

"  I  mean  the  injuries  at  the  fire,"  he  replied. 

This  time,  no  answer  whatever.'  It  was  growing  too  painful. 
Koss  looked  in  bewilderment  at  the  bandaged  face,  and  again  broke  the 
silence : 

"  We  hope  you  won't  deny  us  the  right  to  be  of  service,  Mr.  Hayne. 
If  there  is  anything  we  can  do  that  you  need,  or  would  like "  hesi- 
tatingly. 

"  You  have  nothing  further  to  say  ?"  asked  the  calm  voice  from 
the  pillow. 

"  I — don't  know  what  else  we  can  say,"  faltered  Ross,  after  an  in- 
stant's pause. 

The  answer  came,  firm  and  prompt,  but  icily  cool : 

"  Then  there  is  nothing  that  you  can  do." 

And  the  three  took  their  departure,  sore  at  heart. 

There  were  others  of  the  infantry  who  had  purposed  going  to  see 
Hayne  that  evening,  but  the  story  of  Ross's  experience  put  an  end  to  it 
all.'  It  was  plain  that  even  now  Mr.  Hayne  made  the  condition  of  the 
faintest  advance  from  his  regimental  comrades  a  full  confession  of  error. 
He  would  have  no  less. 

That  evening  the  colonel  sat  by  his  bedside  and  had  an  earnest  talk. 
He  ventured  to  expostulate  with  the  invalid  on  his  refusal  to  go  to  the 
major's  or  to  Stannard's.  He  could  have  so  many  comforts  and  deli- 
cacies there  that  would  be  impossible  here.  He  did  not  refer  to  edibles 
and  drinkables  alone,  he  said,  with  a  smile ;  but  Hayne's  patient  face 
gave  no  sign  of  relenting.  He  heard  the  colonel  through,  and  then 
said,  slowly  and  firmly, — 

"  I  have  not  acted  hastily,  sir  :  I  appreciate  their  kindness,  and  am 
not  ungrateful.  Five  years  ago  my  whole  life  was  changed.  From 
that  time  to  this  I  have  done  without  a  host  of  things  that  used  to  be 
indispensable,  and  have  abjured  them  one  and  all  for  a  single  luxury 
that  I  cannot  live  without, — the  luxury  of  utter  independence, — the 
joy  of  knowing  that  I  owe  no  man  anything, — the  blessing  of  being 
beholden  to  no  one  on  earth  for  a  single  service  I  cannot  pay  for.  It 
is  the  one  luxury  left  me." 

VII. 

It  was  a  clear  winter's  evening,  sharply  cold,  about  a  week  after  the 
fire,  when,  as  Mrs.  Rayner  came  down  the  stairway  equipped  for  a 
walk,  and  was  passing  the  parlor  door  without  stopping.  Miss  Travers 
caught  sight  of  and  called  to  her, — 

"  Are  you  going  walking,  Kate?  Do  wait  a  moment,  and  I'll  go 
with  you." 

Any  one  in  the  hall  could  have  shared  the  author's  privilege  and 


THE  DESERTER.  747 

seen  the  expression  of  annoyance  and  confusion  that  appeared  on  Mrs. 
Rayner's  face : 

"  I  thought  you  were  out.    Did  not  Mr.  Graham  take  you  walking  ?" 

"  He  did ;  but  we  wandered  into  Mrs.  Waldron's,  and  she  and 

the  major  begged  us  to  stay,  and  we  had  some  music,  and  then  the  first 

call  sounded  for  retreat,  and  Mr.  Graham  had  to  go,  so  he  brought  me 

home.     I've  had  no  walk,  and  need  exercise." 

"  But  I  don't  like  you   to  be  out  after   sunset.     That  cough  of 

yours " 

"  Disappeared  the  day  after  I  got  here,  Kate,  and  there  hasn't  been 
a  vestige  of  it  since.  This  high,  dry  climate  put  an  end  to  it.  No, 
I'll  be  ready  in  one  minute  more.     Do  wait." 

Mrs,  Rayner's  hand  was  turning  the  knob  while  her  sister  was 
hurrying  to  the  front  door  and  drawing  on  her  heavy  jacket  as  she  did 
so.     The  former  faced  her  impatiently  : 

"I  don't  think  you  are  at  all  courteous  to  your  visitors.  You 
know  just  as  well  as  I  do  that  Mr.  Foster  or  Mr.  Royce  or  some  other 
of  those  young  officers  are  sure  to  be  in  just  at  this  hour.  You  really 
are  very  thoughtless,  Nellie." 

Miss  Travers  stopped  short  in  her  preparations. 
"  Kate  Rayner,"  she  began,  impressively,  "  it  was  only  night  before 
last  that  you  rebuked  me  for  sitting  here  with  Mr.  Blake  at  this  very 
hour,  and  asked  me  how  I  supposed  Mr.  Van  Antwerp  would  like  it. 

Now  you " 

"  Fudge  !  I  cannot  stay  and  listen  to  such  talk.  If  you  must  go, 
wait  a  few  minutes  until  I  get  back.  I — I  want  to  make  a  short  aill. 
Then  I'll  take  you." 

"  So  do  I  want  to  make  a  short  call, — over  at  the  doctor's ;  and 
you  are  going  right  to  the  hospital,  are  you  not  ?" 

"  How  do  you  know  I  am  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Rayner,  reddening. 
"  You  do  go  there  every  evening,  it  seems  to  me." 
"  I  don't.     Who  told  you  I  did>' 

"  Several  people  mentioned  your  kindness  and  attention  to  the 
Clancys,  Kate.     I  have  heard  it  from  many  sources." 

"  I  wish  people  would  mind  their  own  affairs,"  wailed  Mrs.  Ray- 
ner, peevishly. 

**  So  do  I,  Kate ;  but  they  never  have,  and  never  will,  especially 
with  an  engaged  girl.  I  have  more  to  complain  of  than  you,  but  it 
doesn't  make  me  forlorn,  whereas  you  look  fearfully  worried  about 
nothing." 

"  Who  says  I'm  worried  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Rayner,  with  sudden  vehe- 
mence. 

"  You  look  worried,  Kate,  and  haven't  been  at  all  like  yourself  for 
several  days.  Now,  xvhy  shouldn't  I  go  to  the  hospital  with  you? 
Why  do  you  try  to  hide  your  going  from  me  ?  Don't  you  know  that 
I  must  have  heard  the  strange  stories  that  are  flitting  about  the  garrison? 
Haven't  I  asked  you  to  set  me  right  if  I  have  been  told  a  wrong  one  ? 
Kate,  you  are  fretting  yourself  to  death  about  something,  and  the  cap- 
tain looks  worried  and  ill.  I  cannot  but  think  it  has  some  connection 
with  the  case  of  Mr.  Hayne.     Why  should  the  Clancys " 


748  THE  DESERTER. 

"  You  have  no  right  to  think  any  such  thing,"  answered  her  sister, 
angrily.  "  We  have  suffered  too  much  at  his  hands  or  on  his  account 
already,  and  I  never  want  to  hear  such  words  from  your  lips.  It 
would  outrage  Captain  Rayner  to  hear  that  my  sister,  to  whom  he  has 
given  a  home  and  a  welcome,  was  linking  herself  with  those  who  side 
with  that— that  thief." 

"  Kate  !  Oh,  how  can  you  use  such  words  ?  How  dare  you  speak 
so  of  an  officer  ?  You  would  not  tell  me  what  he  was  accused  of ;  but 
I  tell  you  that  if  it  be  theft  I  don't  believe  it, — and  no  one  else " 

There  was  a  sudden  footfall  on  the  porch  without,  and  a  quick, 
sharp,  imperative  knock  at  the  door.  Mrs.  Rayner  fled  back  along  the 
hall  towards  the  dining-room.  Miss  Travers,  hesitating  but  a  second, 
opened  the  door. 

It  was  the  soldier  telegraph-operator,  with  a  despatch-envelope  in  his 
hand  : 

"  It  is  for  Mrs.  Rayner,  miss,  and  an  answer  is  expected.  Shall  I 
wait?" 

Mrs.  Rayner  came  hastily  forward  from  her  place  of  refuge  within 
the  dining-room,  took  the  envelope  without  a  word,  and  passed  into 
the  parlor,  where,  standing  beneath  the  lamp,  she  tore  it  open,  glanced 
anxiously  at  its  contents,  then  threw  it  with  an  exclamation  of  peevish 
indignation  upon  the  table  : 

"  You'll  have  to  answer  for  yourself,  Nellie.  I  cannot  straighten 
your  affairs  and  mine  too."  And  with  that  she  was  going ;  but  Miss 
Travers  called  her  back. 

The  message  simply  read,  "  No  letter  in  four  days.  Is  anything 
wrong  ?     Answer  paid,"  and  was  addressed  to  Mrs.  Rayner  and  signed 

"  I  think  you  have  been  extremely  neglectful,"  said  Mrs.  Rayner, 
who  had  turned  and  now  stood  watching  the  rising  color  and  impa- 
tiently tapping  foot  of  her  younger  sister.  Miss  Travers  bit  her  lips 
and  compressed  them  hard.  There  was  an  evident  struggle  in  her 
mind  between  a  desire  to  make  an  impulsive  and  sweeping  reply  and 
an  effort  to  control  herself. 

"  Will  you  answer  a  quiet  question  or  two?"  she  finally  asked. 

"  You  know  perfectly  well  I  will,"  was  the  sisterly  rejoinder. 

"  How  long  does  it  take  a  letter  to  go  from  here  to  New  York  ?" 

"  Five  or  six  days,  I  suppose." 

Miss  Travers  stepped  to  the  door,  briefly  told  the  soldier  there  was 
no  answer,  thanked  him  for  waiting,  and  returned. 

"  You  are  not  going  to  reply  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Rayner,  in  amaze. 

"  I  am  not ;  and  I  inferred  you  did  not  intend  to.  Now  another 
question.     How  many  days  have  we  been  here  ?" 

"  Eight  or  nine, — nine,  it  is." 

"  You  saw  me  post  a  letter  to  Mr.  Van  Antwerp  as  we  left  the 
Missouri,  did  you  not  ?" 

"  Yes.     At  least  I  suppose  so." 

"  I  wrote  again  as  soon  as  we  got  settled  here,  three  days  after  that, 
did  I  not?" 

"  You  said  you  did,"  replied  Mrs.  Rayner,  ungraciously. 


THE  DESERTER.  749 

"  And  you,  Kate,  when  you  are  yourself  have  been  prompt  to  declare 
that  I  say  what  I  mean.  Very  probably  it  may  have  been  four  days 
from  the  time  that  letter  from  the  transfer  reached  Wall  Street  to  the 
time  the  next  one  could  get  to  him  from  here,  even  had  I  written  the 
night  we  arrived.  Possibly  you  forget  that  you  forbade  my  doing  so, 
and  sent  me  to  bed  early.  Mr,  Van  Antwerp  has  simply  failed  to  re- 
member that  I  had  gone  several  hundred  miles  farther  west ;  and  even 
had  I  written  on  the  train  twice  a  day,  the  letters  would  not  have 
reached  him  uninterruptedly.  By  this  time  he  is  beginning  to  get 
them  fast  enough.  And  as  for  you,  Kate,  you  are  quite  as  unjust  as 
he.  It  augurs  badly  for  my  future  peace ;  and — I  am  learning  two 
lessons  here,  Kate." 

"  What  two,  pray  ?" 

"  That  he  can  be  foolishly  unreliable  in  estimating  a  woman." 

"And  the  other?" 

"  That  you  may  be  persistently  unreliable  in  your  judgment  of  a 
man." 

Verily,  for  a  young  woman  with  a  sweet,  girlish  face,  whom  we 
saw  but  a  week  agone  twitching  a  kitten's  ears  and  saying  little  or 
nothing,  Miss  Travers  was  displaying  unexpected  fighting  qualities. 
For  a  moment,  Mrs.  Rayner  glared  at  her  in  tremulous  indignation 
and  dismay. 

"  You — you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself !"  was  her  eventual 
outbreak. 

But  to  this  there  was  no  reply.  Miss  Travers  moved  quietly 
to  the  door- way,  turned  and  looked  her  angry  sister  in  the  eye,  and 
said, — 

"  I  shall  give  up  the  walk,  and  will  go  to  my  room.  Excuse  me  to 
any  visitors  this  evening." 

"  You  are  not  going  to  write  to  him  now,  when  you  are  angry,  I 
hope?" 

"  I  shall  not  write  to  him  until  to-morrow,  but  when  I  do  I  shall 
tell  him  this,  Kate  :  that  if  he  desire  my  confidence  he  will  address  his 
complaints  and  inquiries  to  me.  If  I  am  old  enough  to  be  engaged  to 
him,  in  your  opinion,  I  am  equally  old  enough  to  attend  to  such  details 
as  these,  in  my  own." 

Mrs.  Rayner  stood  one  moment  as  though  astounded ;  then  she  flew 
to  the  door  and  relieved  her  surcharged  bosom  as  follows,  "  Well,  I 
pity  the  man  you  marry,  whether  you  are  lucky  enough  to  keep  this 
one  or  not !"  and  flounced  indignantly  out  of  the  house. 

When  Captain  Rayner  came  in,  half  an  hour  afterwards,  the 
parlor  was  deserted.  He  was  looking  worn  and  dispirited.  Find- 
ing no  one  on  the  ground-floor,  he  went  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  and 
called, — 

"  Kate." 

A  door  opened  above :  "  Kate  has  gone  out,  captain." 

"  Do  you  know  where,  Nellie  ?" 

"  Over  to  the  hospital,  I  think  ;  though  I  cannot  say." 

She  heard  him  sigh  deeply,  move  irresolutely  about  the  hall  for  a 
moment,  then  turn  and  go  out. 


750  ^^^  DESERTER. 

At  his  gate  he  found  two  figures  dimly  visible  in  the  gathering 
darkness :  they  had  stopped  on  hearing  his  footstep.  One  was  an 
officer  in  uniform,  wrapped  in  heavy  overcoat,  with  a  fur  cap,  and  a 
bandage  over  his  eyes.  The  other  was  a  Chinese  servant,  and  it  was 
the  latter  who  asked, — 

"ThisMaje  Waldlon's?" 

"  No,"  said  he,  hastily.  "  Major  Waldron's  is  the  third  door 
beyond." 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice  the  officer  quickly  started,  but  spoke  in 
low,  measured  tone  :  "  Straight  ahead,  Sam."  And  the  Chinaman  led 
him  on. 

Rayner  stood  a  moment  watching  them,  bitter  thoughts  coursing 
through  his  mind.  Mr.  Hayne  was  evidently  sufficiently  recovered  to 
be  up  and  out  for  air,  and  now  he  was  being  invited  again.  This  time 
it  was  his  old  comrade  Waldron  who  honored  him.  Probably  it  was 
another  dinner.  Little  by  little,  at  this  rate,  the  time  would  soon  come 
when  Mr.  Hayne  would  be  asked  everywhere  and  he  and  his  corre- 
spondingly dropped.  He  turned  miserably  away,  and  went  back  to 
the  billiard-rooms  at  the  store.  When  Mrs.  Rayner  rang  her  bell  for 
tea  that  evening  he  had  not  reappeared,  and  she  sent  a  messenger  for 
him. 

It  was  a  brilliant  moonlit  evening.  A  strong  prairie  gale  had 
begun  to  blow  from  the  northwest,  and  was  banging  shutters  and 
whirling  pebbles  at  a  furious  rate.  At  the  sound  of  the  trumpets  wail- 
ing tattoo  a  brace  of  young  officers  calling  on  the  ladies  took  their 
leave.  The  captain  had  retired  to  his  den,  or  study,  where  he  shut  him- 
self up  a  good  deal  of  late,  and  thither  Mrs.  Rayner  followed  him  and 
closed  the  door  after  her.  Throwing  a  cloak  over  her  shoulders.  Miss 
Travers  stepped  out  on  the  piazza  and  gazed  in  delight  upon  the  moon- 
lit panorama, — the  snow-covered  summits  to  the  south  and  west,  the 
rolling  expanse  of  upland  prairie  between,  the  rough  outlines  of  the 
foot-hills  softened  in  the  silvery  light,  the  dark  shadows  of  the  barracks 
across  the  parade,  the  twinkling  lights  of  the  sergeants  as  they  took 
their  stations,  the  soldierly  forms  of  the  officers  hastening  to  their  com- 
panies far  across  the  frozen  level.  Suddenly  she  became  aware  of  two 
forms  coming  down  the  walk.  They  issued  from  Major  Waldron's 
quarters,  and  the  door  closed  behind  them.  One  was  a  young  officer ; 
the  other,  she  speedily  made  out,  a  Chinese  servant,  who  was  guiding 
his  master.  She  knew  the  pair  in  an  instant,  and  her  first  impulse  was 
to  retire.  Then  she  reflected  that  he  could  not  see,  and  she  wanted  to 
look  :  so  she  stayed.  They  had  almost  reached  her  gate,  when  a  wild 
blast  whirled  the  officer's  cape  about  his  ears  and  sent  some  sheets  of 
music  flying  across  the  road.  Leaving  his  master  at  the  fence,  the 
Chinaman  sped  in  pursuit ;  and  the  next  thing  she  noted  was  that  Mr. 
Hayne's  fur  cap  was  blown  from  his  head  and  that  he  was  groping  for 
it  helplessly. 

There  was  no  one  to  call,  no  one  to  assist.  She  hesitated  one 
minute,  looked  anxiously  around,  then  sprang  to  the  gate,  picked  up 
the  cap,  pulled  it  well  down  over  the  bandaged  eyes,  seized  the  young 
officer  firmly  by  the  arm,  drew  him  within  the  gate,  and  led  him  to  the 


THE  DESERTER.  751 

shelter  of  the  piazza.    Once  out  of  the  fury  of  the  gale,  she  could  hear 
his  question,  "  Did  you  get  it  all,  Sam  ?" 

"  Not  yet,"  she  answered.  Oh,  how  she  longed  for  a  deep  contralto ! 
"  He  is  coming.     He  wall  be  here  in  a  moment." 

"I  am  so  sorry  to  have  been  a  trouble  to  you,"  he  began  again, 
vaguely. 

'*  You  are  no  trouble  to  me.  I'm  glad  I  was  where  I  happened  to 
see  you  and  could  help." 

He  spoke  no  more  for  a  minute.  She  stood  gazing  at  all  that  was 
visible  of  the  pale  face  below  the  darkened  eyes.  It  was  so  clear-cut, 
so  refined  in  feature,  and  the  lips  under  the  sweeping  blonde  moustache, 
though  set  and  compressed,  were  delicate  and  pink.  He  turned  his 
head  eagerly  towards  the  parade ;  but  Sam  was  still  far  away.  The 
music  had  scattered,  and  was  leading  him  a  lively  dance. 

"  Isn't  my  servant  coming  ?"  he  asked,  constrainedly.  "  I  fear  I'm 
keeping  you.  Please  do  not  Avait.  He  will  find  me  here.  You  were 
going  somewhere." 

''  No, — unless  it  was  here."  She  was  trembling  now.  "  Please  be 
patient,  Mr. — Mr.  Hayne,  Sam  may  be  a  minute  or  two  yet,  and  here 
you  are  out  of  the  wind." 

Again  she  looked  in  his  face.  He  was  listening  eagerly  to  her 
words,  as  though  striving  to  "  place"  her  voice.  Could  she  be  mis- 
taken ?  Was  he,  too,  not  trembhng  ?  Beyond  all  doubt  his  lips  were 
quivering  now. 

"  May  I  not  know  who  it  is  that  led  me  here  ?"  he  asked,  gently. 

She  hesitated,  hardly  knowing  how  to  tell  him. 

"  Try  and  guess,"  she  laughed,  nervously.  "  But  you  couldn't. 
You  do  not  know  my  name.  It  is  my  good  fortune,  Mr.  Hayne.  You 
— you  saved  my  kitten  ;  I — your  cap." 

There  was  no  mistaking  his  start.  Beyond  doubt  he  had  winced 
as  though  stung,  and  was  now  striving  to  grope  his  way  to  the  railing. 
She  divined  his  purpose  in  an  instant,  and  her  slender  hand  was  laid 
pleadingly  yet  firmly  on  his  arm. 

"Mr.  Hayne,  don't  go.  Don't  think  of  going.  Stay  here  until 
Sam  comes.     He's  coming  now,"  she  faltered. 

"  Is  this  Captain  Rayner's  house  ?"  he  asked,  hoarse  and  low. 

"  No  matter  whose  it  is  !  I  welcome  you  here.  You  shall  not  go," 
she  cried,  impulsively,  and  both  little  hands  were  tugging  at  his  arm. 
He  had  found  the  railing,  and  was  pulling  himself  towards  the  gate, 
but  her  words,  her  clinging  hands,  were  too  persuasive. 

"  T  cannot  realize  this,"  he  said.     "  I  do  not  understand " 

"  Do  not  try  to  understand  it,  Mr.  Hayne.  If  I  am  only  a  girl,  I 
have  a  right  to  think  for  myself.  My  father  was  a  soldier, — I  am 
Nellie  Travers, — and  if  he  were  alive  I  know  W'cll  he  would  have  had 
me  do  just  what  I  have  done  this  night.     Now  won't  you  stay  ?" 

And  light  was  beaming  in  through  his  darkened  eyes  and  glad- 
dening his  soul  with  a  rapture  he  had  not  known  for  years.  One  in- 
stant he  seized  and  clasped  her  hand.  "  May  God  bless  you  !"  was  all 
he  whispered,  but  so  softly  that  even  she  did  not  hear  him.  He  bowed 
low  over  the  slender  white  hand,  and  stayed. 


752  ^^-^   DESERTER. 


VIII. 

March  had  come, — the  month  of  gale  and  bhister,  sleet  and  storm, 
in  almost  every  section  of  our  broad  domain, — and  March  at  Warrener 
was  to  the  full  as  blustering  and  conscienceless  as  in  New  England. 
There  were  a  few  days  of  sunshine  during  the  first  week ;  then  came 
a  fortniglit  of  raging  snow-storms.  The  cavalry  troops,  officers  and 
men,  went  about  their  stable-duties  as  usual,  but,  except  for  roll-call  on 
the  porch  of  the  barracks  and  for  guard-mounting  over  at  the  guard- 
house, all  military  exercise  seemed  suspended.  This  meant  livelier 
times  for  the  ladies,  however,  as  the  officers  were  enabled  to  devote  just 
so  many  more  hours  a  day  to  their  entertainment.  There  were  two  or 
three  hops  a  week  over  in  the  big  assembly-room,  and  there  was  some 
talk  of  getting  up  a  german  in  honor  of  Miss  Travers,  but  the  strained 
relations  existing  between  Mrs.  Rayner  and  the  ladies  of  other  families 
at  the  post  made  the  matter  difficult  of  accomplishment.  There  were 
bright  little  luncheon-,  dinner-,  and  tea-parties,  where  the  young  officers 
and  the  younger  ladies  met  every  day ;  and,  besides  all  this,  despite  the 
fact  that  Mrs.  Rayner  had  at  first  shown  a  fixed  determination  to  dis- 
cuss the  rights  and  wrongs  of  "  the  Hayne  affair,"  as  it  was  now  be- 
ginning to  be  termed,  with  all  comers  who  belonged  to  the  Kiflers,  it  had 
grown  to  be  a  very  general  thing  for  the  youngsters  to  drop  in  at  her 
house  at  all  hours  of  the  day  ;  but  that  was  because  there  were  attrac- 
tions there  which  outAveighed  her  combativeness.  Then  Eayner  him- 
self overheard  some  comments  on  the  mistake  she  was  making,  and  for- 
bade her  discussing  the  subject  with  the  officers  even  of  her  own  regiment. 
She  Avas  indignant,  and  demanded  a  reason.  He  would  name  no  names, 
but  told  her  that  he  had  heard  enough  to  convince  him  she  was  doing 
him  more  harm  than  good,  and,  if  anything,  contributing  to  the  turn 
of  the  tide  in  Hayne's  favor.  Then  she  felt  outraged  and  utterly  mis- 
judged. It  was  a  critical  time  for  her,  and  if  deprived  of  the  use 
of  her  main  weapon  of  offence  and  defence  the  battle  was  sure  to  go 
amiss.  Sorely  against  her  inclination,  she  obeyed  her  lord,  for,  as  has 
been  said,  she  was  a  loyal  wife,  and  for  the  time  being  the  baby  became 
the  recipient  of  her  undivided  attention. 

True  to  her  declaration,  she  behaved  so  coldly  and  with  such  marked 
distance  of  manner  to  the  colonel  and  his  wife  when  they  met  in  society 
immediately  after  the  dinner  that  the  colonel  quietly  told  his  wife  she 
need  not  give  either  dinner  or  reception  in  honor  of  Mrs.  Rayner's  re- 
turn. He  would  like  to  have  her  do  something  to  welcome  Miss 
Travers,  for  he  thought  the  girl  had  much  of  her  father  in  her.  He 
knew  him  well  in  the  old  days  before  and  during  the  war,  and  liked 
him.  He  liked  her  looks  and  her  sweet,  unaffected,  cheery  manner. 
He  liked  the  contrast  between  her  and  her  sister ;  for  Miss  Travers  had 
listened  in  silence  to  her  sister's  exposition  of  what  her  manner  should 
be  to  the  colonel  and  his  wife,  and  when  they  met  she  was  bright  and 
winsome.  The  colonel  stood  and  talked  with  her  about  her  father, 
whom  she  could  remember  only  vaguely,  but  of  whom  she  never  tired 


THE  DESERTER.  753 

of  hearing ;  and  that  night  Mrs.  Rayner  rebuked  her  severely  for  her 
disloyalty  to  the  captain,  who  had  given  her  a  home. 

But  when  Mrs.  Rayner  heard  that  Major  and  Mrs.  Waldron  had 
invited  Mr.  Hayne  to  dine  with  them,  and  had  invited  to  meet  him  two 
of  the  cavalry  officers  and  their  wives,  she  was  incensed  beyond  meas- 
ure. She  and  Mrs.  Waldron  had  a  brief  talk,  as  a  result  of  which 
Mrs.  Rayner  refused  to  speak  to  Mrs.  Waldron  at  the  evening  party 
given  by  Mrs.  Stannard  in  honor  of  her  and  her  sister.  It  was  this 
that  brought  on  the  crisis.  Whatever  was  said  between  the  men  was 
not  told.  Major  Waldron  and  Captain  Rayner  had  a  long  consulta- 
tion, and  they  took  no  one  into  their  confidence ;  but  Mrs.  Rayner 
obeyed  her  husband,  went  to  Mrs.  Waldron  and  apologized  for  her 
rudeness,  and  then  went  with  her  sister  and  returned  the  call  of  the 
colonel's  wife ;  but  she  chose  a  bright  afternoon,  when  she  knew  well 
the  lady  was  not  at  home. 

She  retired  from  the  contest,  apparently,  as  has  been  said,  and  took 
much  Christian  consolation  to  herself  from  the  fact  that  at  so  great  a 
sacrifice  she  was  obeying  her  husband  and  doing  tlie  duty  she  owed  to 
him.  In  very  truth,  however,  the  contest  was  withdrawn  from  her  by 
the  fact  that  for  a  week  or  more  after  his  evening  at  the  Waldrons'  Mr. 
Hayne  did  not  reappear  in  garrison,  and  she  had  no  cause  to  talk  about 
him.  Officers  visiting  the  house  avoided  mention  of  his  name.  Ladies 
of  the  cavalry  regiment  calling  upon  Mrs.  Rayner  and  ^liss  Travers 
occasionally  spoke  of  him  and  his  devotion  to  the  men  and  his  bravery 
at  the  fire,  but  rather  as  though  they  meant  in  a  general  way  to  com- 
pliment the  Riflers,  not  Mr.  Hayne ;  and  so  she  heard  little  of  the  man 
whose  existence  was  so  sore  a  trial  to  her.  What  she  would  have  said, 
what  she  would  have  thought,  had  she  known  of  the  meeting  between 
him  and  her  guarded  Nellie,  is  beyond  us  to  describe ;  but  she  never 
dreamed  of  such  a  thing,  and  Miss  Travers  never  dreamed  of  telling 
her, — for  the  present,  at  least.  Fortunately — or  unfortunately — for  the 
latter,  it  was  not  so  much  of  her  relations  with  Mr.  Hayne  as  of  her 
relations  with  half  a  dozen  young  bachelors  that  Mrs.  Rayner  speedily 
felt  herself  compelled  to  complain.  It  was  a  blessed  relief  to  the  elder 
sister.  Her  surcharged  spirit  was  in  sore  need  of  an  escape-valve.  She 
was  ready  to  boil  over  in  the  mental  ebullition  consequent  upon  Mr. 
Hayne's  reception  at  the  post,  and  with  all  the  pent-up  irritability  which 
that  episode  had  generated  she  could  not  have  contained  herself  and 
slept.  But  here  Miss  Travers  came  to  her  relief.  Her  beauty,  her 
winsome  ways,  her  unqualified  delight  in  everything  that  was  soldierly, 
speedily  rendered  her  vastly  attractive  to  all  the  young  officers  in  garri- 
son. Graham  and  Foster  of  the  infantry,  Merton,  Webster,  and  Royce 
of  the  cavalry,  haunted  the  house  at  all  manner  of  hours,  and  the 
captain  bade  them  welcome  and  urged  them  to  come  oftener  and  stay 
later,  and  told  Mrs.  Rayner  he  wanted  some  kind  of  a  supper  or  colla- 
tion every  night.  He  set  before  his  guests  a  good  deal  of  wine,  and 
drank  a  good  deal  more  himself  than  he  had  ever  been  known  to  do 
before,  and  they  were  keeping  very  late  hours  at  Rayner's,  for,  said  the 
captain,  "  I  don't  care  if  Nellie  is  engaged  :  she  shall  have  a  good  time 
while  she's  here ;  and  if  the  boys  know  all  about  it, — goodness  knows 


754  THE  DESERTER. 

you've  told  them  often  enough,  Kate, — and  they  don't  mind  it,  why, 
it's  nobody's  business, — here,  at  least." 

What  Mr.  Van  Antwerp  might  think  or  care  was  another  matter. 
Rayner  never  saw  him,  and  did  not  know  him.  He  rather  resented  it 
that  Van  Antwerp  had  never  written  to  him  and  asked  his  consent.  As 
Mrs.  Rayner's  husband  and  Nellie's  brother-in-law,  it  seemed  to  him  he 
stood'  in  loco  'parentis  ;  but  Mrs.  Rayner  managed  the  whole  thing  her- 
self, and  he  was  not  even  consulted.  If  anything,  he  rather  enjoyed  the 
contemplation  of  Van  Antwerp's  fidgety  frame  of  mind  as  described  to 
him  by  Mrs.  Rayner  about  the  time  it  became  ajjparent  to  her  that  Nellie 
was  enjoying  the  attentions  of  which  she  was  so  general  an  object,  and 
that  the  captain  was  sitting  up  later  and  drinking  more  wine  than  was 
good  for  him.  She  was  aware  that  the  very  number  of  Nell's  admirers 
would  probably  prevent  her  becoming  entangled  with  any  one  of  them, 
but  she  needed  something  to  scold  about,  and  eagerly  pitched  upon  this. 
She  knew  well  that  she  could  not  comfort  her  husband  in  the  anxiety 
that  was  gnawing  at  his  heart-strings,  but  she  was  jealous  of  comfort 
that  might  come  to  him  from  any  other  source,  and  the  Lethe  of  wine 
and  jolly  companionship  she  dreaded  most  of  all.  Long,  long  before, 
she  had  induced  him  to  promise  that  he  would  never  offer  the  young 
officers  spirits  in  his  house.  She  would  not  prohibit  wine  at  table,  she 
said ;  but  she  never  thouglit  of  there  coming  a  time  when  he  himself 
M^ould  seek  consolation  in  the  glass  and  make  up  in  quantity  what  it 
lacked  in  alcoholic  strength.  He  was  impatient  of  all  reproof  now,  and 
would  listen  to  no  talk  ;  but  Nellie  was  years  her  junior, — more  years 
than  she  would  admit  except  at  such  times  as  these,  when  she  meant  to 
admonish  ;  and  Nellie  had  to  take  it. 

Two  weeks  after  their  arrival  at  Warrener  the  burden  of  Mrs. 
Rayner's  song — morn,  noon,  and  night — was,  ''  What  would  Mr.  Van 
Antwerp  say  if  he  could  but  see  this  or  hear  that  ?" 

Can  any  reader  recall  an  instance  where  the  cause  of  an  absent  lover 
was  benefited  by  the  ceaseless  warning  in  a  woman's  ear,  "  Remember, 
you're  engaged"  ?  The  hero  of  antiquity  who  caused  himself  to  be 
attended  by  a  shadowing  slave  whispering  ever  and  only,  "  Remember, 
thou  art  mortal,"  is  a  fine  figure  to  contemplate — at  this  remote  date. 
He,  we  are  told,  admitted  the  need,  submitted  to  the  infliction.  But 
lives  there  a  woman  who  will  admit  that  she  needs  any  instruction  as 
to  what  her  conduct  should  be  when  the  lord  of  her  heart  is  away? 
Lives  there  a  woman  who,  submitting,  because  she  cannot  escape,  to 
the  constant  reminder,  "  Thou  art  engaged,"  will  not  resent  it  in  her  heart 
of  hearts  and  possibly  revenge  herself  on  the  one  alone  whom  she  holds 
at  her  mercy  ?  Left  to  herself, — to  her  generosity,  her  conscience,  her 
innate  tenderness, — the  cause  of  the  absent  one  will  plead  for  itself, 
and,  if  it  have  even  faint  foundation,  hold  its  own.  "  With  the  best 
intentions  in  the  world,"  many  an  excellent  cause  has  been  ruined  by 
the  injudicious  urgings  of  a  mother ;  but  to  talk  an  engaged  girl  into 
mutiny,  rely  on  the  infallibility  of  two  women, — a  married  sister  or  a 
maiden  aunt. 

Just  what  Mr.  Van  Antwerp  would  have  said  could  he  have  seen 
the  situation  at  Warrener  is  perhaps  impossible  to  predict.     Just  what 


THE  DESERTER.  755 

he  did  say  without  seeing  was,  perhaps,  the  most  unwise  thing  he  could, 
have  thought  of:  he  urged  Mrs.  Kayner  to  keep  reminding  Nellie  of 
her  promise.  His  had  not  been  a  life  of  unmixed  joy.  He  was  now 
nearly  thirty-five,  and  desperately  in  love  with  a  pretty  girl  who  had 
simply  bewitched  him  during  the  previous  summer.  It  was  not  easy 
to  approach  her  then,  he  found,  for  her  sister  kept  vigilant  guard ;  but, 
once  satisfied  of  his  high  connections,  his  wealth,  and  his  social  stand- 
ing, the  door  was  opened,  and  he  was  something  more  than  welcomed, 
said  the  gossips  at  the  Surf  House.  What  his  past  history  had  been, 
where  and  how  his  life  had  been  spent,  were  matters  of  less  consequence, 
apparently,  than  what  he  was  now.  He  had  been  wild  at  college,  as 
other  boys  had  been,  she  learned ;  he  had  tried  the  cattle-business  in 
the  West,  she  was  told ;  but  there  had  been  a  quarrel  with  his  father, 
a  reconciliation,  a  devoted  mother,  a  long  sojourn  abroad, — Heidelberg, 
— a  sudden  summons  to  return,  the  death  of  the  father,  and  then  the 
management  of  a  valuable  estate  fell  to  the  son.  There  were  other 
children,  brother  and  sisters,  three  in  all,  but  Steven  was  the  first-born 
and  the  mother's  glory.  She  was  with  him  at  the  sea-side,  and  the 
first  thing  that  moved  Nellie  Travers  to  like  him  was  his  devotion  to 
that  white-haired  woman  who  seemed  so  happy  in  his  care.  Between 
that  mother  aiid  Mrs.  Rayner  there  had  speedily  sprung  up  an  acquaint- 
ance. She  had  vastly  admired  Nellie,  and  during  the  first  fortnight  of 
their  visit  to  the  Surf  House  had  shown  her  many  attentions.  The  ill- 
ness of  a  daughter  called  her  away,  and  Mrs.  Rayner  announced  that 
she,  too,  was  going  elsewhere,  when  Mr.  Van  Antwerp  himself  re- 
turned, and  Mrs,  Rayner  decided  it  was  so  late  in  the  season  that  they 
had  better  remain  until  it  was  time  to  go  to  town.  In  October  they 
spent  a  fortnight  in  the  city,  staying  at  the  Westminster,  and  he  was 
assiduous  in  his  attentions,  taking  them  everywhere,  and  lavishing 
flowers  and  bonbons  upon  Nell.  Then  Mrs.  Van  Antwerp  invited 
them  to  visit  her  at  her  own  comfortable,  old-fashioned  house  down- 
town, and  Mrs.  Rayner  was  eager  to  accept,  but  Nellie  said  no;  she 
would  not  do  it :  she  could  not  accept  Mr.  Van  Antwerp ;  she  liked, 
admired,  and  was  attracted  by  him,  but  she  felt  that  love  him  she  did 
not.  He  was  devoted,  but  had  tact  and  ])atience,  and  Mrs.  Rayner  at 
last  yielded  to  her  demand  and  took  her  off  in  October  to  spend  some 
time  in  the  interior  of  the  State  with  relations  of  their  mother,  and 
there,  frequently,  came  Mr.  Van  Antwerp  to  see  her  and  to  urge  his 
suit.  They  were  to  have  gone  to  Warrener  immediately  after  the 
holidays,  but  January  came  and  Nellie  had  not  surrendered.  An- 
other week  in  the  city,  a  long  talk  with  the  devoted  old  mother  whose 
heart  was  so  wrapped  up  in  her  son's  happiness  and  whose  arms 
seemed  yearning  to  enfold  the  lovely  girl,  and  Nellie  "vyas  conquered. 
If  not  fully  convinced  of  her  love  for  Mr.  Van  Antwerp,  she  was 
mere  than  half  in  love  with  his  mother.  Her  promise  was  given, 
and  then  she  seemed  eager  to  get  back  to  the  frontier  which  she  had 
known  and  loved  as  a  child.  "  I  want  to  see  the  mountains,  the 
snow-peaks,  the  great  rolling  prairies,  once  more,"  she  said ;  and  he 
had  to  consent.  Man  never  urged  more  importunately  than  he  that 
the  wedding  should  come  off  that  very  winter ;  but  Nellie  once  more 


756  THE  DESERTER. 

said  no ;  she  could  not  and  would  not  listen  to  an  earlier  date  than  the 
summer  to  come. 

No  one  on  earth  knew  with  what  sore  foreboding  and  misery  he  let 
her  go.  It  was  something  that  Mrs.  Rayner  could  not  help  remarking, 
— his  unconquerable  aversion  to  every  mention  of  the  army  and  of  his 
own  slight  experience  on  the  frontier.  He  would  not  talk  of  it  even 
with  Nellie,  who  was  an  enthusiast  and  had  spent  two  years  of  her 
girlhood  ahnost  under  the  shadow  of  Laramie  Peak  and  loved  the  mere 
mention  of  the  Wyoming  streams  and  valleys.  In  her  husband's  name 
Mrs.  Rayner  had  urged  him  to  drop  his  business  early  in  the  spring 
and  come  to  them  for  a  visit.  He  declared  it  was  utterly  impossible. 
Every  moment  of  his  time  must  be  given  to  the  settling  of  estate  affairs, 
so  that  he  could  be  a  free  man  in  tlie  summer.  He  meant  to  take  his 
bride  abroad  immediately  and  spend  a  year  or  more  in  Europe.  These 
were  details  which  were  industriously  circulated  by  Mrs.  Rayner  and 
speedily  became  garrison  property.  It  seemed  to  the  men  that  in  bring- 
ing her  sister  there  engaged  she  had  violated  all  precedent  to  begin 
with,  and  in  this  instance,  at  least,  there  was  general  complaint.  Mr. 
Blake  said  it  reminded  him  of  his  early  boyhood,  when  they  used  to 
take  him  to  the  great  toy-stores  at  Christmas :  "  Look  all  you  like, 
long  for  it  as  much  as  you  please,  but  don't  touch."  Merton  and  Royce, 
of  the  cavalry,  said  it  was  simply  a  challenge  to  any  better  fellow  to 
cut  in  and  cut  out  the  Knickerbocker ;  and,  to  do  them  justice,  they  did 
their  best  to  carry  out  their  theory.  Both  they  and  their  comrades  of 
the  Riflers  were  assiduous  in  their  attentions  to  Miss  Travers,  and  other 
ladies,  less  favored,  made  acrimonious  comment  in  consequence.  A 
maiden  sister  of  one  of  the  veteran  captains  in  the  — th,  a  damsel 
whose  stern  asceticism  of  character  was  reflected  in  her  features  and 
grimly  illustrated  in  her  dress,  was  moved  to  censure  of  her  more  at- 
tractive neighbor.  "  If  I  had  given  my  heart  to  a  gentleman,"  said  she, 
and  her  manner  was  indicative  of  the  long  struggle  which  such  a  be- 
stowal would  cost  both  him  and  her,  "  nothing  on  earth  would  induce 
me  to  accept  attentions  from  any  one  else,  not  if  he  were  millions  of 
miles  away." 

But  Nellie  Travers  was  "accepting  attentions"  with  laughing  grace 
and  enjoying  the  society  of  these  young  fellows  immensely.  The  house 
would  have  been  gloomy  without  her  and  "  the  boys,"  Rayner  was 
prompt  to  admit,  for  he  was  ill  at  ease  and  sorely  worried,  while  his 
inflammable  Kate  was  fuming  over  the  situation  of  her  husband's  affairs. 
Under  ordinary  circumstances  she  would  have  seen  very  little  to  object 
to  so  long  as  Nellie  showed  no  preference  for  any  one  of  her  admirers 
at  Warrener,  and  unless  peevish  or  perturbed  in  spirit  would  have  made 
little  allusion,  to  it.  As  matters  stood,  however,  she  was  in  a  most 
querulous  and  excitable  mood  :  she  could  not  rail  at  the  real  cause  of 
her  misery,  and  so,  woman-like,  she  was  thankful  for  a  pretext  for  un- 
corking the  vials  of  her  wrath  on  somebody  or  something  else.  If  the 
young  matrons  in  garrison  who,  with  the  two  or  three  visiting  maidens, 
were  disposed  to  rebel  at  Miss  Nell's  apparent  absorption  of  all  the  avail- 
able cavaliers  at  the  post,  and  call  her  a  too  lucky  girl,  could  but  have 
heard  Mrs.  Rayner's  nightly  tirades  and  hourly  rebukes,  they  might  have 


THE  DESERTER.  757 

realized  that  here,  as  elsewhere,  the  rose  had  its  stinging  thorns.  As 
for  Miss  Travers,  she  confounded  her  sister  by  taking  it  all  very  sub- 
missively and  attempting  no  defence.  Possibly  conscience  was  telling 
her  that  she  deserved  more  than  she  was  getting,  or  than  she  would  be 
likely  to  get  until  her  sister  heard  of  the  adventure  with  Mr.  Hayne. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Mr.  Royce  one  evening  as  they  were  stamping 
off  the  snow  and  removing  their  heavy  wraps  in  Rayner's  hall-way 
after  a  series  of  garrison  calls,  "  Mrs.  Waldron  says  she  expects  you  to 
play  for  her  to-morrow  afternoon.  Miss  Travers.  Of  course  it  will  be 
my  luck  to  be  at  stables." 

"  You  hear  better  music  every  afternoon  than  I  can  give  you,  Mr. 
Royce." 

"  Where,  pray  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Rayner,  turning  quickly  upon  them. 

Mr.  Royce  hesitated,  and — with  shame  be  it  said — allowed  Miss 
Travers  to  meet  the  question  : 

"  At  Mr.  Hayne's,  Kate." 

There  was  the  same  awkward  silence  that  always  followed  the  men- 
tion of  Hayne's  name.  Mrs.  Rayner  looked  annoyed.  It  was  evident 
that  she  wanted  more  information, — wanted  to  ask,  but  was  restrained. 
Royce  determined  to  be  outspoken. 

"  Several  of  us  have  got  quite  in  the  way  of  stopping  there  on  our 
way  from  afternoon  stables,"  he  said,  very  quietly.  "  Mr.  Hayne  ha-s 
his  piano  now,  and  has  nearly  recovered  the  full  use  of  his  eyes.  He 
plays  well." 

Mrs.  Rayner  turned  about  once  more,  and,  without  saying  so  much 
as  good-night,  went  heavily  up-stairs,  leaving  her  escort  to  share  with 
Mr.  Royce  such  welcome  as  the  captain  was  ready  to  accord  them.  If 
forbidden  to  talk  on  the  subject  nearest  her  heart,  she  would  not  speak 
at  all.  She  would  have  banged  her  door,  but  that  would  have  waked 
baby.  It  stung  her  to  the  quick  to  know  that  the  cavalry  officers 
were  daily  visitors  at  Mr.  Hayne's  quarters.  It  was  little  comfort  to 
know  that  the  infantry  officers  did  not  go,  for  she  and  they  both  knew 
that,  except  Major  Waldron,  no  one  of  their  number  was  welcome 
under  that  roof  unless  he  would  voluntarily  come  forward  and  say,  "  I 
believe  you  innocent."  She  felt  that  but  for  the  stand  made  by  Hayne 
himself  most  of  their  number  would  have  received  him  into  comrade- 
ship again  by  this  time,  and  she  could  hardly  sleep  that  night  from 
thinking  over  what  she  had  heard. 

But  could  she  have  seen  the  fio;ure  that  was  slinkino-  in  the  snow  at 
the  rear  door  of  Hayne's  quarters  that  very  evening,  peering  into  the 
lighted  rooms,  and  at  last,  after  many  an  irresolute  turn,  knocking 
timidly  for  admission  and  then  hiding  behind  the  corner  of  the  shed 
until  Sam  came  and  poked  his  pig-tailed  head  out  into  the  wintry 
darkness  in  wondering  effort  to  find  the  visitor,  she  would  not  have 
slept  at  all. 

It  was  poor  Clancy,  once  more  mooning  about  the  garrison  and  up 
to  his  old  tricks.  Clancy  had  been  drinking ;  but  he  wanted  to  know, 
"  could  he  spake  with  the  lieutenant  ?" 


758  ^^^  DESERTER. 


IX. 

"  I  have  been  reading  over  your  letter  of  Thursday  last,  dear 
Steven,"  wrote  Miss  Ti'avers,  "  and  there  is  much  that  I  feel  I  ought 
to  answer.  You  and  Kate  are  very  much  of  a  mind  about  the  '  tempta- 
tions' with  which  I  am  surrounded  ;  but  you  are  far  more  imaginative 
than  she  is,  and  far  more  courteous.  There  is  so  much  about  your 
letter  that  touches  me  deeply  that  I  want  to  be  frank  and  fair  in  ray 
reply.  I  have  been  dancing  all  this  evening,  was  out  at  dinner  before 
that,  and  have  made  many  calls  this  afternoon ;  but,  tired  as  I  am,  my 
letter  must  be  written,  for  to-morrow  will  be  but  the  repetition  of  to- 
day. Is  it  that  I  am  cold  and  utterly  heartless  that  I  can  sit  and  write 
so  calmly  in  reply  to  your  fervent  and  appealing  letter  ?  Ah,  Steven, 
it  is  what  may  be  said  of  me ;  but,  if  cold  and  heartless  to  you,  I  have 
certainly  given  no  man  at  this  garrison  the  faintest  reason  to  think  that 
he  has  inspired  any  greater  interest  in  him.  They  are  all  kind,  all  very 
attentive.  I  have  told  you  how  well  Mr.  Royce  dances  and  Mr.  Mer- 
ton  rides  and  Mr.  Foster  reads  and  talks.  They  entertain  me  vastly, 
and  I  c?o  Jike  it.  More  than  this,  Steven,  I  am  pleased  with  their  evi- 
dent admiration, — not  alone  pleased  and  proud  that  they  should  admire 
me  who  am  pledged  to  you, — not  that  alone,  I  frankly  confess,  but 
because  it  in  itself  is  pleasant.  It  pleases  me.  Very  possibly  it  is 
because  I  am  vain. 

"  And  yet,  though  my  hours  are  constantly  occupied,  though  they 
are  here  from  morning  till  night,  no  one  of  them  is  more  attentive  than 
another.  There  are  five  or  six  who  come  daily.  There  are  some  who 
do  not  come  at  all.  Am  I  a  wretch,  Steven  ?  There  are  two  or  three 
that  do  not  call  who  I  wish  toould  call.     I  would  like  to  know  them. 

"  Yet  they  know — they  could  not  help  it,  with  Kate  here,  and  I 
never  forget — that  I  am  your  promised  wife.  Steven,  do  you  not 
sometimes  forget  the  conditions  of  that  promise?  Even  now,  again 
and  again  do  I  not  repeat  to  you  that  you  ought  to  release  me  and  free 
yourself?  Of  course  your  impulse  will  be  to  say  my  heart  is  changing, 
— that  I  have  seen  others  whom  I  like  better.  No,  I  have  seen  no  one 
I  like  as  well.  But  is  '  like'  what  you  deserve, — what  you  ask  ?  and 
is  it  not  all  I  have  ever  been  able  to  promise  you  ?  Steven,  bear  me 
witness,  for  Kate  is  bitterly  unjust  to  me  at  times,  I  told  you  again  and 
again  last  summer  and  fall  that  I  did  not  love  you  and  ought  not  to 
think  of  being  your  wife.  Yet,  poor,  homeless,  dependent  as  I  am, 
how  strong  M'as  the  temptation  to  say  yes  to  your  plea !  You  know 
that  I  did  not  and  would  not  until  time  and  again  your  sweet  mother, 
whom  I  do  love,  and  Kate,  who  had  been  a  mother  to  me,  both  declared 
that  that  should  make  no  difference  :  the  love  would  come  :  the  happiest 
marriages  the  world  over  were  those  in  which  the  girl  respected  the  man 
of  her  choice:  love  would  come,  and  come  speedily,  when  once  she 
was  his  wife.  You  yourself  declared  you  could  wait  in  patience, — you 
would  woo  and  win  by  and  by.  Only  promise  to  be  your  wife  before 
returning  to  the  frontier,  and  you  would  be  content.  Steven,  are  you 
content  ?     You  know  you  are  not ;  you  know  you  are  unhappy ;  and 


THE  DESERTER.  759 

it  is  all,  not  because  I  am  growing  to  love  some  one  else,  but  because  I 
am  not  growing  to  love  you.  Heaven  knows  I  want  to  love  you ;  for 
so  long  as  you  hold  me  to  it  my  promise  is  sacred  and  shall  be  kept. 
More  than  that,  if  you  say  that  it  is  your  will  that  I  seclude  myself 
from  these  attentions,  give  up  dancing,  give  up  rides,  drives,  walks,  and 
even  receiving  visits,  here,  so  be  it.  I  will  obey.  But  write  this  to 
me,  Steven, — not  to  Kate.  I  am  too  proud  to  ask  her  to  show  me  the 
letters  I  know  she  has  received  from  you, — and  there  are  some  she  has 
not  shown  me, — but  I  cannot  understand  a  man's  complaining  to  other 
persons  of  the  conduct  of  the  woman  who  is,  or  is  to  be,  his  wife. 
Forgive  me  if  I  pain  you  :  sometimes  even  to  myself  I  seem  old  and 
strange.  I  have  lived  so  much  alone,  have  had  to  think  and  do  for 
myself  so  many  years  while  Kate  has  been  away,  that  perhaps  I'm  not 
'  like  other  girls ;'  but  the  respect  I  feel  for  you  would  be  injured  if  I 
thought  you  strove  to  guide  or  govern  me  through  others  ;  and  of  one 
thing  be  sure,  Steven,  I  must  honor  and  resj)ect  and  look  up  to  the  man 
I  marry,  love  or  no  love. 

"  Once  you  said  it  would  kill  you  if  you  believed  I  could  be  false 
to  you.  If  by  that  you  meant  that,  having  given  my  promise  to  you 
to  be  your  wife  at  some  future  time,  I  must  school  myself  to  love  you, 
and  will  be  considered  false  if  love  do  not  come  at  my  bidding  or  yours, 
I  say  to  you  solemnly,  release  me  now.  I  may  not  love,  but  I  cannot 
and  will  not  deceive  you,  even  by  simulating  love  that  does  not  exist. 
Suppose  that  love  were  to  be  kindled  in  my  heart.  Suppose  I  were  to 
learn  to  care  for  some  one  here.'  You  would  be  the  first  one  to  know  it; 
for  I  would  tell  you  as  soon  as  I  knew  it  myself.  Then  what  could  I 
hope  for, — or  you  ?  Surely  you  would  not  want  to  marry  a  girl  who 
loved  another  man.  But  is  it  much  better  to  marry  one  who  feels  that 
she  does  not  love  you  ?  Think  of  it,  Steven  :  I  am  veiy  lonely,  very 
far  from  happy,  very  wretched  over  Kate's  evident  trouble  and  all  the 
sorrow  I  am  bringing  you  and  yours ;  but  have  I  misled  or  deceived 
you  in  any  one  thing?  Once  only  has  a  word  been  spoken  or  a  scene 
occurred  that  you  could  perhaps  have  objected  to.  I  told  you  the 
whole  thing  in  my  letter  of  Sunday  last,  and  why  I  had  not  told  Kate. 
We  have  not  met  since  that  night,  Mr.  Hayne  and  I,  and  may  not ; 
but  he  is  a  man  whose  story  excites  my  profound  pity  and  sorrow,  and 
he  is  one  of  the  two  or  three  I  feel  that  I  would  like  to  see  more  of. 
Is  this  being  false  to  you  or  to  my  promise  ?  If  so,  Steven,  you  cannot 
say  that  I  have  not  given  you  the  whole  truth. 

"  It  is  very  late  at  night, — one  o'clock, — and  Kate  is  not  yet  asleep, 
and  the  captain  is  still  down-stairs,  reading.  He  is  not  looking  well  at 
all,  and  Kate  is  sorely  anxious  about  him.  It  was  his  evidence  that 
brought  years  of  ostracism  and  misery  upon  Lieutenant  Hayne,  and 
there  are  vague  indications  that  in  his  own  regiment  the  officers  are 
beginning  to  believe  that  possibly  he  was  not  the  guilty  man.  The 
cavalry  officers,  of  course,  say  nothing  to  us  on  the  subject,  and  I  have 
never  heard  the  full  story.  If  he  has  been,  as  is  suggested,  the  victim 
of  a  scoundrel,  and  Captain  Rayner  was  at  fault  in  his  evidence,  no 
punishment  on  earth  could  be  too  great  for  the  villain  who  planned 
his  ruin,  and  no  remorse  could  atone  for  Captain  Eayner's  share.     I 


760  THE  DESERTER. 

never  saw  so  sad  a  face  on  mortal  man  as  Mr.  Hayne's.  Steven  Van 
Antwerp,  I  wish  I  were  a  man  !  I  would  trace  that  mystery  to  the 
bitter  end. 

"  This  is  a  strange  letter  to  send  to — to  you  ;  but  I  am  a  strange 
girl.     Already  I  am  more  than  expecting  you  to  write  and  release  me 
unconditionally  ;  and  you  ought  to  do  it.     I  do  not  say  I  want  it. 
"  Faithfully,  at  least,  yours, 

"  Nellie. 

"  P,S. — Should  you  write  to  Kate,  you  are  not  to  tell  her,  remember, 
of  my  meeting  with  Mr.  Hayne.  Of  course  I  am  anxious  to  have  your 
reply  to  that  letter ;  but  it  will  be  five  days  yet." 

An  odd  letter,  indeed,  for  a  girl  not  yet  twenty,  and  not  of  a  hope- 
inspiring  character ;  but  when  it  reached  Mr.  Van  Antwerp  he  did  not 
pale  in  reading  it :  his  face  was  ghastly  before  he  began.  If  anything, 
he  seemed  relieved  by  some  passages,  though  rejoiced  by  none.  Then 
he  took  from  an  inner  pocket  the  letter  that  had  reached  him  a  few  days 
previous,  and  all  alone  in  his  room,  late  at  night,  he  read  it  over  again, 
threw  it  upon  the  table  at  which  he  was  sitting,  then,  with  passionate 
abandonment,  buried  his  face  in  his  arms  and  groaned  aloud  in  anguish. 

Two  days  after  writing  this  letter  Miss  Travers  was  so  unfortunate 
as  to  hear  a  conversation  in  the  dining-room  which  was  not  intended 
for  her  ears.  She  had  gone  to  her  room  immediately  after  breakfast, 
and,  glancing  from  her  window,  saw  that  the  officers  were  just  going 
to  head-quarters  for  the  daily  matinee.  *  For  half  or  three-quarters  of 
an  hour,  therefore,  there  could  be  no  probable  interruption ;  and  she 
decided  to  write  an  answer  to  the  letter  which  came  from  Mr.  Van 
Antwerp  the  previous  afternoon.  A  bright  fire  was  burning  in  the 
old-fashioned  stove  with  which  frontier  quarters  are  warmed  if  not  orna- 
mented, and  she  perched  her  little,  slippered  feet  upon  the  hearth,  took 
her  portfolio  in  her  lap,  and  began.  Mrs.  Rayner  was  in  the  nursery, 
absorbed  with  the  baby  and  the  nurse,  when  a  servant  came  and  an- 
nounced that  "  a  lady  was  in  the  kitchen"  and  wanted  to  speak  with 
the  lady  of  the  house.  Mrs.  Rayner  promptly  responded  that  she  was 
busy  and  couldn't  be  disturbed,  and  wondered  who  it  could  be  that 
came  to  her  kitchen  to  see  her. 

"  Can  I  be  of  service,  Kate  ?"  called  Miss  Travers.  "  I  will  run 
down,  if  you  say  so." 

"  I  wish  you  would,"  was  the  reply ;  and  Miss  Travers  put  aside 
her  writing.  "  Didn't  she  give  any  name  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Rayner  of 
the  Abigail,  who  was  standing  with  her  head  just  visible  at  the  stair- 
way, it  being  one  of  the  unconquerable  tenets  of  frontier  domestics  to 
go  no  farther  than  is  absolutely  necessary  in  conveying  messages  of  any 
kind  ;  and  this  damsel,  though  new  to  the  neighborhood,  was  native  and 
to  the  manner  born  in  all  the  tricks  of  the  trade. 

"  She  said  you  knew  her  name,  ma'am.  She's  the  lady  from  the 
hospital." 

"  Here,  Jane,  take  the  baby  !  Never  mind,  Nellie  :  I  must  go  !" 
And  Mrs.  Rayner  started  with  surprising  alacrity  ;  but  as  she  passed  her 
door  Miss  Travers  saw  the  look  of  deep  anxiety  on  her  face. 


THE  DESERTER.  761 

A  moment  later  she  heard  voices  at  the  front  door, — a  party  of  ladies 
who  were  going  to  spend  the  morning  witli  the  colonel's  wife  at  some 
"  Dorcas  society"  work  which  many  of  them  had  embraced  with  enthu- 
siasm. "  I  want  to  see  Miss  Travers,  just  a  minute,"  she  heard  a  voice 
say,  and  recognized  the  pleasant  tones  of  Mrs.  Curtis,  the  young  wife 
of  one  of  the  infantry  officers  :  so  a  second  time  she  put  aside  her 
writing,  and  then  ran  down  to  the  front  door.  Mrs.  Curtis  merely 
wanted  to  remind  her  that  she  must  be  sure  to  come  and  spend  the 
afternoon  with  her  and  bring  her  music,  and  was  dismayed  to  find  that 
Miss  Travers  could  not  come  before  stable-call :  she  had  an  engage- 
ment. "  Of  course  :  I  might  have  known  it :  you  are  besieged  every 
hour.  Well,  can  you  come  to-morrow  ?  Do."  And,  to-morrow  being 
settled  upon,  and  despite  tlie  fact  that  several  of  the  party  waiting  on 
the  sidewalk  looked  cold  and  impatient,  Mrs.  Curtis  found  it  impossible 
to  tear  herself  away  until  certain  utterly  irrelevant  matters  had  been 
lightly  touched  upon  and  lingeringly  abandoned.  The  officers  were  just 
beginning  to  pour  forth  from  head-quarters  when  the  group  of  ladies 
finally  got  under  way  again  and  Miss  Travers  closed  the  door.  It 
was  now  useless  to  return  to  her  letter :  so  she  strolled  into  the  parlor 
just  as  she  heard  her  sister's  voice  at  the  kitchen  door  : 

"  Come  right  in  here,  Mrs.  Clancy.     Now,  quick,  what  is  it  ?" 
And  from  the  dining-room  came  the  answer,  hurried,  half  whispered, 
and  mysterious, — 

"  He's  been  drinkin'  ever  since  he  got  out  of  hospital,  ma'am,  an' 
he's  worse  than  ever  about  Loot'nant  Hayne.     It's  mischief  he'll  be 

doin',  ma'am  :  he's  crazy-like " 

"  Mrs.  Clancy,  you  must  watch  him.     You Hush  !" 

And  here  she  stopped  short,  for,  in  astonishment  at  Avhat  she  had 
already  heard,  and  in  her  instant  effi^rt  to  hear  no  more  of  what  was  so 
evidently  not  intended  for  her.  Miss  Travers  hurried  from  the  parlor, 
the  swish  of  her  skirts  telling  loudly  of  her  presence  there.  She  went 
again  to  her  room.  What  could  it  mean  ?  Why  was  her  proud,  im- 
perious Kate  holding  secret  interviews  with  this  coarse  and  vulgar 
woman  ?  What  concern  was  it  of  hers  that  Clancy  should  be  "  worse" 
about  Mr.  Hayne  ?  It  could  not  mean  that  the  mischief  he  would  do 
was  mischief  to  the  man  who  had  saved  his  life  and  his  property.  That 
was  out  of  the  question.  It  could  not  mean  that  the  poor,  broken- 
down,  drunken  fellow  had  the  means  in  his  power  of  further  harming  a 
man  who  had  already  been  made  to  suffer  so  much.  Indeed,  Kate's 
very  exclamation,  the  very  tone  in  which  she  spoke,  showed  a  distress 
of  mind  that  arose  from  no  fear  for  one  whom  she  hated  as  she  hated 
Hayne.  Her  anxiety  was  personal.  It  was  for  her  husband  and  for 
herself  she  feared,  or  woman's  tone  and  tongue  never  yet  revealed  a 
secret.  Nellie  Travers  stood  in  her  room  stunned  and  bewildered,  yet 
trying  hard  to  recall  and  put  together  all  the  scattered  stories  and 
rumors  that  had  reached  her  about  the  strange  conduct  of  Clancy 
after  he  was  taken  to  the  hospital, — especially  about  his  heart-broken 
wail  when  told  that  it  was  Lieutenant  Hayne  who  had  rescued  him  and 
little  Kate  from  hideous  death.  Somewhere,  somehow,  this  man  was 
connected  with  the  mystery  which  encircled  the  long-hidden  truth  in 
Vol.  XXXIX.— ub 


762  THE  DESERTER. 

Hayne's  trouble.     Could  it  be  possible  that  he  did  not  realize  it,  and 

that  her  sister  had  discovered  it  ?     Could  it  be oh,  heaven  !  no  I — 

could  it  be  that  Kate  was  standing  between  that  lonely  and  friendless 
man  and  the  revelation  that  would  set  him  right  ?  She  could  not  be- 
lieve it  of  her  !  She  would  not  believe  it  of  her  sister  !  And  yet  what 
did  Kate  mean  by  charging  Mrs.  Clancy  to  watch  him, — that  drunken 
husband  ?  What  could  it  mean  but  that  she  was  striving  to  prevent 
Mr.  Hayne's  ever  hearing  the  truth  ?  She  longed  to  learn  more  and 
solve  the  riddle  once  and  for  all.  They  were  still  earnestly  talking  to- 
gether down  in  the  dining-room  ;  but  she  could  not  listen.  Kate  knew 
her  so  well  that  she  had  not  closed  the  door  leading  into  the  hall,  though 
both  she  and  the  laundress  of  Company  B  had  lowered  their  voices.  It 
was  disgraceful  at  best,  thought  Miss  Travers,  it  was  beneath  her  sister, 
that  she  should  hold  any  private  conversation  with  a  woman  of  that  class. 
Confidences  with  such  were  contamination.  She  half  determined  to 
rush  down-stairs  and  put  an  end  to  it,  but  was  saved  the  scene :  fresh 
young  voices,  hearty  ringing  tones,  and  the  stamp  of  heavy  boot-heels 
were  heard  at  the  door ;  and  as  Rayner  entered,  ushering  in  Royce  and 
Graham,  Mrs.  Rayner  and  the  laundress  fled  once  more  to  the  kitchen. 

When  the  sisters  found  themselves  alone  again,  it  was  late  in  the 
evening.  Mrs.  Rayner  came  to  Nellie's  room  and  talked  on  various 
topics  for  some  little  time,  watching  narrowly  her  sister's  face.  The 
young  girl  hardly  spoke  at  all.  It  was  evident  to  the  elder  what  her 
thoughts  must  be. 

"  I  suppose  you  think  I  should  explain  Mrs.  Clancy's  agitation  and 
mysterious  conduct,  Nellie,"  she  finally  and  suddenly  said. 

"  I  do  not  want  you  to  tell  me  anything,  Kate,  that  you  yourself 
do  not  wish  to  tell  me.  You  understand,  of  course,  how  I  happened 
to  be  there  ?" 

"  Oh,  certainly.  I  wasn't  thinking  of  that.  You  couldn't  help 
hearing  ;  but  you  must  have  thought  it  queer, — her  being  so  agitated,  I 
mean." 

No  answer. 

"  Didn't  you  ?" 

"  I  wasn't  thinking  of  her  at  all." 

"What  did  you  think,  then?"  half  defiantly,  yet  trembling  and 
growing  white. 

"  I  thought  it  strange  that  ycni  should  be  talking  with  her  in  such  a 
way." 

"  She  was  worried  about  her  husband, — his  drinking  so  much, — and 
came  to  consult  me." 

"  Why  should  she — and  you — show  such  consternation  at  his  con- 
nection with  the  name  of  Mr.  Hayne?" 

"  Nellie,  that  matter  is  one  you  know  I  cannot  bear  to  talk  of." 
("  Very  recently  only,"  thought  the  younger.)  "  You  once  asked  me 
to  tell  you  what  Mr.  Hayne's  crime  had  been,  and  I  answered  that 
until  you  could  hear  the  whole  story  you  could  not  understand  the 
matter  at  all.  We  are  both  worried  about  Clancy.  He  is  not  himself; 
he  is  wild  and  imaginative  when  he's  drinkinc;.  He  has  some  strano;e 
fencies  since  the  fire,  and  he  thinks  he  ought  to  do  something  to  help 


THE  DESERTER,  763 

the  officer  because  he  helped  him,  and  his  head  is  full  of  Police  Gazette 
stories,  utterly  without  foundation,  and  he  thinks  he  can  tell  who  the 
real  culprits  were, — or  something  of  that  kind.  It  is  utter  nonsense. 
I  have  investigated  the  whole  thing, — heard  the  whole  story.  It  is 
the  trashiest,  most  impossible  thing  you  ever  dreamed  of,  and  would 
only  make  fearful  trouble  if  Mr.  Hayne  got  hold  of  it." 

"Why?" 

"  Why  f  Because  he  is  naturally  vengeful  and  embittered,  and  he 
would  seize  on  any  pretext  to  make  it  unpleasant  for  the  officers  who 
brought  about  his  trial." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  what  Clancy  says  in  any  way  affects  them  ?" 
asked  Nell,  with  quickening  pulse  and  color. 

"  It  might,  if  there  were  a  word  of  truth  in  it ;  but  it  is  the  maudlin 
dream  of  a  liquor-maddened  brain.  Mrs.  Clancy  and  I  both  know 
that  what  he  says  is  utterly  impossible.  Indeed,  he  tells  no  two  stories 
alike." 

"  Has  he  told  you  anything  ?" 

"  No  ;  but  she  tells  me  everything." 

"  How  do  you  know  she  tells  the  truth  ?" 

"Nellie  !  Why  should  she  deceive  me?  I  have  done  everything 
for  them." 

"  I  distrust  her  all  the  same ;  and  you  had  better  be  warned  in 
time.  If  he  has  any  theory,  no  matter  how  crack-brained,  or  if  he 
knows  anything  about  the  case  and  wants  to  tell  it  to  Mr.  Hayne,  you 
are  the  last  woman  on  earth  who  should  stand  in  the  way." 

"  Upon  my  word,  Nellie  Travers,  this  is  going  too  far !  One 
would  think  you  believed  I  wisii  to  stand  in  the  way  of  that  young 
man's  restoration." 

"  Kate,  if  you  lift  a  hand  or  speak  one  word  to  prevent  Clancy's 
seeing  Mr.  Hayne  and  telling  him  everything  he  knows,  you  will  make 
me  believe — precisely  that." 

Captain  Rayner  heard  sobbing  and  lamentation  on  the  bedroom 
floor  when  he  came  in  a  few  moments  after.  Going  aloft,  he  found 
Miss  Travers's  door  closed  as  usual,  and  his  wife  in  voluble  distress 
of  mind.  He  could  only  learn  that  she  and  Nellie  had  had  a  falling 
out,  and  that  Nell  had  behaved  in  a  most  unjust,  disrespectful,  and  out- 
rageous way.     She  declined  to  give  further  particulars. 


Miss  Travers  had  other  reasons  for  wanting  to  be  alone.  That 
very  afternoon,  just  after  stable-call,  she  found  herself  unoccupied  for 
the  time  being,  and  decided  to  go  over  and  see  Mrs.  Waldron  a  few 
moments.  The  servant  admitted  her  to  the  little  army  parlor,  and 
informed  her  that  Mrs.  Waldron  had  stepped  out,  but  would  be  home 
directly.  A  bright  wood  fire  was  blazing  on  the  hearth  and  throwing 
flickering  lights  and  shadows  about  the  cosey  room.  The  piano  stood 
invitingly  open,  and  on  the  rack  were  some  waltzes  of  Strauss  she  re- 
membered having  heard  the  cavalry  band  play  a  night  or  two  previous. 
Seating  herself,  she  began  to  try  them,  and  speedily  became  interested. 


764  ^-^^  DESERTER. 

Her  back  being  to  the  door,  she  did  not  notice  that  another  visitor  was 
soon  ushered  in, — a  man.  She  continued  slowly  "  picking  out"  the 
melody,  for  the  light  was  growing  dim  and  it  was  with  difficulty  that 
she  could  distinguish  the  notes.  Twice  she  essayed  a  somewhat  com- 
plicated passage,  became  entangled,  bent  down  and  closely  scanned  the 
music,  began  again,  once  more  became  involved,  exclaimed  impatiently, 
"  How  absurd  !"  and  whirled  about  on  the  piano-stool,  to  find  herself 
facing  Mr.  Hayne. 

Now  that  the  bandage  was  removed  from  his  eyes  it  was  no  such 
easy  matter  to  meet  him.  Her  sweet  face  flushed  instantly  as  he  bent 
low  and  spoke  her  name. 

''  I  had  no  idea  any  one  was  here.  It  quite  startled  me,"  she 
said,  as  she  withdrew  from  his  the  hand  she  had  mechanically  ex- 
tended to  him. 

"  It  was  my  hope  not  to  interrupt  you,"  he  answered,  in  the  low, 
gentle  voice  she  had  marked  before.  "  You  helped  me  when  my 
music  was  all  adrift  the  other  night :  may  I  not  help  you  find  some 
of  this  ?" 

"  I  wish  you  would  play,  Mr.  Hayne." 

"  I  will  play  for  you  gladly.  Miss  Travers,  but  waltz-music  is  not 
my  forte.  Let  me  see  what  else  there  is  here."  And  he  began  turning 
over  the  sheets  on  the  stand. 

"  Are  your  eyes  well  enough  to  read  music, — especially  in  such  a 
dim  light?"  she  asked,  with  evident  sympathy. 

"  My  eyes  are  doing  very  well, — better  than  my  fingers,  in  fact, — 
and,  as  I  rarely  play  by  note  after  I  once  learn  a  piece,  the  eyes  make 
no  diiference.  What  music  do  you  like?  I  merely  looked  at  this  col- 
lection thinking  you  might  see  something  that  pleased  you." 

"  Mrs.  Ray  told  me  you  played  Rubinstein  so  well, — that  melody 
in  F,  for  one." 

"  Did  Mrs.  Ray  speak  of  that  ?" — his  face  brightening.  "  I'm  glad 
they  found  anything  to  enjoy  in  my  music." 

"'They'  found  a  great  deal,  Mr.  Hayne,  and  there  are  a  number 
who  are  envious  of  their  good  fortune, — I,  for  one,"  she  answered, 
blithely.  "  Now  play  for  me.  Mrs.  Waldron  will  be  here  in  a 
minute." 

And  when  Mrs.  Waldron  came  in,  a  little  later,  Miss  Travers,  seated 
in  an  easy-chair  and  looking  intently  into  the  blaze,  was  listening  as 
intently  to  the  soft,  rich  melodies  that  Mr.  Hayne  was  playing.  Tiie 
firelight  was  flickering  on  her  shining  hair;  one  slender  white  hand 
was  toying  with  the  locket  that  hung  at  her  throat,  the  other  gently 
tapping  on  the  arm  of  the  chair  in  unison  with  the  music.  And  Mr. 
Hayne,  seated  in  the  shadow,  bent  slightly  over  the  key-board,  absorbed 
in  his  pleasant  task,  and  playing  as  though  all  his  soul  were  thrilling  in 
his  finger-tips.  Mrs.  Waldron  stood  in  silence  at  the  door-way,  watch- 
ing the  unconscious  pair  with  an  odd  yet  comforted  expression  in  her 
eyes.  At  last,  in  one  long,  sweet,  sighing  chord,  the  melody  softly 
died  away,  and  Mr.  Hayne  slowly  turned  and  looked  upon  the  girl. 
She  seemed  to  have  wandered  off"  into  dream-land.  For  a  moment  there 
was  no  sound ;  then,  with  a  little  shivering  sigh,  she  roused  herself. 


THE  DESERTER.  7g5 

"  It  is  simply  exquisite,"  she  said.  "  You  have  given  me  such  a 
treat !" 

"  I'm  glad.    I  owe  you  a  great  deal  more  pleasure,  Miss  Travers." 

Mrs.  Waldron  hereat  elevated  her  eyebrows.  She  would  have 
slipped  away  if  she  could,  but  she  was  a  woman  of  substance,  and  as 
solid  in  flesh  as  she  was  warm  of  heart.  She  did  the  only  thing  left 
to  her, — came  cordially  forward  to  welcome  her  two  visitors  and  ex- 
press her  delight  that  Miss  Travers  could  have  an  opportunity  of  hear- 
ing Mr.  Hayne  play.  She  soon  succeeded  in  starting  him  again,  and 
shortly  thereafter  managed  to  slip  out  unnoticed.  When  he  turned 
around  a  few  minutes  afterwards,  she  had  vanished. 

"  Why,  I  had  no  idea  she  was  gone  !"  exclaimed  Miss  Travers ;  and 
then  the  color  mounted  to  her  brow.  He  must  think  her  extremely 
absorbed  in  his  playing ;  and  so  indeed  she  was. 

"  You  are  very  fond  of  music,  I  see,"  he  said,  at  a  venture. 

"  Yes,  very ;  but  I  play  very  little  and  very  badly.  Pardon  me, 
Mr.  Hayne,  but  you  have  played  many  years,  have  you  not  ?" 

"  Not  so  very  many ;  but there  have  been  many  in  which  I  had 

little  else  to  do  but  practise." 

She  reddened  again.  It  was  so  unlike  him,  she  thought,  to  refer  to 
.that  matter  in  speaking  to  her.     He  seemed  to  read  her : 

"  I  speak  of  it  only  that  I  may  say  to  you  again  what  I  began  just 
before  Mrs.  Waldron  came.  You  gave  me  no  opportunity  to  thank 
you  the  other  night,  and  I  may  not  have  another.  You  do  not  know 
what  an  event  in  my  life  that  meeting  with  you  was ;  and  you  cannot 
know  how  I  have  gone  over  your  words  again  and  again.  Forgive  me 
the  embarrassment  I  see  I  cause  you,  Miss  Travers.  We  are  so  un- 
likely to  meet  at  all  that  you  can  afford  to  indulge  me  this  once."  He 
was  smiling  so  gravely,  sadly,  now,  and  had  risen  and  was  standing  by 
her  as  she  sat  there  in  the  big  easy-chair,  still  gazing  into  the  fire,  but 
listening  for  his  ev^ery  word.  "  In  five  long  yeai's  I  have  heard  no 
words  from  a  woman's  lips  that  gave  me  such  joy  and  comfort  as  those 
you  spoke  so  hurriedly  and  without  premeditation.  Only  those  who 
know  anything  of  what  my  past  has  been  could  form  any  idea  of  the 
emotion  with  which  I  heard  you.  If  I  could  not  have  seen  you  to  say 
how — how  I  thanked  you,  I  would  have  had  to  write.  This  explains 
what  I  said  awhile  ago  :  I  owe  you  more  pleasure  than  I  can  ever  give. 
But  one  thing  was  certain :  I  could  not  bear  the  idea  that  you  should 
not  be  told,  and  by  me,  how  grateful  your  words  were  to  me, — how 
grateful  I  was  to  you.     Again,  may  God  bless  you  !" 

And  now  he  turned  abruptly  away,  awaiting  no  answer,  reseated 
himself  at  the  piano  and  retouched  the  keys.  But,  though  she  sat 
motionless  and  speechless,  she  knew  that  he  had  been  trembling  so 
violently  and  that  his  hands  were  still  so  tremulous  he  could  play  no 
more.  It  was  some  minutes  that  they  sat  thus,  neither  speaking ;  and 
as  he  regained  his  self-control  and  began  to  attempt  some  simple  little 
melodies,  Mrs.  Waldron  returned  : 

"  How  very  domestic  you  look,  young  people  !  Shall  we  light  the 
lamps  ?" 

"  I've  stayed  too  long  already,"  said  Miss  Travers,  springing  to  her 


766  THE  DESERTER. 

feet.  "  Kate  does  not  know  I'm  out,  and  will  be  wondering  what  has 
become  of  her  sister."  She  laughed  nervously.  "  Thank  you  so  much 
for  the  music,  Mr.  Hayne ! — Forgive  my  running  oif  so  suddenly,  won't 
you,  Mrs.  Waldron  ?"  she  asked,  pleadingly,  as  she  put  her  hand  in 
hers  ;  and  as  her  hostess  reassured  her  she  bent  and  kissed  the  girl's 
flushed  cheek.  Mr.  Hayne  was  still  standing  patiently  by  the  centre- 
table.  Once  more  she  turned,  and  caught  his  eye,  flushed,  half  hesitated, 
then  held  out  her  hand  with  quick  impulse  : 

"  Good-evening,  Mr.  Hayne.     I  shall  hope  to  hear  you  play  again." 

And,  with  pulses  throbbing,  and  cheeks  that  still  burned,  she  ran 
quickly  down  the  line  to  Captain  Rayner's  quarters,  and  was  up-stairs 
and  in  her  room  in  another  minute. 

This  was  an  interview  she  would  find  it  hard  to  tell  to  Kate.  But 
told  it  was,  partially,  and  she  was  sitting  now,  late  at  night,  hearing 
through  her  closed  door  her  sister's  unmusical  lamentations, — hearing 
still  ringing  in  her  ears  the  reproaches  heaped  upon  her  when  that 
sister  was  quietly  told  that  she  and  Mr.  Hayne  had  met  twice.  And 
now  she  was  sitting  there,  true  to  herself  and  her  resolution,  telling  Mr. 
Van  Antwerp  all  about  it.  Can  one  conjecture  the  sensations  with 
which  he  received  and  read  that  letter  ? 

Mr.  Hayne,  too,  was  having  a  wakeful  night.  He  had  gone  to 
Mrs.  Waldron's  to  pay  a  dinner-call,  with  the  result  just  told.  He 
had  one  or  two  other  visits  to  make  among  the  cavalry  households  in 
garrison,  but,  after  a  few  moments'  chat  with  Mrs.  Waldron,  he  decided 
that  he  preferred  going  home.  Sam  had  to  call  three  times  before  Mr. 
Hayne  obeyed  the  summons  to  dinner  that  evening.  The  sun  was  going 
down  behind  the  great  range  to  the  southwest,  and  the  trumpets  were 
pealing  "  retreat"  on  the  frosty  air,  but  Hayne's  curtains  were  drawn, 
and  he  was  sitting  before  his  fire,  deep  in  thought,  hearing  nothing. 
The  doctor  came  in  soon  after  he  finished  his  solitary  dinner,  chatted 
with  him  awhile,  and  smoked  away  at  his  pipe.  He  wanted  to  talk 
with  Hayne  about  some  especial  matter,  and  he  found  it  hard  work  to 
begin.  The  more  he  saw  of  his  patient  the  better  he  liked  him  :  he 
was  interested  in  him,  and  had  been  making  inquiries.  Without  his 
pipe  he  found  himself  uninspired. 

'.'  Mr.  Hayne,  if  you  will  permit,  I'll  fill  up  and  blow  another 
cloud.     Didn't  you  ever  smoke  ?" 

"  Yes.     I  was  very  fond  of  my  cigar  six  or  seven  years  ago." 

"  And  you  gave  it  up  ?"  asked  the  doctor,  tugging  away  at  the 
strings  of  his  little  tobacco-pouch. 

"  I  gave  up  everything  that  was  not  an  absolute  necessity,"  said 
Hayne,  calmly.  "  Until  I  could  get  free  of  a  big  load  there  was  no 
comfort  in  anything.  After  that  was  gone  I  had  no  more  use  for  such 
old  friends  than  certain  other  old  friends  seemed  to  have  for  me.  It 
was  a  mutual  cut." 

"  To  the  best  of  my  belief,  you  were  the  gainer  in  both  cases,"  said 
the  doctor,  gruffly.  "  The  longer  I  live  the  more  I  agree  with  Carlyle  : 
the  men  we  live  and  move  with  are  mostly  fools," 

Hayne's  face  was  as  grave  and  quiet  as  ever  : 

"  These  are  hard  lessons  to  learn,  doctor.     I  presume  few  young 


»  THE  DESERTER.  767 

fellows  thought  more  of  human  friendship  than  I  did  the  first  two  years 
I  was  in  service." 

"  Hayne,"  said  the  doctor,  "  sometimes  I  have  thought  you  did  not 
want  to  talk  about  this  matter  to- any  soul  on  earth  ;  but  I  am  speaking 
from  no  empty  curiosity  now.  If  you  forbid  it,  I  shall  not  intrude ; 
but  there  are  some  questions  that,  since  knowing  you,  and  believing  in 
you  as  I  unquestionably  do,  I  would  like  to  ask.  You  seem  bent  on 
returning  to  duty  here  t«-morrow,  though  you  might  stay  on  sick  report 
ten  days  yet ;  and  I  want  to  stand  between  you  and  the  possibility  of 
annoyance  and  trouble  if  I  can." 

"  You  are  kind,  and  I  appreciate  it,  doctor ;  but  do  you  think  that 
the  colonel  is  a  man  who  will  be  apt  to  let  me  suiFer  injustice  at  the 
hands  of  any  one  here?" 

"  I  don't,  indeed.  He  is  full  of  sympathy  for  you,  and  I  know  he 
means  you  shall  have  fair  play ;  but  a  company  commander  has  as 
many  and  as  intangible  ways  of  making  a  man  suffer  as  has  a  woman. 
How  do  you  stand  with  Rayner  ?" 

"  Precisely  where  I  stood  five  years  ago.  He  is  the  most  determined 
enemy  I  have  in  the  service,  and  will  down  me  if  he  can ;  but  I  have 
learned  a  good  deal  in  my  time.  There  is  a  grim  sort  of  comfort  now 
in  knowing  that  while  he  would  gladly  trip  me  I  can  make  him  miser- 
able by  being  too  strong  for  him." 

"  You  still  hold  the  same  theory  as  to  his  evidence  you  did  at  the 
time  of  the  court  ?  of  course  I  have  heard  what  you  said  to  and  of 
him." 

"  I  have  never  changed  in  that  respect." 

"  But  supposing  that — mind  you,  I  believe  he  was  utterly  mistaken 
in  what  he  thought  he  heard  and  saw, — supposing  that  all  that  was 
testified  to  by  him  actually  occurred,  have  you  any  theory  that  would 
point  out  the  real  criminal  ?" 

"  Only  one.  If  that  money  was  ever  handed  me  that  day  at  Battle 
Butte,  only  one  man  could  have  made  away  with  it ;  and  it  is  useless 
to  charge  it  to  him." 

"  You  mean  Rayner?" 

"  I  have  to  mean  Rayner." 

"  But  you  claim  it  never  reached  you  ?" 

"  Certainly." 

"  Yet  every  other  package — memoranda  and  all — was  handed  you?" 

"  Not  only  that,  but  Captain  Hull  handed  me  the  money-packet 
with  the  others, — took  them  all  from  his  saddle-bags  just  before  the 
charge.  The  packet  was  sealed  when  he  gave  it  to  me,  and  when  I 
broke  the  seal  it  was  stuffed  Avith  worthless  blanks." 

"  And  you  have  never  suspected  a  soldier, — a  single  messenger  or 
servant  ?" 

"  Not  one.     Whom  could  I  ?" 

"  Hayne,  had  you  any  knowledge  of  this  man  Clancy  before  ?" 

"  Clancy  !     The  drunken  fellow  we  pulled  out  of  the  fire  ?" 

"  The  same." 

"  No ;  never  to  my  knowledge  saw  or  heard  of  him,  except  when 
he  appeared  as  witness  at  the  court." 


7g8  ^^^  DESERTER. 

"  Yet  he  was  with  the  — th  Cavahy  at  that  very  fight  at  Battle 
Butte.     He  was  a  sergeant  then,  though  not  in  Hull's  troop." 

"  Does  he  say  he  knew  me  ?  or  does  he  talk  of  that  affair  ?"  asked 
the  lieutenant,  with  sudden  interest. 

"  Not  that.  He  cannot  be  said  to  say  anything ;  but  he  was  won- 
derfully affected  over  your  rescuing  him, — strangely  so,  one  of  the 
nurses  persists  in  telling  me,  though  the  steward  and  Mrs.  Clancy  de- 
clare it  was  just  drink  and  excitement.  Still,  I  have  drawn  from  him 
that  he  knew  you  well  by  sight  during  that  campaign ;  but  he  says  he 
was  not  by  when  Hull  was  killed." 

"  Does  he  act  as  though  he  knew  anything  that  could  throw  any 
light  on  the  matter  ?" 

"  I  cannot  say.  His  wife  declares  he  has  been  queer  all  winter, — 
hard  drinking, — and  of  course  that  is  possible." 

"  Sam  told  me  there  was  a  soldier  here  two  nights  ago  who  M'anted 
to  talk  with  me,  but  the  man  was  drunk,  and  he  would  not  let  him  in 
or  tell  me.     He  thought  he  wanted  to  borrow  money." 

"  I  declare,  I  believe  it  was  Clancy !"  said  the  doctor.  "  If  he 
wants  to  see  you  and  talk,  let  him.  There's  no  telling  but  what  even 
a  drink-racked  brain  may  bring  the  matter  to  light." 

And  long  that  night  Mr.  Hayne  sat  there  thinking,  partly  of  what 
the  doctor  had  said,  but  more  of  what  had  occurred  during  the  late 
afternoon.  Midnight  was  called  by  the  sentries.  He  went  to  his  door 
and  looked  out  on  the  broad,  bleak  prairie,  the  moonlight  glinting  on 
the  tin  roofing  of  the  patch  of  buildings  over  at  the  station  far  across 
the  dreary  level  and  glistening  on  the  patches  of  snow  that  here  and 
there  streaked  the  surface.  It  was  all  so  cold  and  calm  and  still.  His 
blood  was  hot  and  fevered.  Something  invited  him  into  the  peace  and 
purity  of  the  night.  He  threw  on  his  overcoat  and  furs,  and  strolled 
up  to  the  gateway,  past  the  silent  and  deserted  store,  whose  lighted  bar 
and  billiard-room  was  generally  the  last  thing  to  close  along  Prairie 
Avenue.  There  was  not  a  glimmer  of  light  about  the  quarters  of  the 
trader  or  the  surgeon's  beyond.  One  or  two  faint  gleams  stole  through 
the  blinds  at  the  big  hospital,  and  told  of  the  n'ight-watch  by  some 
fevered  bedside.  He  passed  on  around  the  fence  and  took  a  path  that 
led  to  the  target-range^  north  of  the  post  and  back  of  officers'  row, 
thinking  deeply  all  the  while ;  and  finally,  re-entering  the  garrison  by 
the  west  gate,  he  came  down  along  the  hard  gravelled  walk  that  passed 
in  circular  sweeps  the  offices  and  the  big  house  of  the  colonel  com- 
manding and  then  bore  straight  away  in  front  of  the  entire  line.  All 
was  darkness  and  quiet.  He  passed  in  succession  the  houses  of  the 
field-officers  of  the  cavalry,  looked  longingly  at  the  darkened  front  of 
Major  Waldron's  cottage,  where  he  had  lived  so  sweet  an  hour  before 
the  setting  of  the  last  sun,  then  w^ent  on  again  and  paused  surprised  in 
front  of  Captain  Rayner's.  A  bright  light  was  still  burning  in  the 
front  room  on  the  second  floor.  Was  she,  too,  awake  and  thinking  of 
that  interview?  He  looked  wistfully  at  the  lace  curtains  that  shrouded 
the  interior,  and  then  the  clank  of  a  cavalry  sabre  sounded  in  his  ears, 
and  a  tall  officer  came  springily  across  the  road. 

"  Who  the  devil's  that  ?"  was  the  blunt  military  greeting. 


THE  DESERTER.  709 

"  Mr.  Hayne,"  was  the  quiet  reply. 

"What?  Mr.  Hayue?  Oh!  Beg  your  pardon,  man, — couldn't 
imagine  who  it  was  mooning  around  out  here  after  midnight." 

"  I  don't  wonder,"  answered  Hayne.  "  I  am  rather  given  to  late 
hours,  and  after  reading  a  long  time  I  often  take  a  stroll  before  turn- 
ing in." 

"Ah,  yes  :  I  see.  Well,  won't  you  drop  in  and  chat  awhile  ?  I'm 
officer  of  the  day,  and  have  to  owl  to-night." 

"  Thanks,  no,  not  this  time ;  I  must  go  to  bed.  Good-night,  Mr. 
Blake." 

"  Good-night  to  you,  Mr.  Hayne,"  said  Blake,  then  stood  gazing 
perplexedly  after  him.  "  Now,  my  fine  fellow,"  was  his  dissatisfied 
query,  "  what  on  earth  do  you  mean  by  prowling  around  Rayuer's 
at  this  hour  of  the  night  ?" 

XI. 

It  was  very  generally  known  throughout  Fort  Warrener  by  ten 
o'clock  on  the  following  morning  that  Mr.  Hayne  had  returned  to  duty 
and  was  one  of  the  first  officers  to  appear  at  the  matinee.  Once  more 
the  colonel  had  risen  from  his  chair,  taken  him  by  the  hand,  and  wel- 
comed him.  This  time  he  expressed  the  hope  that  nothing  would  now 
occur  to  prevent  their  seeing  him  daily. 

"  Won't  you  come  in  to  the  club-room  ?"  asked  Captain  Gregg, 
afterwards.     "  We  will  be  pleased  to  have  you." 

"  Excuse  me,  captain,  I  shall  be  engaged  all  morning,"  answered 
Mr.  Hayne,  and  walked  on  down  the  row.  Nearly  all  tlie  officers  were 
strolling  away  in  groups  of  three  or  four.  Hayne  walked  past  them 
all  with  quick,  soldierly  step  and  almost  aggressive  manner,  and  was 
soon  far  ahead,  all  by  himself.  Finding  it  an  unprofitable  subject, 
there  had  been  little  talk  between  the  two  regiments  as  to  what  Mr. 
Hayne's  status  should  be  on  his  reappearance.  Everybody  heard  that 
he  had  somewhat  rudely  spurned  the  advances  of  Ross  and  his  com- 
panions. Indeed,  Ross  had  told  the  story  with  strong  coloring  to  more 
than  half  the  denizens  of  officers'  row.  Evidently  he  desired  no  further 
friendship  or  intercourse  with  his  brother  blue-straps ;  and  only  a  few 
of  the  cavalry  officers  found  his  society  attractive.  He  played  de- 
lightfully ;  he  was  well  read  ;  but  in  general  talk  he  was  not  entertain- 
ing. "  Altogether  too  sepulchral, — or  at  least  funereal,"  explained  the 
cavalry.  "  He  never  laughs,  and  rarely  smiles,  and  he's  as  glum  as  a 
Quaker  meeting,"  was  another  complaint.  So  a  social  success  was 
hardly  to  be  predicted  for  Mr.  Hayne. 

While  he  could  not  be  invited  where  just  a  few  infantry  people 
were  the  other  guests,  from  a  big  general  gathering  or  party  he,  of 
course,  could  not  be  omitted ;  but  there  he  would  have  his  cavalry  and 
medical  friends  to  talk  to,  and  then  there  was  Major  Waldron.  It  was 
a  grievous  pity  that  there  should  be  such  an  element  of  embarrassment, 
but  it  couldn't  be  helped.  As  the  regimental  adjutant  had  said,  Hayne 
himself  was  the  main  obstacle  to  his  restoration  to  regimental  friend- 
ship.    No  man  who  j)iques  himself  on  the  belief  that  he  is  about  to  do 


770  ^^^  DESERTER. 

a  virtuous  and  praiseworthy  act  will  be  apt  to  persevere  when  the  ob- 
ject of  his  benevolence  treats  him  with  cold  contempt.  If  Mr.  Hayue 
saw  fit  to  repudiate  the  civilities  a  few  oiBcers  essayed  to  extend  to  him, 
no  others  would  subject  themselves  to  similar  rebuffs ;  and  if  he  could 
stand  the  status  quo,  why,  the  regiment  could ;  and  that,  said  the  Riflers, 
was  the  end  of  the  matter. 

But  it  was  not  the  end,  by  a  good  deal.  Some  few  of  the  ladies  of 
the  infantry,  actuated  by  Mrs.  Rayner's  vehement  exposition  of  the 
case,  had  aligned  themselves  on  her  side  as  against  the  post  commander, 
and  by  their  general  conduct  sought  to  convey  to  the  colonel  and  to  the 
ladies  who  were  present  at  the  first  dinner  given  Mr.  Hayne  thorough 
disapproval  of  their  course.  This  put  the  cavalry  people  on  their  mettle 
and  led  to  a  division  in  the  garrison ;  and  as  Major  Waldron  was,  in 
Mrs.  Rayner's  eyes,  equally  culpable  with  the  colonel,  it  so  resulted  that 
two  or  three  infantry  households,  together  with  some  unmarried  subal- 
terns, were  arrayed  socially  against  their  own  battalion  commander 
as  well  as  against  the  grand  panjandrum  at  post  head-quarters.  If  it 
had  not  been  for  the  determined  attitude  of  Mr.  Hayne  himself,  the 
garrison  might  speedily  have  been  resolved  into  two  parties, — Hayne 
and  anti-Hayne  sympathizers ;  but  the  whole  bearing  of  that  young 
man  was  fiercely  repellent  of  sympathy :  he  would  have  none  of  it. 
"  Hayne's  position,"  said  Major  Waldron,  "  is  practically  this :  he 
holds  that  no  man  who  has  borne  himself  as  he  has  during  these  five 
years — denied  himself  everything  that  he  might  make  up  every  cent 
that  was  lost,  though  he  was  in  no  wise  responsible  for  the  loss — could 
by  any  possibility  have  been  guilty  of  the  charges  on  which  he  was 
tried.  From  this  he  will  not  abate  one  jot  or  tittle ;  and  he  refuses 
now  to  restore  to  his  friendship  the  men  who  repudiated  him  in  his 
years  of  trouble,  except  on  their  profession  of  faith  in  his  entire  inno- 
cence." Now,  this  was  something  the  cavalry  could  not  do  without 
some  impeachment  of  the  evidence  W'hich  was  heaped  up  against  the 
poor  fellow  at  the  time  of  the  trial ;  and  it  was  something  the  infantry 
would  not  do,  because  thereby  they  would  virtually  pronounce  one  at 
least  of  their  own  officers  to  have  repeatedly  anil  persistently  given 
false  testimony.  In  the  case  of  Waldron  and  the  cavalry,  however,  it 
was  possible  for  Hayne  to  return  their  calls  of  courtesy,  because  they, 
having  never  "  sent  him  to  Coventry,"  received  him  precisely  as  they 
would  receive  any  other  officer.  AVith  the  Riflers  it  was  different : 
having  once  "  cut"  him  as  though  by  unanimous  accord,  and  having 
taught  the  young  officers  joining  year  after  year  to  regard  him  as  a 
criminal,  they  could  be  restored  to  Mr.  Hayne's  friendship,  as  has  been 
said  before,  only  "  on  confession  of  error."  Buxton  and  two  or  three 
of  his  stamp  called  or  lefl  their  cards  on  Mr.  Hayne  because  their 
colonel  had  so  done ;  but  precisely  as  the  ceremony  was  performed,  just 
so  was  it  returned.  Buxton  was  red  with  wrath  over  what  he  termed 
Hayne's  conceited  and  supercilious  manner  when  returning  his  call : 
'*I  called  upon  him  like  a  gentleman,  by  thunder,  just  to  let  him 
understand  I  wanted  to  help  him  out  of  the  mire,  and  told  him  if  there 
was  anything  I  could  do  for  him  that  a  gentleman  could  do,  not  to 
hesitate  about  letting  me  know ;  and  when  he  came  to  my  house  to-day, 


THE  DESERTER.  77I 

damned  if  he  didn't  patronize  me! — talked  to  me  about  the  Plevna  siege, 
and  wanted  to  discuss  Gourko  and  the  Balkans  or  some  other  fool  thing  : 
what  in  thunder  have  I  to  do  with  campaigns  in  Turkey  ? — and  I  thought 
he  meant  those  nigger  soldiers  the  British  have  in  India, — Goorkhas, 
I  know  now, — and  I  did  tell  him  it  was  an  awful  blunder,  that  only  a 
Russian  would  make,  to  take  those  Sepoy  fellows  and  put  'era  into  a 
winter  campaign.  Of  course  I  hadn't  been  booking  up  the  subject,  and 
he  had,  and  sprung  it  on  me ;  and  then,  by  gad,  as  he  was  going,  he  said 
he  had  books  and  maps  he  would  lend  me,  and  if  there  was  anything  he 
could  do  for  me  that  a  gentleman  could  do,  not  to  hesitate  about  asking. 
Damn  his  impudence  !" 

Poor  Buxton  !  One  of  his  idiosyncrasies  was  to  talk  wisely  to  the 
juniors  on  the  subject  of  European  campaigns  and  to  criticise  the  moves 
of  generals  whose  very  names  and  centuries  were  entangling  snares. 
His  own  subalterns  were,  unfortunately  for  him,  at  the  house  when 
Hayne  called,  and  when  he,  as  was  his  wont,  began  to  expound  on 
current  military  topics.  "A  little  learning,"  even,  he  had  not,  and  the 
dangerous  thing  that  that  would  have  been  was  supplanted  by  some- 
thing quite  as  bad,  if  not  worse.  He  was  trapped  and  thrown  by  the 
quiet-mannered  infantry  subaltern,  and  it  was  all  Messrs.  Freeman  and 
Royce  could  do  to  restrain  their  impulse  to  rush  after  Hayne  and 
embrace  him.  Buxton  was  cordially  detested  by  his  "  subs,"  and  well 
knew  they  would  tell  the  story  of  his  defeat,  so  he  made  a  virtue  of 
necessity  and  came  out  with  his  own  version.  Theirs  was  far  more 
ludicrous,  and,  Mobile  it  made  Mr.  Hayne  famous,  he  gained  another 
enemy.  The  — th  could  not  fail  to  notice  how  soon  after  that  all 
social  recognition  ceased  between  their  bulky  captain  and  the  pale, 
slender  subaltern ;  and  Mrs.  Buxton  and  Mrs.  Rayner  became  suddenly 
infatuated  with  each  other,  while  their  lords  were  seldom  seen  except 
together. 

All  this  time,  however,  Miss  Travers  was  making  friends  through- 
out iho.  garrison.  No  one  ever  presumed  to  discuss  the  Hayne  aifair  in 
her  presence,  because  of  her  relationship  to  the  Rayners ;  and  yet  Mrs. 
Waldron  had  told  several  people  how  delightfully  she  and  Mr.  Hayne 
had  spent  an  afternoon  together.  Did  not  Mrs.  Rayner  declare  that  Mrs. 
Waldron  was  a  woman  who  told  everything  she  knew,  or  words  to  that 
effect  ?  It  is  safe  to  say  that  the  garrison  was  greatly  interested  in  the 
story.  How  strange  it  was  that  he  should  have  had  a  Ute-d.-tete  with 
the  sister  of  his  bitterest  foe!  When  did  they  meet?  Had  they  met 
since  ?  Would  they  meet  again  ?  All  these  were  questions  eagerly 
discussed,  yet  never  asked  of  the  parties  themselves,  Mr.  Hayne's  repu- 
tation for  snubbing  people  standing  him  in  excellent  stead,  and  Miss 
Travers's  quiet  dignity  and  reserve  of  manner  being  too  much  for  those 
who  would  have  given  a  good  deal  to  gain  her  confidence.  But  there 
was  Mrs.  Rayner.  She,  at  least,  with  all  her  high  and  mighty  ways, 
was  no  unapproachable  creature  when  it  came  to  finding  out  what  she 
thought  of  other  people's  conduct.  So  half  a  dozen,  at  least,  had  more 
or  less  confidentially  asked  if  she  knew  of  Mr.  Hayne  and  Miss 
Travers's  meeting.  Indeed  she  did  !  and  she  had  given  Nellie  her 
opinion  of  her  conduct  very  decidedly.     It  was  Captain  Rayner  him- 


772  THE   DESERTER. 

self  who  interposed,  she  said,  and  forbade  her  upbraiding  Nellie  any 
further.  Nellie  being  either  in  an  adjoining  room  or  up  in  her  own 
on  several  occasions  when  these  queries  were  propounded  to  her  sister, 
it  goes  without  saying  that  that  estimable  woman,  after  the  manner 
of  her  sex,  had  elevated  her  voice  in  responding,  so  that  there  was 
no  possibility  of  the  wicked  girl's  failing  to  get  the  full  benefit  of 
the  scourging  she  deserved.  Rayner  had,  indeed,  positively  forbidden 
her  further  rebuking  Nellie ;  but  the  man  does  not  live  who  can  prevent 
one  woman's  punishing  another  so  long  as  she  can  get  within  earshot, 
and  Miss  Travers  was  paying  dearly  for  her  independence. 

It  cannot  be  estimated  just  how  great  a  disappointment  her  visit  to 
the  frontier  was  proving  to  that  young  lady,  -simply  because  she  kept 
her  own  counsel.  There  were  women  in  the  garrison  who  longed  to 
take  her  to  their  hearts  and  homes,  she  was  so  fresh  and  pure  and  sweet 
and  winning,  they  said ;  but  how  could  they,  when  her  sister  would 
recognize  them  only  by  the  coldest  possible  nod?  Nellie  was  not 
happy,  that  was  certain,  though  she  made  no  complaint,  and  though 
the  young  officers  who  were  daily  her  devotees  declared  she  was  bright 
and  attractive  as  she  could  be.  There  were  still  frequent  dances  and 
parties  in  the  garrison,  but  March  was  nearly  spent,  and  the  weather 
had  been  so  vile  and  blustering  that  they  could  not  move  beyond  the 
limits  of  the  post.  April  might  bring  a  change  for  the  better  in  the 
weather,  but  Miss  Travers  wondered  how  it  could  better  her  position. 

It  is  hard  for  a  woman  of  spirit  to  be  materially  dependent  on  any 
one,  and  Miss  Travers  was  virtually  dependent  on  her  brother-in-law. 
The  little  share  of  her  father's  hard  savings  was  spent  on  her  education. 
Once  free  from  school,  she  was  bound  to  another  apprenticeship,  and 
sister  Kate,  though  indulgent,  fond,  and  proud,  lost  no  opportunity  of 
telling  her  how  much  she  owed  to  Captain  Rayner.  It  got  to  be  a 
fearful  weight  before  the  first  summer  was  well  over.  It  was  the  main 
secret  of  her  acceptance  of  Mr.  Van  Antwerp.  And  now,  until  she 
would  consent  to  name  the  day  that  should  bind  her  for  life  to  him, 
she  had  no  home  but  such  as  Kate  Rayner  could  offer  her ;  and  Kate 
was  bitterly  offended  at  her.  There  was  jus^  one  chajice  to  end  it  now 
and  forever,  and  to  relieve  her  sister  and  the  captain  of  the  burden  of 
her  support.  Could  she  make  up  her  mind  to  do  it?  And  Mr.  Van 
Antwerp  offered  the  opportunity. 

So  far  from  breaking  with  her,  as  she  half  expected, — so  far  from 
being  even  angry  and  reproachful  on  receiving  the  letter  she  had  written 
telling  him  all  about  her  meetings  with  Mr.  Hayne, — he  had  written 
again  and  again,  reproaching  himself  for  his  doubts  and  fears,  begging 
her  forgiveness  for  having  written  and  telegraphed  to  Kate,  humbling 
himself  before  her  in  the  most  abject  way,  and  imploring  her  to  recon- 
sider her  determination  and  to  let  him  write  to  Captain  and  Mrs.  Ray- 
ner to  return  to  their  Eastern  home  at  once,  that  the  marriage  might 
take  place  forthwith  and  he  could  bear  her  away  to  Europe  in  May. 
Letter  after  letter  came,  eager,  imploring,  full  of  tenderest  love  and 
devotion,  full  of  the  saddest  apprehension,  never  reproaching,  never 
doubting,  never  commanding  or  restraining.  The  man  had  found  the 
way  to  touch  a  woman  of  her  generous  nature :  he  had  left  all  to  her ; 


THE  DESERTER.  773 

he  was  at  her  mercy ;  and  she  knew  well  that  he  loved  her  fervently 
and  that  to  lose  her  would  wellnigh  break  his  heart.  Could  she  say 
the  word  and  be  free  ?  Surely,  as  this  man's  wife  there  would  be  no 
serfdom ;  and,  yet,  could  she  wed  a  man  for  whom  she  felt  no  spark  of 
love? 

They  went  down  to  the  creek  one  fine  morning  early  in  April. 
There  had  been  a  sudden  thaw  of  the  snows  up  the  gorges  of  the 
Rockies,  and  the  stream  had  overleaped  its  banks,  spread  over  the  low- 
lands, and  flooded  some  broad  depressions  in  the  prairie.  Then,  capri- 
cious as  a  woman's  moods,  the  wind  whistled  around  from  the  north 
one  night  and  bound  the  lakelets  in  a  band  of  ice.  The  skating  was 
gorgeous,  and  all  the  pretty  ankles  on  the  post  were  rejoicing  in  the 
opportunity  before  the  setting  of  another  sun.  Coming  homeward  at 
luncheon-time,  Mrs.  Rayner,  Mrs.  Buxton,  IVIiss  Travers,  and  one  or 
two  others,  escorted  by  a  squad  of  bachelors,  strolled  somewhat  slowly 
along  Prairie  Avenue  towards  the  gate.  It  so  happened  that  the 
married  ladies  were  foremost  in  the  little  party,  when  who  should 
meet  them  but  Mr.  Hayne,  coming  from  the  east  gate  !  Mrs.  Rayner 
and  Mrs.  Buxton,  though  passing  him  almost  elbow  to  elbow,  looked 
straight  ahead  or  otherwise  avoided  his  eye.  He  raised  his  forage-cap 
in  general  acknowledgment  of  the  presence  of  ladies  with  the  officers, 
but  glanced  coldly  from  one  to  the  other  until  his  blue  eyes  lighted  on 
Miss  Travers.  No  woman  in  that  group  could  fail  to  note  the  leap 
of  sunshine  and  gladness  to  his  face,  the  instant  flush  that  rose  to 
his  cheek.  Miss  Travers,  herself,  saw  it  quickly,  as  did  the  maideti 
walking  just  behind  her,  and  her  heart  bounded  at  the  sight.  She  bowed 
as  their  eyes  met,  spoke  his  name  in  low  tone,  and  strove  to  hide  her 
face  from  Mr.  Blake,  who  turned  completely  around  and  stole  a  sudden 
glance  at  her.  She  could  no  more  account  for  than  she  could  control 
it,  but  her  face  was  burning.  Mrs.  Rayner,  too,  looked  around  and 
stared  at  her,  but  this  she  met  firmly,  her  dark  eyes  never  quailing 
before  the  angry  glare  in  her  sister's.  Blake  was  beginning  to  like 
Hayne  and  to  dislike  Mrs.  Rayner,  and  he  always  did  like  mischief. 

"  You  owe  me  a  grudge.  Miss  Travers,  if  you  did  but  know  it," 
he  said,  so  that  all  could  "hear. 

"  You,  Mr.  Blake  !     How  can  that  be  possible  ?" 

"  I  spoiled  a  serenade  for  you  a  few  nights  ago.  I  was  officer  of 
the  day,  and  caught  sight  of  a  man  gazing  up  at  your  window  after 
midnight.  I  felt  sure  he  was  going  to  sing :  so,  like  a  good  fellow,  I 
ran  over  to  play  an  accompaniment,  and  then — would  you  believe  it  ? 
— he  wouldn't  sing,  after  all.'^ 

She  was  white  now.  Her  eyes  were  gazing  almost  imploringly  at 
him.  Something  warned  him  to  hold  his  peace,  and  he  broke  off 
short. 

^'Who  was  it?  Oh,  do  tell  us,  Mr.  Blake  !"  were  the  exclamations, 
Mrs.  Rayner  being  most  impetuous  in  her  demands.  Again  Blake 
caught  the  apj^eal  in  Miss  Travers's  eyes. 

"  That's  what  I  want  to  know,"  he  responded,  mendaciously. 
"  When  I  woke  up  next  morning,  the  whole  thing  was  a  dream,  and 
I  couldn't  fix  the  fellow  at  all." 


774  THE  DESERTER. 

There  "v^'as  a  chorus  of  disappointment  and  indignation.  The  idea 
of  spoiling  such  a  gem  of  a  sensation  !  But  Blake  took  it  all  com- 
placently, until  he  got  home.     Then  it  began  to  worry  him. 

Was  it  possible  that  she  knew  he  was  there  ? 

That  night  there  was  a  disturbance  in  the  garrison.  Just  after  ten 
o'clock,  and  while  the  sentries  were  calling  off  the  hour,  a  woman's 
shrieks  and  cries  were  heard  over  behind  the  quarters  of  Company  B 
and  close  to  the  cottage  occupied  by  Lieutenant  Hayne.  The  officers 
of  the  guard  ran  to  the  spot  with  several  men,  and  found  Private  Clancy 
struggling  and  swearing  in  the  grasp  of  two  or  three  soldiers,  while  Mrs. 
Clancy  was  imploring  them  not  to  let  him  go,  he  was  wild-like  again;  it 
was  drink  ;  he  had  the  horrors,  and  was  batin'.her  while  she  was  tryin' 
to  get  him  home.  And  Clancy's  appearance  bore  out  her  words.  He 
was  wild  and  drunken  ;  but  he  swore  he  meant  no  harm  ;  he  struggled 
hard  for  freedom ;  he  vowed  he  only  wanted  to  see  the  lieutenant  at  his 
quarters ;  and  Mr.  Hayne,  lamp  in  hand,  had  come  upon  the  scene,  and 
was  striving  to  quiet  the  woman,  who  only  screamed  and  protested  the 
louder.  At  his  quiet  order  the  soldiers  released  Clancy,  and  the  man 
stood  patient  and  subordinate. 

"  Did  you  want  to  see  me,  Clancy  ?"  asked  Mr.  Hayne. 

"  Askin'  yer  pardon,  sir,  I  did,"  began  the  man,  unsteadily,  and 
evidently  struggling  with  the  fumes  of  the  liquor  he  had  been  drinking ; 
but  before  he  could  speak  again,  Mrs.  Clancy's  shrieks  rang  out  on  the 
still  air : 

"  Oh,  for  the  love  of  God,  howld  him,  some  o'  ye's !  He'll  kill 
him  !  He's  mad,  I  say  !  Shure  'tis  I  that  know  him  best.  Oh, 
blessed  Vargin,  save  us  !  DonH  let  him  loose,  Misther  Foster !"  she 
screamed  to  the  officer  of  the  guard,  who  at  that  moment  appeared  on 
the  full  run. 

"What's  the  trouble?"  he  asked,  breathlessly. 

"  Clancy  seems  to  have  been  drinking,  and  wants  to  talk  with  me 
about  something,  Mr.  Foster,"  said  Hayne,  quietly.  "  He  belongs  to 
my  company,  and  I  will  be  responsible  that  he  goes  home..  It  is  really 
Mrs.  Clancy  that  is  making  all  the  trouble." 

"  Oh,  for  the  love  of  God,  hear  him,  now,  whin  the  man  was  tearin' 
the  hair  o'  me  this  minute  !  Oh,  howld  him,  men  !  Shure  'tis  Captain 
Rayner  wud  niver  let  him  go." 

"  What's  the  matter,  Mrs.  Clancy  ?"  spoke  a  quick,  stern  voice,  and 
Rayner,  with  face  white  as  a  sheet,  suddenly  stood  in  their  midst. 

"  Oh,  God  be  praised,  it's  here  ye  are,  captin  !  Shure  it's  Clancy, 
sir,  dhrunk,  sir,  and  runnin'  round  the  garrison,  and  batin'  me,  sir." 

"'  Take  him  to  the  guard-house,  Mr.  Foster,"  was  the  stern,  sudden 
order.  "  Not  a  word,  Clancy,"  as  the  man  strove  to  speak.  "  Off 
with  him ;  and  if  he  gives  you  any  trouble,  send  for  me." 

And  as  the  poor  fellow  was  led  away,  silence  fell  upon  the  group. 
Mrs.  Clancy  began  a  wail  of  mingled  relief  and  misery,  which  the  cap- 
tain ordered  her  to  cease  and  go  home.  More  men  came  hurrying  to 
the  sjiot,  and  presently  the  officer  of  the  day.  "  It  is  all  right  now," 
said  Rayner  to  the  latter.  "  One  of  my  men — Clancy — was  out  here 
drunk  and  raising  a  row.     I  have  sent  him  to  the  guard-house.     Go 


THE  DESERTER.  775 

back  to  your  quarters,  men.  Come,  captain,  will  you  walk  over  home 
with  me  ?" 

"  Was  Mr.  Hayne  here  when  the  row  occurred  ?"  asked  the  cavalry- 
man, looking  as  though  he  wanted  to  hear  something  from  the  young 
officer  who  stood  a  silent  witness. 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Rayner.  "  It  makes  no  difference,  captain. 
It  is  not  a  case  of  witnesses.  I  shan't  prefer  charges  against  the  man. 
Come  !"     And  he  drew  him  hastily  away. 

Hayne  stood  watching  them  as  they  disappeared  beyond  the  glimmer 
of  his  lamp.     Then  a  hand  was  placed  on  his  arm  : 

"  Did  you  notice  Captain  Rayner's  face, — his  lips  ?  He  was  ashen 
as  death." 

"  Come  in  here  with  me,"  was  the  reply ;  and,  turning,  Hayne  led 
the  post  surgeon  into  the  house. 

XII. 

There  was  an  unusual  scene  at  the  matinee  the  following  morning. 
When  Captain  Ray  relieved  Captain  Gregg  as  officer  of  the  day,  and 
the  two  were  visiting  the  guard-house  and  turning  over  prisoners,  they 
came  upon  the  last  name  on  the  list, — Clancy, — and  Gregg  turned  to 
his  regimental  comrade  and  said, — 

"  No  charges  are  preferred  against  Clancy,  at  least  none  as  yet. 
Captain  Ray ;  but  his  company  commander  requests  that  he  be  held 
here  until  he  can  talk  over  his  case  with  the  colonel." 

"What's  he  in  for?"  demanded  Captain  Ray. 

"  Getting  drunk  and  raising  a  row  and  beating  his  wife,"  answered 
Gregg ;  whereat  there  was  a  titter  among  the  soldiers. 

"  I  never  shtruck  a  woman  in  me  life,  sir,"  said  poor  Clancy. 

"  Silence,  Clancy  !"  ordered  the  sergeant  of  the  guard. 

"  No,  I'm  blessed  if  I  believe  that  part  of  it,  Clancy,  drunk  or  no 
drunk,"  said  the  new  officer  of  the  day. — "  Take  charge  of  him  for  the 
present,  sergeant."     And  away  they  went  to  the  office. 

Captain  Rayner  was  in  conversation  with  the  commanding  officer 
as  they  entered,  and  the  colonel  was  saying, — 

"  It  is  not  the  proper  way  to  handle  the  case,  captain.  If  he  has 
been  guilty  of  drunkenness  and  disorderly  conduct  he  should  be  brought 
to  trial  at  once," 

"  I  admit  that,  sir ;  but  the  case  is  peculiar.  It  was  Mrs.  Clancy  that 
made  all  the  noise.  I  feel  sure  that  after  he  is  perfectly  sober  I  can 
give  him  such  a  talking-to  as  will  put  a  stop  to  this  trouble." 

"  Very  well,  sir.  I  am  willing  to  let  company  commanders  experi- 
ment at  least  once  or  twice  on  their  theories,  so  you  can  try  the  scheme ; 
but  we  of  the  — th  have  had  some  years  of  experience  with  the  Clancys, 
and  were  not  a  little  amused  when  they  turned  up  again  in  our  midst  as 
accredited  members  of  your  company." 

"  Then,  as  I  understand  you,  colonel,  Clancy  is  not  to  be  brought  to 
trial  for  this  affair,"  suddenly  spoke  the  post  surgeon. 

Everybody  looked  up  in  surprise.  "  Pills"  was  the  last  man, 
ordinarily,  to  take  a  hand  in  the  "  shop  talk"  at  the  morning  meetings. 


776  ^^^  DESERTER. 

"  No,  doctor.     His  captain  thinks  it  unnecessary  to  prefer  charges." 

''  So  do  I,  sir ;  and,  as  I  saw  the  man  both  before  and  after  his 
confinement  last  night,  I  do  not  think  it  was  necessary  to  confine 
him." 

"  The  officer  of  the  day  says  there  was  great  disorder,"  said  the 
colonel,  in  surprise. 

"  Ay,  sir,  so  there  was ;  and  the  thing  reminds  me  of  the  stories 
they  used  to  tell  on  the  New  York  police.  It  looked  to  me  as  though  all 
the  row  was  raised  by  Mrs.  Clancy,  as  Captain  Rayner  says ;  but  the 
man  was  arrested.  That  being  the  case,  I  would  ask  the  captain  for 
what  specific  offence  he  ordered  Clancy  to  the  guard-house." 

Rayner  again  was  pale  as  death.  He  glared  at  the  doctor  in  amaze 
and  incredulity,  while  all  the  officers  noted  his  agitation  and  were  silent 
in  surprise.     It  was  the  colonel  that  came  to  the  rescue : 

"  Captain  Rayner  had  abundant  reason,  doctor.  It  was  after  taps, 
though  only  just  after,  and,  whether  causing  the  trouble  or  not,  the  man 
is  the  responsible  party,  not  the  woman.  The  captain  was  right  in  causing 
his  arrest." 

Rayner  looked  up  gratefully. 

"  I  submit  to  your  decision,  sir,"  said  the  surgeon,  "  and  I  apologize 
for  anything  I  may  have  asked  that  was  beyond  my  province.  Now  I 
wish  to  ask  a  question  for  my  own  guidance." 

"  Go  on,  doctor." 

"  In  case  an  enlisted  man  of  this  command  desire  to  see  an  officer  of 
his  company, — or  any  other  officer,  for  that  matter, — is  it  a  violation  of 
any  military  regulation  for  him  to  go  to  his  quarters  for  that  purpose  ?" 

Again  was  Rayner  fearfully  white  and  aged-looking.  His  lips 
moved  as  though  he  would  interrupt ;  but  discipline  prevailed. 

''  No,  doctor ;  and  yet  we  have  certain  customs  of  service  to  prevent 
the  men  going  at  all  manner  of  hours  and  on  frivolous  errands  :  a  soldier 
asks  his  first  sergeant's  permission  first,  and  if  denied  by  him,  and  he 
have  what  he  considers  good  reason,  he  can  report  the  whole  case." 

"  But  suppose  a  man  is  not  on  company  duty  :  must  he  hunt  up  his 
first  sergeant  and  ask  permission  to  go  and  see  some  officer  with  whom 
he  has  business  ?" 

"  Well,  hardly,  in  that  case." 

"  That's  all,  sir."    And  the  doctor  subsided. 

Among  all  the  officers,  as  the  meeting  adjourned,  the  question  was, 
"  What  do  you  suppose  '  Pills'  was  driving  at?" 

There  were  two  or  three  who  knew.  Captain  Rayner  went  first  to 
his  quarters,  where  he  had  a  few  moments'  hurried  consultation  with 
his  wife ;  then  they  left  the  house  together, — he  to  have  a  low-toned 
and  very  stern  talk  to  rather  than  with  the  abashed  Clancy,  who  listened 
cap  in  hand  and  with  hanging  head  ;  she  to  visit  the  sick  child  of  INIrs. 
Flanigan,  of  Company  K,  whose  quarters  adjoined  those  to  which  the 
Clancys  had  recently  been  assigned.  AV^hen  that  Hibernian  culprit 
returned  to  his  roof-tree,  released  from  durance  vile,  he  was  surprised 
to  receive  a  kindly  and  sympathetic  welcome  from  his  captain's  wife, 
who  with  her  own  hand  had  mixed  him  some  comforting  drink  and 
was  planning  with  Mrs.  Clancy  for  their  greater  comfort.     ''  If  Clancy 


THE  DESERTER. 


777 


will  only  promise  to  quit  entirely !"  interjected  the  partner  of  his  jovs 
and  sorrows. 

Later  that  day,  when  the  doctor  had  a  little  talk  with  Clancy,  the 
ex-dragoon  declared  he  was  going  to  reform  for  all  he  was  worth.  He 
was  only  a  distress  to  everybody  when  he  drank. 

"  All  right,  Clancy.  And  when  you  are  perfectly  yourself  you  can 
come  and  see  Lieutenant  Hayne  as  soon  as  you  like." 

"  Loot'nant  Hayne  is  it,  sir  ?  Shure  I'd  be  beggin'  his  pardon  for 
the  vexation  I  gave  him  last  night." 

"  But  you  have  something  you  wanted  to  speak  with  him  about. 
You  said  so  last  night,  Clancy,"  said  the  doctor,  looking  him  squarely 
in  the  eye. 

"  Shure  I  was  dhrunk,  sir.  I  didn't  mane  it,"  he  answered ;  but 
he  shrank  and  cowered, 

The  doctor  turned  and  left  him. 

"  If  it's  only  when  he's  drunk  that  conscience  pricks  him  and  the 
truth  will  out,  then  we  must  have  him  drunk  again/'  quoth  this  un- 
principled practitioner. 

That  same  afternoon  Miss  Travers  found  that  a  headache  was  the 
result  of  confinement  to  an  atmosphere  somewhat  heavily  charged  with 
electricity.  Mrs.  Rayner  seemed  to  bristle  every  time  she  approached 
her  sister.  Possibly  it  was  the  heart,  more  than  the  head,  that  ached, 
but  in  either  case  she  needed  relief  from  the  exposed  position  she  had 
occupied  ever  since  Kate's  return  from  the  Clancys'  in  the  mornino-. 
She  had  been  too  long  under  fire,  and  was  wearied.  Even  the  cheery 
visits  of  the  garrison  gallants  had  proved  of  little  avail,  for  Mrs. 
Rayner  was  in  very  ill  temper,  and  made  snappish  remarks  to  them 
which  two  of  them  resented  and  speedily  took  themselves  off.  Later 
Miss  Travers  went  to  her  room  and  wrote  a  letter,  and  then  the  sunset 
gun  shook  the  window,  and  twilight  settled  down  upon  the  still  frozen 
earth.  She  bathed  her  heated  forehead  and  flushed  cheeks,  threw  a 
warm  cloak  over  her  shoulders,  and  came  slowly  down  the  stairs.  Mrs. 
Rayner  met  her  at  the  parlor  door. 

"  Kate,  I  am  going  for  a  walk,  and  shall  stop  and  see  Mrs.  Waldron." 

"  Quite  an  unnecessary  piece  of  information.  I  saw  him  as  well  as 
you.     He  has  just  gone  there." 

Miss  Travers  flushed  hot  with  indignation  : 

"  I  have  seen  no  one  ;  and  if  you  mean  that  Mr.  Hayne  has  gone 
to  Major  Waldron's,  I  shall  not." 

"  No :  I'd  meet  him  on  the  walk :  it  would  only  be  a  trifle  more 
public." 

"  You  have  no  right  to  accuse  me  of  the  faintest  expectation  of 
meeting  him  anywhere.     I  repeat,  I  had  not  thought  of  such  a  thing." 

"  You  might  just  as  well  do  it.  You  cannot  make  your  antagonism 
to  my  husband  much  more  pointed  than  you  have  already.  And  as 
for  meeting  Mr.  Hayne,  the  only  advice  I  presume  to  give  now  is  that 
for  your  own  sake  you  keep  your  blushes  under  better  control  than 
you  did  the  last  time  you  met — that  I  know  of"  And,  with  this 
triumphant  insult  as  a  parting  shot,  INIrs.  Rayner  wheeled  and  marched 
oif  through  the  parlor. 
Vol.  XXXIX.— 51 


778  T^^  DESERTER. 

What  was  a  girl  to  do?  Nellie  Travers  was  not  of  the  crying 
kind,  and  was  denied  a  vast  amount  of  comfort  in  consequence.  She 
stood  a  few  moments  quivering  under  the  lash  of  injustice  and  insult 
to  which  she  had  been  subjected.  She  longed  for  a  breath  of  pure, 
fresh  air ;  but  there  would  be  no  enjoyment  even  in  that  now.  She 
needed  sympathy  and  help,  if  ever  girl  did,  but  where  was  she  to  find 
it  ?  The  women  who  most  attracted  her  and  who  would  have  warmly 
welcomed  her  at  any  time — the  women  whom  slie  would  eagerly  have 
gone  to  in  her  trouble — were  practically  denied  to  her.  Mrs.  Rayner 
in  her  quarrel  had  declared  war  against  the  cavalry,  and  Mrs.  Stannard 
and  Mrs.  Ray,  who  had  shown  a  disposition  to  welcome  Nellie  warmly, 
were  no  longer  callers  at  the  house.  Mrs.  Waldron,  who  was  kind 
and  motherly  to  the  girl  and  loved  to  have  her  with  her,  was  so  embar- 
rassed by  Mrs.  Rayner's  determined  snubs  that  she  hardly  knew  how 
to  treat  the  matter.  She  would  no  longer  visit  Mrs.  Rayner  informally, 
as  had  been  her  custom,  yet  she  wanted  the  girl  to  come  to  her.  If 
she  went,  Miss  Travers  well  knew  that  on  her  return  to  the  house  she 
would  be  received  by  a  volley  of  sarcasms  about  her  preference  for  the 
society  of  people  who  were  the  avowed  enemies  of  her  benefactors.  If 
she  remained  in  the  house,  it  was  to  become  in  person  the  target  for  her 
sister's  undeserved  sneers  and  censure.  The  situation  was  becoming 
simply  unbearable.  Twice  she  began  and  twice  she  tore  to  fragments 
the  letter  for  which  Mr.  Van  Antwerp  was  daily  imploring,  and  this 
evening  she  once  more  turned  and  slowly  sought  her  room,  threw  off 
her  wraps,  and  took  up  her  writing-desk.  It  was  not  yet  dark.  There 
was  still  light  enough  for  her  purpose,  if  she  went  close  to  the  window. 
Every  nerve  was  tingling  with  the  sense  of  wrong  and  ignominy ; 
every  throb  of  her  heart  but  intensified  the  longing  for  relief  from  the 
thraldom  of  her  position.  She  saw  only  one  path  to  lead  her  from 
such  crushing  dependence.  There  was  his  last  letter,  received  only 
that  day,  urging,  imploring  her  to  leave  Warrener  forthwith.  Mrs. 
Rayner  had  declared  to  him  her  readiness  to  bring  her  East  provided 
she  would  fix  an  early  date  for  the  wedding.  Was  it  not  a  future 
many  a  girl  might  envy?  Was  he  not  tender,  faithful,  patient,  de- 
voted as  man  could  be  ?  Had  he  not  social  position  and  competence  ? 
Was  he  not  high-bred,  courteous,  refined, — a  gentleman  in  all  his  acts 
and  words  ?  Why  could  she  not  love  him,  and  be  content  ?  There 
on  the  desk  lay  a  little  scrap  of  note-paper ;  there  lay  her  pen  ;  a  dozen 
words  only  were  necessary.  One  moment  she  gazed  longingly,  wist- 
fully, at  the  far-away,  darkening  heights  of  the  Rockies,  watching  the 
last  rose-tinted  gleams  on  the  snowy  peaks ;  then  with  sudden  impulse 
she  seized  her  pen  and  drew  the  portfolio  to  the  window-seat.  As  she 
did  so,  a  soldierly  figure  came  briskly  down  the  walk ;  a  pale,  clear- 
cut  face  glanced  up  at  her  casement ;  a  quick  light  of  recognition  and 
pleasure  flashed  in  his  eyes ;  the  little  forage-cap  was  raised  with  cour- 
teous grace,  though  the  step  never  slackened,  and  Miss  Travers  felt 
that  her  cheek,  too,  was  flushing  again,  as  Mr.  Hayne  strode  rapidly 

by.     She  stood  there  another  moment,  and  then it  had  grown  too 

dark  to  write. 

When  Mrs.  Rayner,  after  calling    twice  from  the  bottom  of  the 


THE  DESERTER.  'J'JQ 

stairs,  finally  went  up  into  her  room  and  impatiently  pushed  open  the 
door,  all  was  darkness  except  the  glimmer  from  the  hearth : 

"  Nellie,  where  are  you  ?" 

"  Here,"  answered  Miss  Travers,  starting  up  from  the  sofa.  "  I 
think  I  must  have  been  asleep." 

"  Your  head  is  hot  as  fire,"  said  her  sister,  laying  her  firm  white 
hand  upon  the  burning  forehead.  "  I  suppose  you  are  going  to  be 
downright  ill,  by  way  of  diversion.  Just  understand  one  thing,  Nellie : 
that  doctor  does  not  come  into  my  house." 

"  What  doctor  ? — not  that  I  want  one,"  asked  Miss  Travers, 
wearily. 

"  Dr.  Pease,  the  post  surgeon,  I  mean.  Of  course  you  have  heard 
how  he  is  mixing  himself  in  my  husband's  affairs  and  making  trouble 
with  various  people." 

"  I  have  heard  nothing,  Kate." 

"  I  don't  wonder  your  friends  are  ashamed  to  tell  you.  Things  have 
come  to  a  pretty  pass,  when  officers  are  going  around  holding  private 
meetings  with  enlisted  men  !" 

"  I  hardly  know  the  doctor  at  all,  Kate,  and  cannot  imagine  what 
affairs  of  your  husband's  he  can  interfere  with." 

"  It  was  he  that  put  up  Clancy  to  making  the  disturbance  at  Mr. 
Hayne's  last  night  and  getting  into  the  guard-house,  and  tried  to  prove 
that  he  had  a  right  to  go  there  and  that  the  captain  had  no  right  to 
arrest  him." 

"  Was  Clancy  trying  to  see  Mr.  Hayne  ?"  asked  Miss  Travers, 
quickly. 

"  How  should  I  know  ?"  said  her  sister,  pettishly.  "  He  was  drunk, 
and  probably  didn't  know  what  he  was  doing." 

*'  And  Captain  Rayner  arrested  him  for — for  trying  to  see  Mr. 
Hayne?" 

"  Captain  Rayner  arrested  him  for  Being  drunk  and  creating  a  dis- 
turbance, as  it  was  his  duty  to  arrest  any  soldier  under  such  circum- 
stances," replied  her  sister,  with  majestic  wrath,  "  and  I  will  not  tolerate 
it  that  you  should  criticise  his  conduct." 

"  I  have  made  no  criticism,  Kate.  I  have  simply  made  inquiry ; 
but  I  have  learned  what  no  one  else  could  have  made  me  believe." 

"  Nellie  Travers,  be  careful  what  you  say,  or  what  you  insinuate. 
What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  I  mean,  Kate,  that  it  is  my  belief  that  there  is  something  at  the 
bottom  of  those  stories  of  Clancy's  strange  talk  when  in  the  hospital. 
I  believe  he  thinks  he  knows  something  which  would  turn  all  suspicion 
from  Mr.  Hayne  to  a  totally  different  man.  I  believe  that,  for  reasons 
which  I  cannot  fathom,  you  are  determined  Mr.  Hayne  shall  not  see 
him  or  hear  of  it.  It  was  you  that  sent  Captain  Rayner  over  there 
last  night.  Mrs.  Clancy  came  here  at  tattoo,  and,  from  the  time  she 
left,  you  were  at  the  front  door  or  window.  You  were  the  first  to  hear 
her  cries,  and  came  running  in  to  tell  the  captain  to  go  at  once.  Kate, 
why  did  you  stand  there  listening  from  the  time  she  left  the  kitchen, 
unless  you  expected  to  hear  just  what  happened  over  there  behind  the 
company  barracks?" 


780  TEE  DESERTER. 

Mrs.  Rayner  would  give  no  answer.  Anger,  rage,  retaliation,  all 
in  turn  were  pictured  on  her  furious  face,  but  died  away  before  the 
calm  and  unconquerable  gaze  in  her  sister's  eyes.  For  the  first  time  in 
her  life  Kate  Rayner  realized  that  her  "  baby  Nell"  had  the  stronger 
will  of  the  two.  For  one  instant  she  contemplated  vengeance.  A 
torrent  of  invective  leaped  readily  to  her  lips.  '*  Outrage,"  "  ingrate," 
"  insult,"  were  the  first  three  distinguishable  epithets  applied  to  her 
sister  or  her  sister's  words ;  then,  "See  if  Mr.  Van  Antwerp  will  tolerate 
such  conduct.  I'll  write  this  very  ^lay,"  was  the  impotent  threat  that 
followed ;  and  finally,  utterly  defeated,  thoroughly  convinced  that  she 
was  powerless  against  her  sister's  reckless  love  of  "  fair  play  at  any 
price,"  she  felt  that  her  wrath  was  giving  \^ay  to  dismay,  and  turned 
and  fled,  lest  Nellie  should  see  the  flag  of  surrender  on  her  paling  cheeks. 

XIII. 

Two  nights  after  this,  as  Captain  Buxton  was  sulkily  going  the 
rounds  of  the  sentries  he  made  a  discovery  which  greatly  enlivened  an 
otherwise  uneventful  tour  as  officer  of  the  day.  It  had  been  his  general 
custom  on  such  occasions  to  take  the  shortest  way  across  the  parade  to 
the  guard-house,  make  brief  and  perfunctory  inspection  there,  then  go 
on  down  the  hill  to  the  creek  valley  and  successively  visit  the  sentries 
around  the  stables.  If  the  night  were  wet  or  cold,  he  went  back  the 
same  way,  ignoring  the  sentries  at  the  coal-  and  store-sheds  along 
Prairie  Avenue.  This  was  a  sharply  cold  night,  and  very  dark,  but 
equally  still.  It  was  between  twelve  and  one  o'clock — nearer  one  than 
twelve — as  he  climbed  the  hill  on  his  homeward  way,  and,  instead  of 
taking  the  short  cut,  turned  northward  and  struck  for  the  gloomy  mass 
of  sheds  dimly  discernible  some  forty  yards  from  the  crest.  He  had 
heard  other  officers  speak  of  the  fact  that  Mr.  Hayne's  lights  were 
burning  until  long  after  midnight,  and  that,  dropping  in  there,  they  had 
found  him  seated  at  his  desk  with  a  green  shade  over  his  eyes,  studying 
by  the  aid  of  two  student-lamps ;  "  boning  to  be  a  general,  probably," 
was  the  comment  of  captains  of  Buxton's  calibre,  who,  having  grown 
old  in  the  service  and  in  their  own  ignorance,  were  fiercely  intolerant  of 
lieutenants  who  strove  to  improve  in  professional  reading  instead  of 
spending  their  time  making  out  the  company  muster-rolls  and  clothing- 
accounts,  as  they  should  do.  Buxton  wanted  to  see  for  himself  what 
the  night-lights  meant,  and  was  plunging  heavily  ahead  through  the 
darkness,  when  suddenly  brought  to  a  stand  by  the  sharp  challenge  of 
the  sentry  at  the  coal-shed.  He  whispered  the  mystic  countersign  over 
the  levelled  bayonet  of  the  infantryman,  swearing  to  himself  at  the 
regulation  which  puts  an  officer  in  such  a  "stand-and-deliver"  attitude 
for  the  time  being,  and  then,  by  way  of  getting  square  with  the  soldier 
for  the  sharply  military  way  in  which  his  duty  as  sentry  had  been  per- 
formed, the  captain  proceeded  to  catechise  him  as  to  his  orders.  The 
soldier  had  been  well  taught,  and  knew  all  his  "  responses"  by  rote, — 
far  better  than  Buxton,  for  that  matter,  as  the  latter  was  anything  but 
an  exemplar  of  perfection  in  tactics  or  sentry  duty ;  but  this  did  not 
prevent  Buxton's  snappishly  telling  him  he  was  wrong  in  several  points 


THE  DESERTER.  781 

and  contemptuously  inquiring  where  he  had  learned  such  trash.  The 
soldier  promptly  but  respectfully  responded  that  those  were  the  exact 
instructions  he  had  received  at  the  adjutant's  school,  and  Buxton 
knew  from  experience  that  he  was  getting  on  dangerous  ground.  He 
would  have  stuck  to  his  point,  however,  in  default  of  something  else 
to  find  fault  with,  but  that  the  crack  of  a  whip,  the  crunching  of  hoofs, 
and  a  rattle  of  wheels  out  in  the  darkness  quickly  diverted  his  atten- 
tion. 

"  What's  that,  sentry  ?"  he  sharply  inquired. 
•     "  A  carriage,  sir;     Leastwise,  I  think  it  must  be." 

"  Why  don't  you  know,  sir?     It  must  have  been  on  your  post." 

"  No,  sir ;  it  was  'way  off  my  post.  It  drove  up  to  Lieutenant 
Hayne's  about  half  an  hour  ago." 

"  Where'd  it  come  from  ?"  asked  the  captain,  eagerly. 

"  From  town,  sir,  I  suppose."  And,  leaving  the  sentry  to  his  own 
reflections,  which,  on  the  whole,  were  not  complimentary  to  his  superior 
officer,  Captain  Buxton  strode  rapidly  through  the  darkness  to  Lieuten- 
ant Hayne's  quarters.  Bright  lights  were  still  burning  within,  both 
on  the  ground -floor  and  in  a  room  above.  The  sentries  were  just 
beginning  the  call  of  one  o'clock  when  he  reached  the  gate  and"'  halted, 
gazing  inquisitively  at  the  house  front.  Then  he  turned  and  listened 
to  the  rattle  of  wheels  growing  faint  in  the  distance  as  the  team  drove 
away  towards  the  prairie  town.  If  Hayne  had  gone  to  town  at  that 
hour  of  the  night  it  was  a  most  unusual  proceeding,  and  he  had  not 
the  colonel's  permission  to  absent  himself  from  the  post :  of  that  the 
officer  of  the  day  was  certain.  Then,  again,  he  would  not  have  gone 
and  left  all  his  lights  burning.  No :  that  vehicle,  whatever  it  was, 
had  brought  somebody  out  to  see  him, — somebody  who  proposed  to 
remain  several  hours ;  otherwise  the  carriage  would  not  have  driven 
away.  In  confirmation  of  this  theory,  he  heard  voices,  cheery  voices, 
in  laughing  talk,  and  one  of  them  made  him  prick  up  his  ears.  He 
heard  the  piano  crisply  trilling  a  response  to  light,  skilful  fingers.  He 
longed  for  a  peep  within,  and  regretted  that  he  had  dropped  Mr.  Hayne 
from  the  list  of  his  acquaintance.  He  recognized  Hayne's  shadow, 
presently,  thrown  by  the  lamp  upon  the  curtained  window,  and  wished 
that  his  visitor  would  come  similarly  into  view.  He  heard  the  clink 
of  glasses,  and  saw  the  shadow  raise  a  wineglass  to  the  lips,  and  Sam's 
Mongolian  shape  flitted  across  the  screen,  bearing  a  tray  with  similar 
suggestive  objects.  What  meant  this  unheard-of  conviviality  on  the 
part  of  the  ascetic,  the  hermit,  the  midnight-oil-burner,  the  scholarly 
recluse  of  the  garrison  ?  Buxton  stared  with  all  his  eyes  and  listened 
with  all  his  ears,  starting  guiltily  when  he  heard  a  martial  footstep 
coming  quickly  up  the  path,  and  faced  the  intruder  rather  unsteadily. 
It  was  only  the  corporal  of  the  guard,  and  he  glanced  at  his  superior, 
brought  his  fur-gauntleted  hand  in  salute  to  the  rifle  on  his  shoulder, 
and  passed  on.  The  next  moment  Buxton  fairly  gasped  with  amaze : 
he  stared  an  instant  at  the  window  as  though  transfixed,  then  ran  after 
the  corporal,  called  to  him  in  low,  stealthy  tone  to  come  back  noise- 
lessly, drew  him  by  the  sleeve  to  the  front  of  Hayne's  quarters,  and 
pointed  to  the  parlor  window.     Two  shadows  were  there  now, — one 


782  THE  DESERTER. 

easily  recognizable  as  that  of  the  young  officer  in  his  snugly-fitting 
undress  uniform,  the  other  slender,  graceful,  feminine. 

"  What  do  you  make  that  other  shadow  to  be,  corporal  ?"  he 
whispered,  hoarsely  and  hurriedly.  "  Look .'"  And  with  that  excla- 
mation a  shadowed  arm  seemed  to  encircle  the  slender  form,  the  mous- 
tached  image  to  bend  low  and  mingle  with  the  outlined  luxuriance  of 
tress  that  decked  the  other's  head,  and  then,  together,  with  clasping 
arms,  the  shadows  moved  from  view. 

"  What  was  the  other,  corporal  ?"  he  repeated. 

"  Well,  sir,  I  should  say  it  was  a  young  woman." 

Buxton  could  hardly  wait  until  morning  to  see  Rayner.  When  he 
passed  the  latter's  quarters  half  an  hour  later,  all  was  darkness  ;  though, 
had  he  but  known  it,  Rayner  was  not  asleep.  He  was  at  the  house 
before  guard-mounting,  and  had  a  confidential  and  evidently  exciting 
talk  with  the  captain ;  and  when  he  went,  just  as  the  trumpets  were 
sounding,  these  words  were  heard  at  the  front  door : 

"  She  never  left  until  after  daylight,  when  the  same  rig  drove  her 
back  to  town.     There  was  a  stranger  with  her  then." 

That  morning  both  Rayner  and  Buxton  looked  hard  at  Mr.  Hayne 
when  he  came  in  to  the  matinee;  but  he  was  just  as  calm  and  quiet 
as  ever,  and,  having  saluted  the  commanding  officer,  took  a  seat  by 
Captain  Gregg  and  was  soon  occupied  in  conversation  with  him.  Not 
a  word  was  said  by  the  officer  of  the  day  about  the  mysterious  visitor 
U)  the  garrison  the  previous  night.  With  Captain  Rayner,  however, 
he  was  again  in  conversation  much  of  the  day,  and  to  him,  not  to  his 
successor  as  officer  of  the  day,  did.  he  communicate  all  the  details  of  the 
previous  night's  adventure  and  his  theories  thereanent. 

Late  that  night,  having  occasion  to  step  to  his  front  door,  convinced 
that  he  heard  stealthy  footsteps  on  his  piazza,  Mr.  Hayne  could  see  no- 
body in  the  darkness,  but  found  his  front  gate  open.  He  walked  around 
his  little  house ;  but  not  a  man  was  visible.  His  heart  was  full  of  a 
new  and  strange  excitement  that  night,  and,  as  before,  he  threw  on  his 
overcoat  and  furs  and  took  a  rapid  walk  around  the  garrison,  gazing  up 
into  the  starry  heavens  and  drinking  in  great  drauglits  of  the  pure, 
bracing  air.  Returning,  he  came  down  along  the  front  of  officers'  row, 
and  as  he  approached  Rayner's  quarters  his  eyes  rested  longingly  upon 
the  window  he  knew  to  be  hers  now ;  but  all  was  darkness.  As  he 
rapidly  neared  the  house,  however,  he  became  aware  of  two  bulky 
figures  at  the  gate,  and,  as  he  walked  briskly  past,  recognized  the  over- 
coats as  those  of  officers.  One  man  was  doubtless  Rayner,  the  other 
he  could  not  tell ;  for  both,  the  instant  they  recognized  his  step,  seemed 
to  avert  their  heads.  Once  home  again,  he  soon  sought  his  room  and 
pillow  ;  but,  long  before  he  could  sleep,  again  and  again  a  sweet  vision 
seemed  to  come  to  him :  he  could  not  shut  out  the  thought  of  Nellie 
Travers, — of  how  she  looked  and  what  she  said  that  very  afternoon. 

He  had  gone  to  call  at  Mrs.  Waldron's  soon  after  dark.  He  was 
at  the  piano,  playing  for  her,  when  he  became  conscious  that  another 
lady  had  entered  the  room,  and,  turning,  saw  Nellie  Travers.  He  rose 
and  bowed  to  her,  extending  his  hand  as  he  did  so,  and  knowing  that 
his  heart  was  thumping  and  his  color  rising  as  he  felt  the  soft,  warm 


THE  DESERTER.  783 

touch  of  her  slender  fingers  in  his  grasp.  She,  too,  had  flushed, — any 
one  could  see  it,  though  the  lamps  were  not  tui-ned  high,  nor  was  the 
firelight  strong. 

"  Miss  Travers  has  come  to  take  tea  very  quietly  with  me,  Mr. 
Hayne, — she  is  so  soon  to  return  to  the  East, — and  now  I  want  you  to 
stay  and  join  us.  No  one  will  be  here  but  the  major ;  and  we  will  have 
a  lovely  time  with  our  music.     You  will,  won't  you  ?" 

"  So  soon  to  return  to  the  East !"  How  harsh,  how  strange  and  un- 
welcome, the  words  sounded  !  How  they  seemed  to  oppress  him  and 
prevent  his  reply  !  He  stood  a  moment  dazed  and  vaguely  worried  : 
he  could  not  explain  it.  He  looked  from  Mrs.  Waldron's  kind  face  to 
the  sweet,  flushed,  lovely  features  there  so  near  him,  and  something  told 
liim  that  he  could  never  let  them  go  and  find  even  hope  or  content  in 
life  again.  How,  why  had  she  so  strangely  come  iuto  his  lonely  life, 
radiant,  beautiful,  bewildering  as  some  suddenly  blazing  star  in  the 
darkest  corner  of  the  heavens  ?  Whence  had  come  this  strange  power 
that  enthralled  him  ?  He  gazed  into  her  sweet  face,  with  its  downcast, 
troubled  eyes,  and  then,  in  bewilderment,  turned  to  Mrs.  Waldron  : 

"I — I  had  no  idea  Miss  Travers  was  going  East  again  just  now. 
It  seems  only  a  few  days  since  she  came." 

"  It  is  over  a  month  ;  but  all  the  same  this  is  a  sudden  decision.  I 
knew  nothing  of  it  until  yesterday. — You  said  ISIrs.  Rayuer  was  better 
to-day,  Nellie  ?" 

"  Yes,  a  little ;  but  she  is  far  from  well.  I  think  the  captain  will 
go,  too,  just  as  soon  as  he  can  arrange  for  leave  of  absence,"  was  the 
low-toned  answer.  He  had  released,  or  rather  she  had  withdrawn,  her 
hand,  and  he  still  stood  there,  fascinated.  His  eyes  could  not  quit  their 
gaze.  She  going  away  ? — She  ?  Oh,  it  could  not  be  !  What — what 
would  life  become  without  the  sight  of  that  radiaut  face,  that  slender, 
graceful,  girlish  form? 

"  Is  not  this  very  unexpected  ?"  he  struggled  to  say.  "  I  thought — . 
I  heard  you  were  to  spend  several  months  here." 

"  It  was  so  intended,  Mr.  Hayne ;  but  my  sister's  health  requires 
speedy  change.  She  has  been  growing  worse  ever  since  we  came,  and 
she  will  not  get  well  here." 

"  And  when  do  you  go  ?"  he  asked,  blankly. 

"  Just  as  soon  as  we  can  pack ;  though  we  may  wait  two  or  three 
days  for  a — for  a  telegram." 

There  was  a  complete  break  in  the  conversation  for  a  full  quarter 
of  a  minute, — not  such  a  long  time  in  itself,  but  unconventionally  long 
under  such  circumstances.  Then  Mrs.  Waldron  suddenly  and  remark- 
ably arose : 

"  I'll  leave  you  to  entertain  Mr.  Hayne  a  few  moments,  Nellie. 
I  am  the  slave  of  my  cook,  and  she  knows  nothing  of  Mr.  Hayne's 
being  here  to  tea  with  us :  so  I  must  tell  her  and  avert  disaster." 
And  with  this  barefaced — statement  on  her  lips  and  conscience,  where  it 
rested  with  equal  lightness,  that  exemplary  lady  quitted  the  room.  In 
the  sanctity  of  the  connubial  chamber  that  evening,  some  hours  later, 
she  thus  explained  her  action  to  her  silent  spouse : 

"  Right  or  wrong,  I  meant  that  those  two  young  people  should  have 


784  ^^^  DESERTER. 

a  cliance  to  know  each  other.  I  liave  been  convinced  for  three  weeks 
that  she  is  being  forced  into  this  New  York  match,  and  for  the  last 
week  that  she  is  wretchedly  unhappy.  You  say  you  believe  him  a 
wronged  and  injured  man,  only  you  can't  prove  it,  and  you  have  said 
that  nothing  could  be  too  good  for  him  in  this  life  as  a  reward  for  all 
his  bravery  and  fortitude  under  fearful  trials.  Then  Nellie  Travers  isn't 
too  good  for  him,  sweet  as  she  is,  and  I  don't  care  who  calls  me  a  match- 
maker." 

But  with  Mrs.  "Waldron  away  the  two  appeared  to  have  made  but 
halting  progress  towards  friendship.  With  all  her  outspoken  pluck  at 
school  and  at  home,  Miss  Travers  was  strangely  ill  at  ease  and  em- 
barrassed now.  Mr.  Hayne  was  the  first  to  gain  self-control  and  to 
endeavor  to  bring  the  conversation  back  to  a  natural  channel.  It  was 
a  struggle ;  but  he  had  grown  accustomed  to  struggles.  He  could  not 
imagine  that  a  girl  whom  he  had  met  only  once  or  twice  should  have 
for  him  anything  more  than  the  vaguest  and  most  casual  interest.  He 
well  knew  by  this  time  how  deep  and  vehement  was  the  interest  she 
had  aroused  in  his  heart ;  but  it  would  never  do  to  betray  himself  so 
soon.  He  strove  to  interest  her  in  reference  to  the  music  she  would 
hear,  and  to  learn  from  her  where  they  were  going.  This  she  answered. 
They  would  go  no  farther  East  than  St.  Louis  or  Chicago.  They  might 
go  South  as  far  as  Nashville  until  mid-May.  As  for  the  summer, 
it  would  depend  on  the  captain  and  his  leave  of  absence.  It  was  all 
vague  and  unsettled.  Mrs.  Rayner  was  so  wretched  that  her  husband 
was  convinced  that  she  ought  to  leave  for  the  States  as  soon  as  possible, 
and  of  course  "  she"  must  go  with  her.  All  the  gladness,  brightness, 
vivacity  he  had  seen  and  heard  of  as  her  marked  characteristics  seemed 
gone ;  and,  yet,  she  wanted  to  speak  with  him, — wanted  to  be  with 
him.  What  could  be  wrong  ?  he  asked  himself.  It  was  not  until  Mrs. 
Waldron's  step  was  heard  returning  that  she  nerved  herself  to  sudden, 
almost  desperate,  effort.     She  startled  him  with  her  vehemence  : 

"  Mr.  Hayne,  there  is  something  I  must  tell  you  before  I  go.  If 
no  opportunity  occur,  I'll  write  it." 

And  those  were  the  words  that  had  been  haunting  him  all  the 
evening,  for  they  were  not  again  alone,  and  he  had  no  chance  to  ask  a 
question.  What  could  she  mean  ?  For  years  he  had  been  living  a  life 
of  stern  self-denial ;  but  long  before  his  promotion  the  last  penny  of 
the  obligation  that,  justly  or  otherwise,  had  been  laid  upon  his  shoulders 
was  paid  with  interest.  He  was  a  man  free  and  self-respecting,  strong, 
resolute,  and  possessed  of  an  independence  that  never  would  have  been 
his  had  his  life  run  on  in  the  same  easy,  trusting,  happy-go-lucky  style 
in  which  he  had  spent  the  first  two  years  of  his  army  career.  But  in 
his  isolation  he  had  allowed  himself  no  thought  of  anything  that  could 
for  a  moment  distract  hira  from  the  stern  purpose  to  which  he  had  de- 
voted every  energy.  He  would  win  back,  command,  compel,  the  respect 
of  his  comrades, — would  bring  to  confusion  those  who  had  sought  to 
pull  him  down  ;  and  until  that  stood  accomplished  he  would  know  no 
other  claim.  In  the  exile  of  the  mountain-station  he  saw  no  women 
but  the  wives  of  his  senior  officers ;  and  they  merely  bowed  when  they 
h^ippened  to  meet  him :  some  did  not  even  do  that.     Now  at  last  he 


THE  DESERTER.  785 

had  met  and  yielded  to  the  first  of  two  conquerors  before  whom  even 
the  bravest  and  the  strongest  go  down  infallibly, — Love  and  Death. 
Suddenly,  but  irresistibly,  the  sweet  face  and  thrilling  tones  of  that 
young  girl  had  seized  and  filled  his  heart,  to  the  utter  exclusion  of  every 
other  passion  ;  and  just  in  proportion  to  the  emptiness  and  yearning  of 
his  life  before  their  meeting  was  the  intensity  of  the  love  and  longing 
that  possessed  him  now.  It  was  useless  to  try  and  analyze  the  sudden- 
ness and  subtilty  of  its  approach  :  the  power  of  love  had  overmastered 
him.  He  could  only  realize  that  it  was  here  and  he  must  obey.  Late 
into  the  morning  hours  he  lay  there,  his  brain  whirling  with  its  varied 
and  bewildering  emotions.  Win  her  he  must,  or  the  blackness  and 
desolation  of  the  past  five  years  would  be  as  nothing  compared  with 
the  misery  of  the  years  to  come.  Woo  her  he  would,  and  not  without 
hope,  if  ever  woman's  eyes  gave  proof  of  sympathy  and  trust.  But 
now  at  last  he  realized  that  the  time  had  come  when  for  her  sake — not 
for  his — he  must  adopt  a  new  course.  Hitherto  he  had  scorned  and 
repelled  all  overtures  that  wei'e  not  prefaced  by  an  expression  of  belief 
in  his  utter  innocence  in  the  past.  Hitherto  he  had  chosen  to  live  the 
life  of  an  anchorite,  and  had  abjured  the  society  of  women.  Hitherto 
he  had  refused  the  half-extended  proffers  of  comrades  who  had  sought 
to  continue  the  investigation  of  a  cliain  of  circumstances  that,  complete, 
might  have  proved  him  a  wronged  and  defrauded  man.  The  missing 
links  were  not  beyond  recovery  in  skilful  hands ;  but  in  the  shock  and 
horror  which  he  felt  on  realizing  that  it  was  not  only  possible  but  cer- 
tain that  a  jury  of  his  comrade  officers  could  deem  him  guilty  of  a  low 
crime,  he  hid  his  face  and  turned  from  all.  Noto  the  time  had  come 
to  reopen  the  case.  He  well  knew  that  a  revulsion  of  feeling  had  set 
in  which  nothing  but  his  own  stubbornness  held  in  check.  He  knew 
that  he  had  friends  and  sympathizers  among  officers  high  in  rank.  He 
had  only  a  few  days  before  heard  from  Major  Waldron's  lips  a  strong 
intimation  that  it  was  his  duty  to  "  come  out  of  his  shell"  and  reassert 
himself.  "  You  must  remember  this,  Hayne,"  said  he  :  "  you  had  been 
only  two  years  in  service  when  tried  by  court-martial.  You  were  an 
utter  stranger  to  every  member  of  that  court.  There  was  nothing  but 
the  evidence  to  go  upon,  and  that  was  all  against  you.  The  court  was 
made  up  of  officers  from  other  regiments,  and  w^as  at  least  impartial. 
The  evidence  was  almost  all  from  your  own,  and  was  presumably  well 
founded.  You  would  call  no  witnesses  for  defence.  You  made  your 
almost  defiant  statement ;  refused  counsel ;  refused  advice ;  and  what 
could  the  court  do  but  convict  and  sentence  ?  Had  I  been  a  member 
of  the  court  I  would  have  voted  just  as  was  done  by  the  court ;  and 
yet  I  believe  you  now  an  utterly  innocent  man." 

So,  apparently,  did  the  colonel  regard  him.  So,  too,  did  several  of 
the  officers  of  the  cavalry.  So,  too,  would  most  of  the  youngsters  of 
his  own  regiment  if  he  would  only  give  them  half  a  chance.  In  any 
event,  the  score  was  wiped  out  now ;  he  could  afford  to  take  a  wife  if  a 
woman  learned  to  love  him,  and  what  wealth  of  tenderness  and  devo- 
tion was  he  not  ready  to  lavish  on  one  who  would  !  But  he  would  offer 
no  one  a  tarnished  name.  First  and  foremost  he  must  now  stand  up  and 
fight  that  calumny, — "  come  out  of  his  shell,"  as  Waldron  had  said,  and 


786  ^^-E  DESERTER. 

give  people  a  chance  to  see  what  manner  of  man  he  was.    God  helping 
him,  he  would,  and  that  without  delay. 

XIV. 

"  The  best-laid  schemes  o'  mice  an'  men  gang  aft  a-gley."  Mrs. 
Rayner,  ill  in  mind  and  body,  had  yielded  to  her  lord's  entreaties  and 
determined  to  start  eastward  with  her  sister  without  delay.  Pack- 
ing was  already  begun.  Miss  Travers  had  promised  herself  that  she 
would  within  thirty-six  hours  put  Mr.  Hayne  in  possession  of  certain 
facts  or  theories  which  in  her  opinion  bore  strongly  upon  the  "  clear- 
ing up"  of  the  case  against  him ;  Mr.  Hayne  had  determined  that  he 
would  see  Major  Waldron  on  the  coming  day  and  begin  active  efforts 
towards  the  restoration  of  his  social  rights ;  the  doctor  had  about  decided 
on  a  new  project  for  inducing  Clancy  to  unbosom  himself  of  what  he 
knew ;  Captain  Rayner — tired  of  the  long  struggle — was  almost  ready 
to  welcome  anything  which  should  establish  his  subaltern's  innocence, 
and  was  on  the  point  of  asking  for  six  months'  leave  just  as  soon  as  he 
had  arranged  for  Clancy's  final  discharge  from  service :  he  had  reasons 
for  staying  at  the  post  until  that  Hibernian  household  was  fairly  and 
squarely  removed  ;  and  Mrs.  Clancy's  plan  was  to  take  Mike  to  the 
distant  East,  "  where  she  had  frinds."  There  were  other  schemes  and 
projects,  no  doubt,  but  these  mainly  concerned  our  leading  characters, 
and  one  and  all  they  were  put  to  the  right-about  by  the  events  of  the 
following  day. 

The  colonel,  with  his  gruff  second  in  command,  Major  Stannard, 
had  been  under  orders  for  several  days  to  proceed  on  this  particular 
date  to  a  large  town  a  day's  journey  eastward  by  rail.  A  court-martial 
composed  mainly  of  field-officers  was  ordered  there  to  assemble  for 
the  trial  of  an  old  captain  of  cavalry  whose  propensity  it  was  not  so 
much  to  get  drunk  as  never  to  get  drunk  without  concomitant  publicity 
and  discovery.  It  was  a  rare  thing  for  the  old  war-dog  to  take  so  much 
as  a  glass  of  wine ;  he  went  for  months  without  it ;  but  the  instant 
he  began  to  drink  he  was  moved  to  do  or  say  something  disreputable, 
and  that  was  the  trouble  now.  He  was  an  unlucky  old  trooper,  who 
had  risen  from  the  lowest  grades,  fought  with  credit,  and  even,  at 
times,  commanded  his  regiment,  during  the  war ;  but  war  records  could 
not  save  him  when  he  wouldn't  save  himself,  and  he  had  to  go.  The 
court  was  ordered,  and  the  result  was  a  foregone  conclusion.  The  colonel, 
his  adjutant,  and  Major  Stannard  were  to  drive  to  town  during  the  after- 
noon and  take  the  east-bound  train,  leaving  Major  Waldron  in  command 
of  the  post ;  but  before  guard-mounting  a  telegram  was  received  which 
was  sent  from  department  head-quarters  the  evening  before,  announcing 
that  one  of  the  officers  detailed  for  the  court  was  seriously  ill,  and  direct^ 
ing  Major  Waldron  to  take  his  place.  So  it  resulted  in  the  post  being 
left  to  the  command  of  the  senior  captain  present  for  duty ;  and  that 
man  was  Captain  Buxton.  He  had  never  had  so  big  a  command  before 
in  all  his  life. 

Major  Waldron  of  course  had  to  go  home  and  make  his  preparations. 
Mr.  Hayne,  therefore,  had  brief  opportunity  to  speak  with  him.    It  was 


THE  DESERTER.  787 

seen,  however,  that  they  had  a  short  talk  together  on  the  major's  piazza, 
and  that  when  they  parted  the  major  shook  him  warmly  and  cordially 
by  the  hand.  Rayner,  Buxton,  Ross,  and  some  juniors  happened  to  be 
coming  down  along  the  walk  at  the  moment,  and,  seeing  them,  as  though 
with  pointed  meaning  the  major  called  out,  so  that  all  could  hear, — 

"  By  the  way,  Hayne,  I  wish  you  would  drop  in  occasionally  while 
I'm  gone  and  take  Mrs.  Waldron  out  for  a  walk  or  drive :  my  horses 
are  always  at  your  service.  And — a — I'll  write  to  you  about  that  matter 
the  moment  I've  had  a  chance  to  talk  with  the  colonel, — to-morrow, 
probably."  And  Hayne  touched  his  cap  in  parting  salute,  and  went 
blithely  off  with  brightened  eye  and  rising  color. 

Buxton  glowered  after  him  a  moment,  and  conversation  suddenly 
ceased  in  their  party.     Finally  he  blurted  out, — 

"  Strikes  me  your  major  might  do  a  good  deal  better  by  himself  and 
his  regiment  by  standing  up  for  its  morale  and  discipline  than  by  openly 
flaunting  his  favoritism  for  convicts  in  our  faces.  If  I  were  in  your 
regiment  I'd  cut  kimj' 

"  You  wouldn't  have  to,''  muttered  one  of  the  group  to  his  neigh- 
bor :  "  the  cut  would  have  been  on  the  other  side  long  ago."  And  the 
speaker  was  Buxton's  own  subaltern. 

Rayner  said  nothing.  His  eyes  were  troubled  and  anxious,  and  he 
looked  after  Hayne  with  an  expression  far  more  wearied  than  vindictive. 

"  The  major  is  fond  of  music,  captain,"  said  Mr.  Ross,  with  mis- 
chievous intent.  "  He  hasn't  been  to  the  club  since  the  night  you  sang 
'  Eileen  Alanna.'     That  was  about  the  time  Hayne's  piano  came." 

"  Yes,"  put  in  Foster,  "  Mrs.  Waldron  says  he  goes  and  owls  Hayne 
now  night  after  night  just  to  hear  him  play." 

"  It  would  be  well  for  him,  then,  if  he  kept  a  better  guard  on  Mr. 
Hayne's  other  visitors,"  said  Buxton,  with  a  black  scowl.  "  I  don't 
know  how  you  gentlemen  in  the  Riflers  look  upon  such  matters,  but  in 
the  — th  the  man  who  dared  to  introduce  a  woman  of  the  town  into  his 
quarters  would  be  kicked  out  in  short  order." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  anybody  accuses  Hayne  of  that,  do 
you?"  asked  Ross,  in  amaze. 

"  I  do, — -just  that.  Only,  I  say  this  to  you,  it  has  but  just  come  to 
light,  and  only  one  or  two  know  it.  To  prove  it  positively  he's  got 
to  be  allowed  more  rope ;  for  he  got  her  out  of  the  way  last  time  before 
we  could  clinch  the  matter.  If  he  suspects  it  is  known  he  won't  re- 
peat it ;  if  kept  to  ourselves  he  will  probably  try  it  again, — and  be 
caught.     Now  I  charge  you  all  to  regard  this  as  confidential." 

"  But,  Captain  Buxton,"  said  Ross,  "  this  is  so  serious  a  matter 
that  I  don't  like  to  believe  it.     Who  can  prove  such  a  story  ?" 

"  Of  coursfe  not,  Mr.  Ross.  You  are  quite  ready  to  treat  a  man  as 
a  thief,  but  can't  believe  he'll  do  another  thing  that  is  disreputable. 
That  is  characteristic  of  your  style  of  reasoning,"  said  Buxton,  with 
biting  sarcasm. 

"  You  can't  wither  me  with  contempt.  Captain  Buxton.  I  have  a 
right  to  my  opinion,  and  I  have  known  Mr.  Hayne  for  years,  and  if  I 
did  believe  him  guilty  of  one  crime  five  years  ago  I'm  not  so  ready  to 
believe  him  guilty  of  anothei*  now.     This  isn't — isn't  like  Hayne." 


788  TEE  DESERTER. 

"  No,  of  course  not,  as  I  said  before.  Now,  will  you  tell  me,  Mr. 
Ross,  just  why  Mr.  Hayne  chose  that  ramshackle  old  shanty  out  there 
on  the  prairie,  all  by  himself,  unless  it  was  to  be  where  he  could  have 
his  chosen  companions  with  him  at  night  and  no  one  be  the  wiser?" 

"  I  don't  pretend  to  fathom  his  motives,  sir ;  but  I  don't  believe  it 
was  for  any  such  purpose  as  you  seem  to  think." 

"In  other  words,  you  think  I'm  circulating  baseless  scandal,  do 
you  ?" 

"  I  have  said  nothing  of  the  kind ;  and  I  protest  against  your  put- 
ting words  into  my  mouth  I  never  used." 

"  You  intimated  as  much,  anyhow,  and  you  plainly  don't  believe  it." 

"  Well,  I  don't  believe — that  is,  I  don't  see  how  it  could  happen." 

"  Couldn't  the  woman  drive  out  from  town  after  dark,  send  the 
carriage  back,  and  have  it  call  for  her  again  in  the  morning  ?"  asked 
Buxton. 

"  Possibly.  Still,  it  isn't  a  proved  fact  that  a  woman  spent  the 
night  at  Hayne's,  even  if  a  carriage  was  seen  coming  out.  You've  got 
hold  of  some  Sudsville  gossip,  probably,"  replied  Ross. 

"  I  have,  have  I  ?  By  God,  sir,  •  I'll  teach  you  better  manners 
before  we  get  through  with  this  question.  Do  you  know  who  saw 
the  carriage,  and  who  saw  the  woman,  both  at  Hayne's  quarters?" 

"  Certainly  I  don't !  What  I  don't  understand  is  how  you  should 
have  been  made  the  recipient  of  the  story." 

"  Mr.  Ross,  just  govern  your  tongue,  sir,  and  remember  you  are 
speaking  to  your  superior  officer,  and  don't  venture  to  treat  my  state^ 
ments  with  disrespect  hereafter.     I  saw  it  myself!" 

"  You  !"  gulped  Ross,  while  amaze  and  incredulity  shot  across  his 
startled  face. 

"  You  !"  exclaimed  others  of  the  group,  in  evident  astonishment 
and  dismay.  Rayner  alone  looked  unchanged.  It  was  no  news  to  him, 
while  to  every  other  man  in  the  party  it  was  a  shock.  Up  to  that 
instant  the  prevailing  belief  had  been,  with  Ross,  that  Buxton  had 
found  some  garrison  gossip  and  was  building  an  edifice  thereon.  His 
positive  statement,  however,  was  too  much  for  the  most  incredulous. 

"  Now  what  have  you  to  say  ?"  he  asked,  in  rude  triumph. 

There  was  no  answer  for  a  moment ;  then  Ross  spoke : 

"  Of  course,  Captain  Buxton,  I  withdraw  any  expression  of  doubt. 
It  never  occurred  to  me  that  you  could  have  seen  it.  May  I  ask  when 
and  how?" 

"  The  last  time  I  was  officer  of  the  day,  sir  ;  and  Captain  Rayner 
is  my  witness  as  to  the  time.  Others,  whom  I  need  not  mention,  saw 
it  with  me.  There  is  no  mistake,  sir.  The  woman  was  there."  And 
Buxton  stood  enjoying  the  effect. 

Ross  looked  white  and  dazed.  He  turned  slowly  away,  hesitated, 
looked  back,  then  exclaimed, — 

"  You  are  sure  it  was — it  was  not  some  one  that  had  a  right  to  be 
there?" 

"  How  could  it  be  ?"  said  Buxton,  gruffly.  "  You  know  he  has 
not  an  acquaintance  in  town,  or  here,  who  could  be  with  him  there  at 
night." 


THE  DESERTER.  789 

"  Does  the  commanding  officer  know  of  it  ?"  asked  Mr.  Royce,  after 
a  moment's  silence. 

"  I  am  tiie  commanding  officer,  Mr.  Royce,"  said  Buxton,  with 
majestic  dignity, — "  at  least  I  will  be  after  twelve  o'clock ;  and  you 
may  depend  upon  it,  gentlemen,  this  thing  will  not  occur  while  I  am 
in  command  without  its  receiving  the  exact  ti'eatment  it  deserves.  Re- 
member, now,  not  a  word  of  this  to  anybody.  You  are  as  much  in- 
terested as  I  am  in  bringing  to  justice  a  man  who  will  disgrace  his  uni- 
form and  his  regiment  and  insult  every  lady  in  the  garrison  by  such  an 
act.  This  sort  of  thing  of  course  will  run  him  out  of  the  service  for 
good  and  all.  We  simply  have  to  be  sure  of  our  ground  and  make  the 
evidence  conclusive.  Leave  that  to  me  the  next  time  it  happens.  I 
repeat,  say  nothing  of  this  to  any  one." 

But  Rayner  had  already  told  his  wife. 

Just  as  Major  Waldron  was  driving  off  to  the  station  that  bright 
April  afternoon  and  his  carriage  was  whirling  through  the  east  gate,  the 
driver  caught  sight  of  Lieutenant  Hayne  running  up  Prairie  Avenue, 
waving  his  hand  and  shouting  to  him.  He  reined  in  his  spirited  bays 
with  some  difficulty,  and  Hayne  finally  caught  up  with  them. 

"  What  is  it,  Hayne  ?"  asked  Waldron,  with  kindly  interest,  leaning 
out  of  his  carriage. 

"  They  will  be  back  to-night,  sir.  Here  is  a  telegram  that  has  just 
reached  me." 

"  I  can't  tell  you  how  sorry  I  am  not  to  be  here  to  welcome  them ; 
but  Mrs.  Waldron  will  be  delighted,  and  she  will  come  to  call  the 
moment  you  let  her  know.  Keep  them  till  I  get  back,  if  you  possibly 
can." 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir.     Good-by." 

"  Good-by,  Hayne.     God  bless  you,  and — good  luck  !" 

A  little  later  that  afternoon  Mrs.  Rayner  had  occasion  to  go  into 
her  sister's  room.  It  was  almost  sunset,  and  Nellie  had  been  summoned 
down-stairs  to  see  visitors.  Both  the  ladies  were  busy  with  their  pack- 
ing,— Mrs.  Rayner,  as  became  an  invalid,  superintending,  and  Miss 
Travers,  as  became  the  junior,  doing  all  the  work.  It  was  rather  trying 
to  pack  all  the  trunks  and  receive  visitors  of  both  sexes  at  odd  hours. 
Some  of  her  garrison  acquaintances  would  have  been  glad  to  come  and 
help,  but  those  whom  she  would  have  welcomed  were  not  agreeable  to 
the  lady  of  the  house,  and  those  the  lady  of  the  house  would  have 
chosen  were  not  agreeable  to  her.  The  relations  between  the  sisters 
were  somewhat  strained  and  unnatural,  and  had  been  growing  more  and 
more  so  for  several  days  past.  Mrs.  Rayner's  desk  was  already  packed 
away.  She  wanted  to  send  a  note,  and  bethought  her  of  her  sister's 
portfolio.  Opening  it,  she  drew  out  some  paper  and  envelopes,  and 
with  the  latter  came  an  envelope  sealed  and  directed.  One  glance  at 
its  superscription  sent  the  blood  to  her  cheek  and  fire  to  her  eye.  Was 
it  possible  ?  Was  it  credible  ?  Her  pet,  her  baby  sister,  her  pride  and 
delight, — until  she  found  her  stronger  in  will, — her  proud-spirited, 
truthful  Nell,  was  beyond  question  corresponding  with  Lieutenant 
Hayne  !  Here  was  a  note  addressed  to  him.  How  many  more  might 
not  have  been   exchanged  ?     Ruthlessly  now  she  explored  the  desk, 


790  ^^^  DESERTER. 

searching  for  something  from  him,  but  her  scrutiny  was  vain.  Oh, 
what  could  she  say,  what  could  she  do,  to  convey  to  her  erring  sister 
an  adequate  sense  of  the  extent  of  her  displeasure  ?  How  could  she 
bring  her  to  realize  the  shame,  the  guilt,  the  scandal,  of  her  course  ? 
She,  Nellie  Travers,  the  betrothed  wife  of  Steven  Van  Antwerp,  corre- 
sponding secretly  with  this — this  scoundrel,  whose  past,  crime-laden  as 
it  had  been,  was  as  nothing  compared  to  the  present  wath  its  degrada- 
tion of  vice  ?  Ah  !  she  had  it !  What  would  ever  move  her  as  that 
could  and  must  ? 

When  the  trumpets  rang  out  their  sunset  call  and  the  boom  of  the 
evening  gun  shook  the  windows  in  Fort  Warrener  and  Nellie  Travers 
came  running  up-stairs  again  to  her  room,  she  started  at  the  sight  that 
met  her  eyes.  There  stood  Mrs.  Rayner,  like  Juno  in  Avrath  inflexible, 
glaring  at  her  from  the  commanding  height  of  which  she  was  so  proud, 
and  pointing  in  speechless  indignation  at  the  little  note  that  lay  upon 
the  open  portfolio. 

For  a  moment  neither  spoke.  Then  Miss  Travers,  who  had  turned 
very  white,  but  whose  blue  eyes  never  flinched  and  whose  lips  were  set 
and  whose  little  foot  was  tapping  the  carpet  ominously,  thus  began : 

"  Kate,  I  do  not  recognize  your  right  to  overhaul  my  desk  or  super- 
vise my  correspondence." 

"  Understand  this  first,  Cornelia,"  said  Mrs.  Rayner,  who  hated  the 
baptismal  name  as  much  as  did  her  sister,  and  used  it  only  when  she 
desired  to  be  especially  and  desperately  impressive :  "  I  found  it  by 
accident.  I  never  dreamed  of  such  a  possibility  as  this.  I  never, 
even  after  what  I  have  seen  and  heard,  could  have  believed  you  guilty 
of  this ;  but,  now  that  I  have  found  it,  I  have  the  right  to  ask,  what 
are  its  contents  ?" 

"  I  decline  to  tell  you." 

"  Do  you  deny  my  right  to  inquire  ?" 

"  I  will  not  discuss  that  question  now.  The  other  is  far  graver. 
I  will  not  tell  you,  Kate,  except  this :  there  is  no  word  there  that  an 
engaged  girl  should  not  write." 

"  Of  that  I  mean  to  satisfy  myself,  or  rather " 

"  You  will  not  open  it,  Kate.  No  !  Put  that  letter  down  !  You 
have  never  known  me  to  prevaricate  in  the  faintest  degree,  and  you 
have  no  excuse  for  doubting.  I  will  furnish  a  copy  of  that  for  Mr. 
Van  Antwerp  at  any  time ;  but  you  cannot  see  it." 

"  You  still  persist  in  your  wicked  and  unnatural  intimacy  with  that 
man,  even  after  all  that  I  have  told  you.  Now  for  the  last  time  hear 
me :  I  have  striven  not  to  tell  you  this  ;  I  have  striven  not  to  sully 
your  thoughts  by  such  a  revelation ;  but,  since  nothing  else  will  check 
you,  tell  it  I  must,  and  what  I  tell  you  my  husband  told  me  in  sacred 
confidence,  though  soon  enough  it  will  be  a  scandal  to  the  whole  gar- 
rison." 

And  when  darkness  settled  down  on  Fort  Warrener  that  starlit 
April  evening  and  the  first  warm  breeze  from  the  south  came  sighing 
about  the  casements  and  one  by  one  the  lights  appeared  along  officers' 
row,  there  was  no  light  in  Nellie  Travers's  window.  The  little  note  lay 
in  ashes  on  the  hearth,  and  she,  with  burning,  shame-stricken  cheeks, 


THE  DESERTER.  791 

with  a  black,  scorching,  gnawing  pain  at  her  lieart,  was  hiding  her  face 
in  her  pillow. 

And  yet  it  was  a  jolly  evening,  after  all, — that  is,  for  some  hours 
and  for  some  people.  As  Mrs.  Rayner  and  her  sister  were  so  soon  to 
go,  probably  by  the  morrow's  train  if  their  section  could  be  secured, 
the  garrison  had  decided  to  have  an  informal  dance  as  a  suitable  fare- 
well. Their  announcement  of  impending  departure  had  come  so  sud- 
denly and  unexpectedly  that  there  was  no  time  to  prepare  anything 
elaborate,  such  as  a  german  with  favors,  etc. ;  but  good  music  and  an 
extemporized  supper  could  be  had  without  trouble.  The  colonel's  wife 
and  most  of  the  cavalry  ladies,  on  consultation,  had  decided  that  it  was 
the  very  thing  to  do,  and  the  young  officers  took  hold  with  a  will : 
they  were  always  ready  for  a  dance.  Now  that  Mrs.  Rayner  was 
really  going,  the  quarrel  should  be  ignored,  and  the  ladies  would  all  be 
as  pleasant  to  her  as  though  nothing  had  happened, — provided,  of  course, 
she  dropped  her  absurd  airs  of  injured  womanhood  and  behaved  with 
courtesy.  The  colonel  had  had  a  brief  talk  with  his  better  half  before 
starting  for  the  train,  and  suggested  that  it  was  very  probable  that  Mrs. 
Rayner  had  seen  the  folly  of  her  ways  by  that  time, — the  captain  cer- 
tainly had  been  behaving  as  though  he  regretted  the  estrangement, — 
and  if  encouraged  by  a  "  let's-drop-the- whole- thing"  sort  of  manner 
she  would  be  glad  to  reciprocate.  He  felt  far  less  anxiety  herein  than 
he  did  in  leaving  the  post  to  the  command  of  Captain  Buxton.  So 
scrupulously  had  he  been  courteous  to  that  intractable  veteran  that 
Buxton  had  no  doubt  in  his  own  mind  that  the  colonel  looked  upon  him 
as  the  model  officer  of  the  regiment.  It  was  singularly  unfortunate 
that  he  should  have  to  be  left  in  command,  but  his  one  or  two  seniors 
among  the  captains  were  away  on  long  leave,  and  there  was  no  help  for 
it.  The  colonel,  seriously  disquieted,  had  a  few  words  of  earnest  talk 
with  him  before  leaving  the  post,  cautioning  him  so  particularly  not  to 
interfere  with  any  of  the  established  details  and  customs  that  Buxton 
got  very  much  annoyed,  and  showed  it. 

"  If  your  evidence  were  not  imperatively  necessary  before  this  court, 
I  declare  I  believe  I'd  leave  you  behind,"  said  the  colonel  to  his  adju- 
tant. "  There  is  no  telling  what  mischief  Captain  Buxton  won't  do  if 
left  to  himself" 

It  must  have  been  near  midnight,  and  the  hop  was  going  along 
beautifully,  and  Captain  Rayner,  who  was  officer  of  the  day,  was  just 
escorting  his  wife  in  to  supper,  and  Nellie,  although  looking  a  trifle 
tired  and  pale,  was  chatting  brightly  with  a  knot  of  young  officers, 
when  a  corporal  of  the  guard  came  to  the  door :  "  The  commanding 
officer's  compliments,  and  he  desires  to  see  the  officer  of  the  day  at 
once." 

There  was  a  general  laugh.  "  Isn't  that  Buxton  all  over  ?  The 
colonel  would  never  think  of  sending  for  an  officer  in  the  dead  of  night, 
except  for  a  fire  or  alarm ;  but  old  Bux.  begins  putting  on  frills  the 
moment  he  gets  a  chance.  Thank  God,  I'm  not  on  guard  to-night !'' 
said  Mr.  Royce. 

"What  can  he  want  with  you?"  asked  Mrs.  Rayner,  pettishly. 
"  The  idea  of  one  captain  ordering  another  around  like  this  !" 


792  THE   DESERTER. 

"  I'll  be  back  in  five  minutes,"  said  Rayner,  as  lie  picked  up  his 
sword  and  disappeared. 

But  ten  minutes — fifteen — passed,  and  he  came  not.  Mrs.  Ray- 
ner  grew  worried,  and  Mr.  Blake  led  her  out  on  the  rude  piazza  to  see 
what  they  could  see,  and  several  others  strolled  out  at  the  same  time. 
The  music  had  ceased,  and  the  night  air  was  not  too  cold.  Not  a  soul 
was  in  sight  out  on  the  starlit  parade.  Not  an  unusual  sound  was 
heard.  There  was  nothing  to  indicate  the  faintest  trouble ;  and  yet 
Captain  Buxton,  the  commanding  officer,  had  been  called  out  by  his 
"striker"  or  soldier-servant  befi^re  eleven  o'clock,  had  not  returned  at 
all,  and  in  little  over  half  an  hour  had  sent  for  the  officer  of  the  day. 
What  did  it  mean  ?  Questioning  and  talking  thus  among  themselves, 
somebody  said,  "  Hark  !"  and  held  up  a  warning  hand. 

Faint,  far,  muffled,  there  sounded  on  the  night  air  a  shot,  then  a 
woman's  scream  ;  then  all  was  still. 

"  Mrs.  Clancy  again  !"  said  one. 

"  That  was  not  Mrs.  Clancy  :  'twas  a  far  different  voice,"  answered 
Blake,  and  tore  away  across  the  parade  as  fast  as  his  long  legs  would 
carry  him. 

"Look  !  The  guard  are  running  too  !"  cried  Mrs.  Waldron.  "  What 
can  it  be?"  And,  sure  enough,  the  gleam  of  the  rifles  could  be  seen 
as  the  men  ran  rapidly  away  in  the  direction  of  the  east  gate.  Mrs. 
Rayner  had  grown  ghastly,  and  was  looking  at  Miss  Travers,  who  with 
white  lips  and  clinched  hands  stood  leaning  on  one  of  the  wooden 
posts  and  gazing  with  all  her  eyes  across  the  dim  level.  Others  came 
hurrying  out  from  the  hall.  Other  young  officers  ran  in  pursuit  of  the 
first  starters.  "  What's  the  matter  ?  What's  happened  ?"  were  the 
questions  that  flew  from  lip  to  lip. 

"  I — I  must  go  home,"  faltered  Mrs.  Rayner.     "  Come,  Nellie  !" 

"  Oh,  don't  go,  Mrs.  Rayner.     It  can't  be  anything  serious." 

But,  even  as  they  urged,  a  man  came  running  towards  them. 

"  Is  the  doctor  here  ?"  he  panted. 

"  Yes.  What's  the  trouble  ?"  asked  Dr.  Pease,  as  he  squeezed  his 
burly  form  through  the  crowded  door-way. 

"You're  wanted,  sir.  Loot'nant  Hayne's  shot;  an'  Captain  Ray- 
ner he's  hurt  too,  sir." 

XV. 

Straight  as  an  arrow  Mr.  Blake  had  sped  across  the  parade,  darted 
through  the  east  gate,  and,  turning,  had  arrived  breathless  at  the  wooden 
porch  of  Hayne's  quarters.  Two  bewildered-looking  members  of  the 
guard  were  at  the  door.  Blake  pushed  his  way  through  the  little  hall- 
way and  into  the  dimly-lighted  parlor,  where  a  strange  scene  met  his 
eyes  :  Lieutenant  Hayne  lay  senseless  and  white  upon  the  lounge  across 
the  room ;  a  young  and  pretty  woman,  singularly  like  him  in  feature 
and  in  the  color  of  her  abundant  tresses,  was  kneeling  beside  him,  chafing 
his  hands,  imploring  him  to  speak, — to  look  at  her, — unmindful  of  the 
fact  that  her  feet  were  bare  and  that  only  a  loose  wrapper  was  thrown 
over  herVhite  night-dress ;  Captain  Rayner  was  seated  in  a  chair,  deathly 
white^  and  striving  to  stanch  the  blood  that  flowed  from  a  deep  gash 


THE  DESERTER.  793 

in  his  temple  and  forehead ;  he  seemed  still  stunned  as  by  the  force  of 
the  blow  that  had  felled  hira  ;  and  Buxton,  speechless  with  amaze  and 
heaven  only  knows  what  other  emotions,  was  glaring  at  a  tall,  athletic 
stranger  who,  in  stocking-feet,  undershirt,  and  trousers,  held  by  three 
frightened-looking  soldiers  and  covered  by  the  carbine  of  a  fourth,  was 
hurling  defiance  and  denunciation  at  the  commanding  officer.  A  re- 
volver lay  upon  the  floor  at  the  feet  of  a  corporal  of  the  guard,  who 
w^as  groaning  in  pain.  A  thin  veil  of  powder-smoke  floated  through 
the  room.  As  Blake  leaped  in, — his  cavalry  shoulder-knots  and  helmet- 
cords  gleaming  in  the  light, — a  flash  of  recognition  shot  into  the  stranger's 
eyes,  and  he  curbed  his  fearful  excitement  and  stopped  short  in  his  wrath. 

"  What  devil's  work  is  this  ?"  demanded  Blake,  glaring  intuitively 
at  Buxton. 

"  Ttiese  people  resisted  my  guards,  and  had  to  take  the  consequences," 
said  Buxton,  with  surly — yet  shaken — dignity. 

"  What  were  the  guards  doing  here  ?  What,  In  God's  name,  are  you 
doing  here?"  demanded  Blake,  forgetful  of  all  consideration  of  rank 
and  command  in  the  face  of  such  evident  catastrophe. 

"  I  ordered  them  here, — to  enter  and  search." 

A  pause. 

"Search  what?— what  for?" 

"  For — a  woman  I  had  reason  to  believe  he  had  brought  out  here 
from  town." 

"  Wliat  f  You  infernal  idiot !  Why,  she's  his  own  sister,  and  this 
gentleman's  w^ife  !" 

The  silence,  broken  only  by  the  hard  breathing  of  some  of  the 
excited  men  and  the  moaning  cry  of  the  woman,  was  for  a  moment 
intense. 

"  Isn't  this  Mr.  Hurley  ?"  asked  Blake,  suddenly,  as  though  to  make 
sure,  and  turning  one  instant  from  his  furious  glare  at  his  superior 
officer.  The  stranger,  still  held,  though  no  longer  struggling,  replied 
between  his  set  teeth, — 

"  Certainly.     I've  told  him  so." 

"  By  heaven,  Buxton,  is  there  no  limit  to  your  asininity  ?  What 
fearful  work  will  you  do  next  ?" 

"  I'll  arrest  you,  sir,  if  you  speak  another  disrespectful  word  !" 
thundered  Buxton,  recovering  consciousness  that  as  commanding  officer 
he  could  defend  himself  against  Blake's  assault. 

"  Do  it  and  be you  know  what  I  would,  say  if  a  lady  were  not 

present !  Do  it,  if  you  think  you  can  stand  having  this  thing  ventilated 
by  a  court.  Pah  !  I  can't  waste  words  on  you.  Who's  gone  for  the 
doctor?  Here,  you  men,  let  go  of  Mr.  Hurley  now.  Help  me,  Mr. 
Hurley,  please.  Get  your  wife  back  to  lier  room.  Bring  me  some 
water,  one  of  you."  And  with  that  he  was  bending  over  Hayne  and 
unbuttoning  the  fatigue-uniform  in  which  he  was  still  dressed.  Another 
moment,  and  the  doctor  had  come  in,  and  with  him  half  the  young 
officers  of  the  garrison.  Rayner  was  led  away  to  his  own  quarters. 
Buxton,  dazed  and  frightened  now,  ordered  the  guards  back  to  their 
post,  and  stood  pondering  over  the  enormity  of  his  blunder.  No  one 
spoke  to  him  or  paid  the  faintest  attention  other  than  to  elbow  him  out 

Vol.  XXXIX.— 52 


794  ^^-^  DESERTER. 

of  the  way  occasionally.  The  doctor  never  so  much  as  noticed  hira. 
Blake  had  briefly  recounted  tlie  catastrophe  to  those  who  first  arrived, 
and  as  the  story  went  from  mouth  to  mouth  it  grew  no  better  for  Buxton. 
Once  he  turned  short  on  Mr.  Foster  and  in  aggrieved  and  sullen  tone 
remarked, — 

"  I  thought  you  fellows  in  the  Riflers  said  he  had  no  relations." 

"  We  weren't  apt  to  be  invited  to  meet  them  if  he  had  ;  but  I  don't 
know  that  anybody  was  in  position  to  know  anything  about  it.  What's 
that  got  to  do  with  this  aifair,  I'd  like  to  hear?" 

At  last  somebody  took  hira  home.  Mrs.  Waldron,  meantime,  had 
arrived  and  been  admitted  to  Mrs.  Hurley's  room.  The  doctor  refused 
to  go  to  Captain  Rayner's,  even  when  a  messenger  came  from  Mrs. 
Rayner  herself.  He  referred  her  to  his  assistant.  Dr.  Grimes.  Hayne 
had  regained  consciousness,  but  was  sorely  shaken.  He  had  been  floored 
by  a  blow  from  the  butt  of  a  musket ;  but  the  report  that  he  was  shot 
proved  happily  untrue.  His  right  hand  still  lay  near  the  hilt  of  his 
light  sword  :  there  was  little  question  that  he  had  raised  his  weapon 
against  a  superior  officer  and  would  have  used  it  with  telling  effect. 

Few  people  slept  that  night  along  officers'  row.  Never  had  Warrener 
heard  of  such  excitement.  Buxton  knew  not  what  to  do.  He  paced  the 
floor  in  agony  of  mind,  for  he  well  understood  that  there  was  no  shirk- 
ing the  responsibility.  From  beginning  to  end  he  was  the  cause  of  the 
whole  catastrophe.  He  had  gone  so  far  as  to  order  his  corporal  to  fire, 
and  he  knew  it  could  be  proved  against  him.  Thank  God,  the  per- 
plexed corporal  had  shot  high,  and  the  other  men,  barring  the  one  who 
had  saved  Rayner  from  a  furious  lunge  of  the  lieutenant's  sword,  had 
used  their  weapons  as  gingerly  and  reluctantly  as  possible.  At  the  very 
least,  he  knew,  an  investigation  and  fearful  scandal  must  come  of  it. 
Night  though  it  was,  he  sent  for  the  acting  adjutant  and  several  of  his 
brother  captains,  and,  setting  refreshments  before  them,  besought  their 
advice.  He  was  still  commanding  officer  de  jure,  but  he  had  lost  all 
stomach  for  its  functions.  He  would  have  been  glad  to  send  for  Blake 
and  beg  his  pardon  for  submitting  to  his  insubordinate  and  abusive  lan- 
guage, if  that  course  could  have  stopped  inquiry ;  but  he  well  knew  that 
the  whole  thing  would  be  noised  abroad  in  less  than  no  time.  At  first 
he  thought  to  give  orders  against  the  telegraph-operator's  sending  any 
messages  concernina:  the  matter  ;  but  that  would  hav^e  been  onlv  a  tem- 
porary  hinderance :  he  could  not  control  the  instruments  and  operators 
in  town,  only  three  miles  away.  He  almost  wished  he  had  been 
knocked  down,  shot,  or  stabbed  in  the  mUee;  but  he  had  kept  in  the 
rear  when  the  skirmish  began,  and  Rayner  and  the  corporal  were  the 
sufferers.  They  had  been  knocked  "  endwise"  by  Mr.  Hurley's  prac- 
tised fists  aft€r  Hayne  was  struck  down  by  the  corporal's  musket.  It 
was  the  universal  sentiment  among  the  officers  of  the  — th  as  they 
scattered  to  their  homes  that  Buxton  had  "  Avound  himself  up  this  time, 
anyhow  ;"  and  no  one  had  any  sympathy  for  him, — not  one.  The  very 
best  light  in  which  he  could  tell  the  story  only  showed  the  affair  as  a 
flagrant  and  inexcusable  outrage. 

Captain  Rayner,  too,  was  in  fearful  plight.  He  had  simply  obeyed 
orders  ;  but  all  the  old  story  of  his  persecution  of  Hayne  would  now  be 


THE  DESERTER.  795 

revived  ;  all  men  would  see  in  his  participation  in  the  affair  only  addi- 
tional reason  to  adjudge  him  cruelly  persistent  in  his  hatred  of  the  young 
officer,  and,  in  view  of  the  utter  ruthlessness  and  wrong  of  this  assault, 
would  be  more  than  ever  confident  of  the  falsity  of  his  position  in  the 
original  case.  As  he  was  slowly  led  up-stairs  to  his  room  and  his  tear- 
ful wife  and  silent  sister-in-law  bathed  and  cleansed  his  wound,  he  saw 
with  frightful  clearness  how  the  crush  of  circumstances  was  now  upon 
him  and  his  good  name.  Great  heaven  !  how  those  words  of  Hayne's 
five  years  before  rang,  throbbed,  burned,  beat  like  trip-hammers  through 
his  whirling  brain  !  It  seemed  as  though  they  followed  him  and  his 
fortunes  like  a  curse.  He  sat  silent,  stunned,  awe-stricken  at  the  force 
of  the  calamity  that  had  befallen  him.  How  could  lie  ever  induce  an 
officer  and  a  gentleman  to  believe  that  he  was  no  instigator  in  this 
matter? — that  it  was  all  Buxton's  doing,  Buxton's  low  imagination 
that  had  conceived  the  possibility  of  such  a  crime  on  the  part  of  Mr. 
Hayne,  and  Buxton's  blundering,  bull-headed  abuse  of  authority  that 
had  capped  the  fatal  climax?  It  was  some  time  before  his  wife  could 
get  him  to  speak  at  all.  She  was  hysterically  bemoaning  the  fate  that 
had  brought  them  into  contact  with  such  people,  and  from  time  to  time 
giving  vent  to  the  comforting  assertion  that  never  had  there  been  a 
cloud  on  their  domestic  or  regimental  sky  until  that  wretch  had  been 
assigned  to  the  Riflers.  She  knew  from  the  hurried  and  guarded  ex- 
planations of  Dr.  Grimes  and  one  or  two  young  officers  who  helped 
Rayner  home  that  the  fracas  had  occurred  at  Mr.  Hayne's, — that  there 
had  been  a  mistake  for  which  her  husband  was  not  responsible,  but  that 
Captain  Buxton  was  entirely  to  blame.  But  her  husband's  ashen  face 
told  her  a  story  of  something  far  deeper  :  she  knew  that  now  he  was 
involved  in  fearful  trouble,  and,  whatever  may  have  been  her  inner- 
most thoughts,  it  was  the  first  and  irresistible  impulse  to  throw  all  the 
blame  upon  her  scapegoat.  Miss  Travers,  almost  as  pale  and  quite  as 
silent  as  the  captain,  was  busying  herself  in  helping  her  sister ;  but  she 
could  with  difficulty  restrain  her  longing  to  bid  her  be  silent.  She,  too, 
had  endeavored  to  learn  from  her  escort  on  their  hurried  homeward 
rush  across  the  parade  what  the  nature  of  the  disturbance  had  been. 
She,  too,  had  suggested  Clancy,  but  the  officer  by  her  side  set  his  teeth 
as  he  replied  that  he  wished  it  had  been  Clancy.  She  had  heard,  too, 
the  message  brought  by  a  cavalry  trumpeter  from  Mr.  Blake :  he 
wanted  Captain  Ray  to  come  to  Mr.  Hayne's  as  soon  as  he  had  seen 
Mrs.  Ray  safely  home,  and  would  he  please  ask  Mrs.  Stannard  to  come 
with  him  at  the  same  time  ?  Why  should  Mr.  Blake  want  Mrs.  Stan- 
nard at  Mr.  Hayne's  ?  She  saw  Mr.  Foster  run  up  and  speak  a  few 
words  to  Mrs.  Waldron,  and  heard  that  lady  reply,  "  Certainly.  I  will 
go  with  you  now."  Whf\t  could  it  mean  ?  At  last,  as  she  was  return- 
ing to  her  sister's  room  after  a  moment's  absence,  she  heard  a  question 
at  which  her  heart  stood  still.  It  was  Mrs.  Rayner  who  asked, — 
"  But  the  creature  was  there,  was  she  not  ?" 
The  answer  sounded  more  like  a  moan  of  anguish  : 

"  The  creature  was  his  sister.     It  was  her  husband  who " 

But,  as  Captain  Rayner  buried  his  battered  face  in  his  hands  at  this 
juncture,  the  rest  of  the  sentence  was  inaudible.     Miss  Travers  had 


796  ^'^^  DESERTER. 

heard  quite  enough,  however.  She  stood  there  one  moment,  appalled, 
dropped  uj)on  the  floor  the  bandage  she  had  been  making,  turned  and 
sought  her  room,  and  was  seen  no  more  that  night. 

Over  the  day  or  two  that  followed  this  affair  the  veil  of  silence 
may  best  be  drawn,  in  order  to  give  time  for  the  sediment  of  truth 
to  settle  through  the  w'hirlpool  of  stories  in  violent  circulation.  The 
colonel  came  back  on  the  first  train  after  the  adjournment  of  the  court, 
and  could  hardly  wait  for  that  formality.  Contrary  to  his  custom  of 
"  sleeping  on"  a  question,  he  was  in  his  office  within  half  an  hour 
after  his  return  to  the  post,  and  from  that  time  until  near  tattoo  was 
busily  occupied  taking  the  statements  of  the  active  participants  in  the 
affair.  This  was  three  days  afler  its  occurrence ;  and  Captain  Rayner, 
though  up  and  able  to  be  about,  had  not  left  his  quarters.  Mrs.  Ray- 
ner had  abandoned  her  trip  to  the  East,  for  the  present  at  least.  Mr. 
Hayne  still  lay  weak  and  prostrate  in  his  darkened  room,  attended 
hourly  by  Dr.  Pease,  who  feared  brain-fever,  and  nursed  assiduously 
by  Mrs.  Hurley,  for  whom  Mrs.  Waldron,  Mrs.  Stannard,  and  many 
other  ladies  in  the  garrison  could  not  do  enough  to  content  themselves. 
Mr.  Hurley's  wrist  was  badly  sprained  and  in  a  sling ;  but  the  colonel 
went  purposely  to  call  upon  him  and  to  shake  his  other  hand,  and  he 
begged  to  be  permitted  to  see  Mrs.  Hurley,  who  came  in  pale  and  sofl- 
eyed  and  with  a  gentle  demeanor  that  touched  the  colonel  more  thian 
he  could  tell.  Her  cheek  flushed  for  a  moment  as  he  bent  low  over 
her  hand  and  told  her  how  bitterly  he  regretted  that  his  absence  from 
the  post  had  resulted  in  so  grievous  an  experience :  it  was  not  the 
welcome  he  and  his  regiment  would  have  given  her  had  they  known  of 
her  intended  visit.  To  Mr.  Hurley  he  briefly  said  that  he  need  not 
fear  but  that  full  justice  would  be  meted  out  to  the  instigator  or  in- 
stigators of  the  assault ;  but,  as  a  something  to  make  partial  amends 
for  their  suffering,  he  said  that  nothing  now  could  check  the  turn  of 
the  tide  in  their  brother's  favor.  All  the  cavalry  officers  except  Bux- 
ton, all  the  infantry  officers  except  Rayner,  had  already  been  to  call 
upon  him  since  the  night  of  the  occurrence,  and  had  striven  to  show 
how  distressed  they  were  over  the  outrageous  blunders  of  their  tem- 
porary commander.  Buxton  had  written  a  note  expressive  of  a  desire 
to  see  him  and  "  explain,"  but  w^as  informed  that  explanations  from 
him  simply  aggravated  the  injury ;  and  Rayner,  crushed  and  humili- 
ated, was  fairly  in  hiding  in  his  room,  too  sick  at  heart  to  want  to 
see  anybody,  and  waiting  for  the  action  of  the  authorities  in  the  con- 
fident expectation  that  nothing  less  than  court-martial  and  disgrace 
would  be  his  share  of  the  outcome.  He  would  gladly  have  resigned 
and  gone  at  once,  but  that  would  have  been  resigning  under  virtual 
charges  :  he  had  to  stay,  and  his  wife  had  to  stay  with  him,  and  Nellie 
with  her.  By  this  time  Nellie  Travers  did  not  want  to  go.  She  had 
but  one  thought  now, — to  make  amends  to  Mr.  Hayne  for  the  wrong  her 
thoughts  had  done  him.  It  was  time  for  Mr.  Van  Antwerp  to  come 
to  the  wide  West  and  look  after  his  interests ;  but  Mrs.  Rayner  had 
ceased  to  urge,  while  he  continued  to  implore  her  to  bring  Nellie  East 
at  once.  Almost  any  man  as  rich  and  independent  as  Steven  Van 
Antwerp  would  have  gone  to  the  scene  and  settled  matters  for  himself. 


THE  DESERTER.  797 

Singularly  enough,  this  one  solution  of  the  problem  seemed  never  to 
occur  to  him  as  feasible. 

Meantime,  the  colonel  had  patiently  unravelled  the  threads  and  had 
brought  to  light  the  whole  truth  and  nothing  but  the  truth.  It  made 
a  singularly  simple  story,  after  all ;  but  that  was  so  much  the  worse  for 
Buxton.  The  only  near  relation  Mr.  Hayne  had  in  the  world  was  this 
one  younger  sister,  who  six  years  before  had  married  a  manly,  ener- 
getic fellow,  a  civil  engineer  in  the  employ  of  an  Eastern  railway. 
Daring  Hayne's  "  mountain-station"  exile  Hurley  had  brought  his  wife 
to  Denver,  where  far  better  prospects  awaited  him.  He  won  promotion 
in  his  profession,  and  was  now  one  of  the  principal  engineers  employed 
by  a  road  running  new  lines  through  the  Colorado  Rockies.  Journey- 
ing to  Salt  Lake,  he  came  around  by  way  of  Warrener,  so  that  his 
wife  and  he  might  have  a  look  at  the  brother  she  had  not  seen  in  years. 
Their  train  was  due  there  early  in  the  afternoon,  but  was  blocked  by 
drifts  and  did  not  reach  the  station  until  late  at  night.  There  they 
found  a  note  from  him  becro-ino;  them  to  take  a  carriao;e  thev  would  find 
waiting  for  them  and  come  right  out  and  spend  the  night  at  his  quarters  : 
he  would  send  them  back  in  abundant  time  to  catch  the  westward  train 
in  the  morning.  He  could  not  come  in,  because  that  involved  the 
necessity  of  asking  his  captain's  permission,  and  they  knew  his  relations 
with  that  captain.  It  was  her  shadow  Buxton  had  seen  on  the  window- 
screen  ;  and  as  none  of  Buxton's  acquaintances  had  ever  mentioned  that 
Hayne  had  any  relations,  and  as  Hayne,  in  fact,  had  had  no  one  for 
years  to  talk  to  about  his  personal  affairs,  nobody  but  himself  and  the 
telegraph-operator  at  the  post  really  knew  of  their  sudden  visit.  Bux- 
ton, being  an  unmitigated  cad,  had  put  the  worst  interpretation  on  his 
discovery,  and,  in  his  eagerness  to  clinch  the  evidence  of  conduct  unbe- 
coming an  officer  and  a  gentleman  upon  Mr.  Hayne,  had  taken  no  wise 
head  into  his  confidence.  Never  dreaming  that  the  shadow  could  be  that 
of  a  blood-relation,  never  doubting  that  a  fair,  frail  companion  from  the 
frontier  town  was  the  explanation  of  Mr.  Hayne's  preference  for  that 
out-of-the  way  house  and  late  hours,  he  stated  his  discovery  to  Rayner 
as  a  positive  fact,  going  so  far  as  to  say  that  his  sentries  had  recognized 
her  as  she  drove  away  in  the  carriage.  If  he  had  not  been  an  ass  as 
well  as  a  cad,  he  would  have  interviewed  the  driver  of  the  carriage ; 
but  he  had  jumped  at  his  theory,  and  his  sudden  elevation  to  the  com- 
mand of  the  post  gave  him  opportunity  to  carry  out  his  virtuous  de- 
termination that  no  such  goings-on  should  disgrace  his  administration. 
He  gave  instructions  to  certain  soldier  clerks  and  "  daily-duty"  men 
employed  in  the  quartermaster,  commissary,  and  ordnance  offices  along 
Prairie  Avenue  to  keep  their  eyes  open  and  let  him  know  of  any  visi- 
tors coming  out  to  Hayne's  by  night,  and  ira  lady  came  in  a  carriage  he 
was  to  be  called  at  once.  Mr.  Hurley  promised  that  on  their  return 
from  Salt  Lake  they  would  come  back  by  way  of  Warrener  and  spend 
two  days  with  Hayne,  since  only  an  hour  or  two  had  they  enjoyed  of  his 
company  on  their  way  West ;  and  the  very  day  that  the  officers  went  off 
to  the  court  came  the  telegram  saying  the  Hurleys  would  arrive  that 
evening.  Hayne  had  already  talked  over  their  prospective  visit  with 
Major  Waldron,  and  the  latter  had  told  his  wife ;  but  all  intercourse 


798  THE  DESERTER. 

of  a  friendly  character  was  at  an  end  between  them  and  the  Eayners 
and  Buxtons ;  there  were  no  more  gossipy  chats  among  the  ladies.  In- 
deed, it  so  happened  that  only  to  one  or  two  people  had  Mrs.  Waldron 
had  time  to  mention  that  Mr.  Hayne's  sister  was  coming,  and  neither 
the  Rayners  nor  Buxtons  had  heard  of  it ;  neither  had  Nellie  Travers, 
for  it  was  after  the  evening  of  her  last  visit  that  Mrs.  Waldron  was  told. 
Hayne  ran  with  his  telegram  to  the  major,  and  the  latter  had  in- 
troduced himself  and  Major  Stannard  to  Mrs.  Hurley  when,  after  a 
weary  wait  of  some  hours,  the  train  arrived.  Blake,  too,  was  there,  on 
the  lookout  for  some  friends,  and  he  was  presented  to  Mrs.  Hurley  while 
her  husband  was  attending  to  some  matters  about  the  baggage.  The 
train  went  on  eastward,  carrying  the  field-officers  with  it.  Blake  had 
to  go  with  his  friends  back  to  the  post,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hurley,  after 
the  former  had  attended  to  some  business  and  seen  some  railway  asso- 
ciates of  his  at  the  hotel,  took  the  carriage  they  had  had  before  and 
drove  out  to  the  garrison,  where'Private  Schweinkoi)f  saw  the  lady  rap- 
turously welcomed  by  Lieutenant  Hayne  and  escorted  into  the  house, 
while  Mr.  Hurley  remained  settling  with  the  driver  out  in  the  darkness. 
It  was  not  long  before  the  commanding  officer  pro  tern,  was  called  from 
the  hop-room,  where  the  dance  was  going  on  delightfully,  and  notified 
that  the  mysterious  visitor  had  again  appeared,  with  evident  intention 
of  spending  the  night,  as  the  carriage  had  returned  to  town.  "  Why, 
certainly,"  reasoned  Buxton.  "  It's  the  very  night  he  would  choose, 
since  everybody  will  be  at  the  hop  :  no  one  will  be  apt  to  interfere,  and 
everybody  will  be  unusually  drowsy  and  less  inclined  to  take  notice  in 
the  morning."  Here  was  ample  opportunity  for  a  brilliant  stroke  of 
work.  He  would  first  satisfy  himself  she  was  there,  then  surround 
the  house  with  sentries  so  that  she  could  not  escape,  while  he,  with 
the  officer  of  the  day  and  the  corporal  of  the  guard,  entered  the  house 
and  confronted  him  and  her.  That  would  wind  uj)  Mr.  Hayne's 
career  beyond  question :  nothing  short  of  dismissal  could  result. 
Over  he  went,  full  of  his  project,  listened  at  Hayne's  like  the  eaves- 
dropping sneak  he  was,  saw  again  the  shadow  of  the  graceful  form 
and  heai'd  the  silvery,  happy  laugh,  and  then  it  was  he  sent  for  Ray- 
ner.  It  was  near  midnight  when  he  led  his  forces  to  the  attack.  A 
light  was  now  burning  in  the  second  story,  which  he  thought  must  be 
Sam's ;  but  the  lights  had  been  turned  low  in  the  parlor,  and  the 
occupants  had  disappeared  from  sight  and  hearing.  By  inquiry  he 
had  ascertained  that  Hayne's  bedroom  was  just  back  of  the  parlor. 
A  man  was  stationed  at  the  back  door,  others  at  the  sides,  with  orders 
to  arrest  any  one  who  attempted  to  escape  ;  then  softly  he  stepped  to  the 
front  door,  telling  Rayner  to  follow  him,  and  the  corporal  of  the  guard 
to  follow  both.  To  his  surprise,  the  door  was  unlocked,  and  a  light 
was  burning  in  the  hall.  Never  knocking,  he  stepped  in,  marched 
through  the  hall  into  the  parlor,  which  was  empty,  and,  signalling 
"  Come  on"  to  his  followers,  crossed  the  parlor  and  seized  the  knob 
of  the  bedroom  door.  It  was  locked.  Rayner,  looking  white  and  wor- 
ried, stood  just  behind  him,  and  the  corporal  but  a  step  farther  back. 
Before  Buxton  could  knock  and  demand  admission,  which  was  his 
intention,  quick  footsteps  came  flying  down  the  stairs  from  the  second 


THE  DESERTER.  799 

story,  and  the  trio  wheeled  about  in  surprise,  to  find  ISIr.  Hayne,  dressed 
in  his  fatigue  uniform,  standing  at  the  threshold  and  staring  at  them 
with  mingled  astonishment,  incredulity,  and  indignation.  A  sudden 
light  seemed  to  dawn  upon  him  as  he  glanced  from  one  to  the  other. 
AYith  a  leap  like  a  cat  he  threw  himself  upon  Buxton,  hurled  him 
back,  and  stood  at  the  closed  door  confronting  them  with  blazing  eyes 
and  clinching  fists. 

"  Open  that  door,  sir  !"  cried  Buxton.  "  You  have  a  woman  hid- 
den there.     Open,  or  stand  aside." 

"  You  hounds  !  I'll  kill  the  first  man  who  dares  enter  !"  was  the 
furious  answer ;  and  Hayne  had  snatched  from  the  wall  his  long  in- 
fantry sword  and  flashed  the  blade  in  the  lamplight.  Rayner  made 
a  step  forward,  half  irresolute.  Hayne  leaped  at  him  like  a  tiger. 
"  Fire  !  Quick  !"  shouted  Buxton,  in  wild  excitement.  Bang  !  went 
the  carbine,  and  the  bullet  crashed  through  the  plaster  overhead,  and, 
seeing  the  gleaming  steel  at  his  superior's  throat,  the  corporal  had  sent 
the  heavy  butt  crashing  upon  the  lieutenant's  skull  only  just  in  time : 
there  would  have  been  murder  in  another  second.  The  next  instant  he 
was  standing  on  his  own  head  in  the  corner,  seeing  a  multitude  of 
twinkling,  whirling  stars,  from  the  midst  of  which  Captain  Rayner 
was  reeling  backward  over  a  chair  and  a  number  of  soldiers  were  rush- 
ing upon  a  powerful  picture  of  furious  manhood, — a  stranger  in  shirt- 
sleeves, who  had  leaped  from  the  bedroom. 

Told  as  it  was — as  it  had  to  be — all  over  the  department,  there 
seemed  but  one  thing  to  say,  and  that  referred  to  Buxton  :  "  Well ! 
isnH  he  a  phenomenal  ass  ?" 

XVI. 

Mr.  Hayne  was  up  and  around  again.  The  springtime  was  coming, 
and  the  praii'ie  roads  were  good  and  dry,  and  the  doctor  had  told  him 
he  must  live  in  the  open  air  awhile  and  ride  and  walk  and  drive.  He 
stood  in  no  want  of  "  mounts,"  for  three  or  four  of  his  cavalry  friends 
were  ready  to  lend  him  a  saddle-horse  any  day.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hurley, 
after  making  many  pleasant  acquaintances,  had  gone  on  to  Denver,  and 
Captain  Buxton  was  congratulating  himself  that  he,  at  least,  had  not 
run  foul  of  the  engineer's  powerful  fists.  Buxton  Avas  not  in  arrest, 
for  the  case  had  proved  a  singular  "  poser."  It  occurred  during  the 
temporary  absence  of  the  colonel :  he  could  not  well  place  the  captain 
under  arrest  for  things  he  had  done  when  acting  as  post  commander. 
In  obedience  to  his  orders  from  department  head-quarters,  he  made  his 
report  of  the  aifair,  and  indicated  that  Captain  Buxton's  conduct  had 
been  inexcusable.  Rayner  had  done  nothing  but,  as  was  proved,  re- 
luctantly obey  the  captain's  orders,  so  he  could  not  be  tried.  Hayne, 
who  had  committed  one  of  the  most  serious  crimes  in  the  military  cata- 
logue,— that  of  drawing  and  raising  a  weapon  against  an  officer  who 
was  in  discharge  of  his  duty  (Rayner), — had  the  sympathy  of  the  whole 
command,  and  nobody  would  prefer  charges  against  him.  The  general 
decided  to  have  the  report  go  up  to  division  head-quarters,  and  thence 
it  went  with  its  varied  comments  and  endorsements  to  Washington  ; 


800  "^HE  DESERTER. 

and  now  a  court  of  inquiry  was  talked  of.  Meantime,  poor  bewildered 
Buxton  was  let  severely  alone.  What  made  him  utterly  miserable  was 
the  fact  that  in  his  own  regiment,  the  — th,  nobody  spoke  of  it  except 
as  something  that  everybody  knew  was  sure  to  happen  the  moment  he 
got  in  command.  If  it  hadn't  been  that  'twould  have  been  something 
else.  The  only  certainty  was  that  Buxton  would  never  lose  a  chance 
of  making  an  ass  of  himself.  Instead  of  being  furious  with  him,  the 
whole  regiment — officers  and  men — simply  ridiculed  and  laughed  at 
him.  He  had  talked  of  preferring  charges  against  Blake  for  insubordi- 
nation, and  asked  the  adjutant  what  he  thought  of  it.  It  was  the  first 
time  he  had  spoken  to  the  adjutant  for  weeks,  and  the  adjutant  rushed 
out  of  the  office  to  tell  the  crowd  to  come  in  and  "  hear  Buxton's  latest." 
It  began  to  look  as  though  nothing  serious  would  ever  come  of  the 
affair,  until  Rayner  reappeared  and  people  saw  how  very  ill  he  was.  Dr. 
Pease  had  been  consulted ;  and  it  was  settled  that  he  as  well  as  his  wife 
must  go  away  for  several  months  and  have  complete  rest  and  change. 
It  was  decided  that  they  would  leave  by  the  1st  of  May.  All  this  Mr. 
Hayne  heard  through  his  kind  friend  Mrs.  Waldron. 

One  day  when  he  first  began  to  sit  up,  and  before  he  had  been  out 
at  all,  she  came  and  sat  with  him  in  his  sunshiny  parlor.  There  had 
been  a  silence  for  a  moment  as  she  looked  around  upon  the  few  pictures 
and  upon  that  bareness  and  coldness  which,  do  what  he  will,  no  man 
can  eradicate  from  his  abiding-place  until  he  calls  in  the  deft  and  dainty 
hand  of  woman. 

"  I  shall  be  so  glad  when  you  have  a  wife,  Mr.  Hayne  !"  was  her 
quiet  comment. 

"  So  shall  I,  Mrs.  Waldron,"  was  the  response. 

"And  isn't  it  high  time  we  were  beginning  to  hear  of  a  choice? 
Forgive  my  intrusiveness,  but  that  was  the  very  matter  of  which  the 
major  and  I  were  talking  as  he  brought  me  over." 

"  There  is  something  to  be  done  first,  Mrs.  Waldron,"  he  answered. 
"  I  cannot  offer  any  woman  a  clouded  name.  It  is  not  enough  that 
people  should  begin  to  believe  that  I  was  innocent  and  my  persecutors 
utterly  in  error,  if  not  perjured.  I  must  be  able  to  show  who  was  the 
real  culprit,  and  that  is  not  easy.  The  doctor  and  I  thought  we  saw  a 
way  not  long  ago  ;  but  it  proved  delusive."  And  he  sighed  deeply.  "  I 
had  expected  to  see  the  major  about  it  the  very  day  he  got  back  from 
the  court ;  but  we  have  had  no  chance  to  talk." 

"  Mr.  Hayne,"  she  said,  impulsively,  "  a  woman's  intuition  is  not 
always  at  fault.  Tell  me  if  you  believe  that  any  one  on  the  post  has 
any  inkling  of  the  truth.     I  have  a  reason  for  asking," 

"  I  did  think  it  possible,  Mrs.  Waldron.  I  cannot  be  certain  now; 
and  it's  too  late,  anyway." 

"  How,  too  late  ?     What's  too  late  ?" 

He  paused  a  moment,  a  deeper  shadow  than  usual  on  his  face ;  then 
he  lifted  his  head  and  looked  fairly  at  her : 

"  I  should  not  have  said  that,  Mrs.  Waldron.  It  can  never  be  too 
late.  But  what  I  mean  is  that — just  now  I  spoke  of  offering  no  woman 
a  clouded  name.  Even  if  it  were  unclouded,  I  could  not  offer  it  where 
I  would." 


THE  DESERTER.  gOl 

"  Because  you  have  heard  of  the  engagement  ?"  was  the  quick,  eager 
question.  There  was  no  instant  of  doubt  in  the  woman  as  to  where  the 
offering  would  be  made,  if  it  only  could. 

"  I  knew  of  the  engagement  only  a  day  ago,"  he  answered,  with 
stern  effort  at  self-control.  "  Blake  was  speaking  of  her,  and  it  came 
out  all  of  a  sudden." 

He  turned  his  head  away  again.  It  was  more  than  Mrs.  "Waldron 
could  stand.  She  leaned  impetuously  towards  him,  and  put  her  hand 
on  his  : 

"  Mr.  Hayne,  that  is  no  engagement  of  heart  to  heart.  It  is  entirely 
a  thing  of  Mrs.  Rayner's  doing  ;  and  I  hiow  it.  She  is  poor, — depend- 
ent,— and  has  been  simply  sold  into  bondage." 

"  And  you  think  she  cares  nothing  for  the  position,  the  wealtli  and 
social  advantages,  this  would  give  her?    Ah,  Mrs.  Waldron,  consider." 

"  I  have  considered.  ]\Ir.  Hayne,  if  I  were  a  man,  like  you,  that 
child  should  never  go  back  to  him.  And  they  are  going  next  week. 
You  must  get  well." 

It  was  remarked  that  Mr.  Hayne  was  out  surprisingly  quick  for 
a  fellow  who  had  been  so  recently  threatened  with  brain-fever.  The 
Rayners  were  to  go  East  at  once,  so  it  was  said,  thougli  the  captain's 
leave  of  absence  had  not  yet  been  ordered.  The  colonel  could  grant 
him  seven  days  at  any  time,  and  he  liad  telegraphic  notification  that 
there  would  be  no  objection  when  the  formal  application  reached  the 
War  Department.  Rayner  called  at  the  colonel's  office  and  asked  that 
he  might  be  permitted  to  start  witli  his  wife  and  sister.  His  second 
lieutenant  would  move  in  and  occupy  his  quarters  and  take  care  of  all 
his  personal  effects  during  their  absence  ;  and  Lieutenant  Hayne  was  a 
most  thorough  officer,  and  he  felt  that  in  turning  over  his  company  to 
him  he  left  it  in  excellent  hands.  The  colonel  saw  the  misery  in  the 
captain's  face,  and  he  was  touched  by  both  looks  and  words  : 

"  You  must  not  take  this  last  affair  too  much  to  heart,  Captain 
Rayner,  We  in  the  — th  have  known  Captain  Buxton  so  many  years 
that  with  us  there  is  no  question  as  to  where  all  the  blame  lies.  It 
seems,  too,  to  be  clearly  understood  by  Mr.  Hayne.  As  for  your 
previous  ideas  of  that  officer,  I  consider  it  too  delicate  a  matter  to 
speak  of.  You  must  see,  however,  how  entirely  beyond  reproach  his 
general  character  appears  to  have  been.  But  here's  another  matter : 
Clancy's  discharge  has  arrived.  Does  the  old  fellow  know  you  had 
requested  it  ?" 

"No,  sir,"  answered  Rayner,  with  hesitation  and  embarrassment. 
"  We  wanted  to  keep  him  stz'aight,  as  I  told  you  we  would,  and  he 
would  probably  get  on  a  big  tear  if  he  knew  his  service-days  were 
numbered.  I  didn't  look  for  its  being  granted  for  forty-eight  hours 
yet." 

"  Well,  he  will  know  it  before  night ;  and  no  doubt  he  will  be 
badly  cut  up.  Clancy  was  a  fine  soldier  before  he  married  that  har- 
ridan of  a  woman." 

"  She  has  made  him  a  good  wife  since  they  came  into  the  Riflers, 
colonel,  and  has  taken  mighty  good  care  of  the  old  fellow." 

"  It  is  more  than  she  did  in  the  — th,  sir.     She  was  a  handsome, 


gQ2  THE  DESERTER. 

showy  woman  when  I  first  saw  her, — before  my  promotion  to  the  regi- 
ment,— and  Clancy  was  one  of  the  finest  soldiers  in  the  brigade  the  last 
year  of  the  war.  She  ran  through  all  his  money,  though,  and  in  the 
— th  we  looked  upon  her  as  the  real  cause  of  his  break-down, — especially 
after  her  affair  with  that  sergeant  who  deserted.  You've  heard  of  him, 
probably.  He  disappeared  afler  the  Battle  Butte  campaign,  and  we 
hoped  he'd  run  off  with  Mrs.  Clancy ;  but  he  hadn't.  She  was  there 
when  we  got  back,  big  as  ever,  and  growing  ugly." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  Mrs.  Clancy  had  a  lover  when  she  was  in  the 
— th?" 

"  Certainly,  Captain  Rayner.  We  supposed  it  was  commonly  known. 
He  was  a  fine-looking,  black-eyed,  dark-haired,  dashing  fellow,  of  good 
education,  a  great  swell  among  the  men  the  short  time  he  was  with  us, 
and  INIrs.  Clancy  made  a  dead  set  at  him  from  the  start.  He  never 
seemed  to  care  for  her  very  much." 

"  This  is  something  I  never  heard  of,"  said  Rayner,  with  grave  face, 
"  and  it  will  be  a  good  deal  of  a  shock  to  my  wife,  for  she  had  arranged 
to  take  her  East  with  Clancy  and  Kate,  and  they  were  to  invest  their 
money  in  some  little  business  at  her  old  home." 

"  Yes  :  it  was  mainly  on  the  woman's  account  we  wouldn't  re-enlist 
Clancy  in  the  — th.  We  could  stand  him,  but  she  was  too  much  for  us, 
— and  for  the  other  sergeant,  too.  He  avoided  her  before  we  started  on 
the  campaign,  I  fancy.  Odd  !  I  can't  think  of  his  name. — Billings, 
what  was  the  name  of  that  howling  swell  of  a  sergeant  who  was  in 
Hull's  troop  at  Battle  Butte, — time  Hull  was  killed?  I  mean  the  man 
that  Mrs.  Clancy  was  said  to  have  eloped  with." 

"Sergeant  Gower,  sir,"  said  the  adjutant,  without  looking  up  from 
his  work.  He  did  look  up,  however,  Mdien  a  moment  after  the  captain 
hurriedly  left  the  office,  and  he  saw  that  Rayner's  face  was  deathly 
white  :  it  was  ghastly. 

"  What  took  Rayner  off  so  suddenly  ?"  said  the  colonel,  wheeling 
around  in  his  chair. 

"  I  don't  know,  sir,  unless  there  was  something  to  startle  him  in 
the  name." 

"Why  should  there  be?" 

"  There  are  those  who  think  that  Gower  got  away  with  more  than 
his  horse  and  arms,  colonel :  he  was  not  at  Battle  Butte,  though,  and 
that  is  what  made  it  a  mvstery." 

"  Where  was  he  then  ?" 

"  Back  with  the  wagon- train,  sir  ;  and  he  never  got  in  sight  of  the 
Buttes  or  Rayner's  battalion.  You  know  Rayner  had  four  companies 
there." 

"  I  don't  see  how  Gower  could  have  taken  the  money,  if  that's 
what  you  mean,  if  he  never  came  up  to  the  Buttes :  Rayner  swore  it 
was  there  in  Hull's  original  package.  Then,  too,  how  could  Gower's 
name  affect  him  if  he  had  never  seen  him  ?" 

"  Possibly  he  has  heard  something.     Clancy  has  been  talking." 

"  I  have  looked  into  that,"  said  the  colonel.  "  Clancy  denies  know- 
ing anything, — says  he  was  drunk  and  didn't  know  what  he  was  talk- 
ing about." 


THE  DESERTER.  393 

All  the  same  it  was  queer,  thought  the  adjutant,  and  he  greatly- 
wanted  to  see  the  doctor  and  talk  with  him ;  but  by  the  time  his  office- 
work  was  done  the  doctor  had  gone  to  town,  and  when  he  came  back 
he  was  sent  for  to  the  laundress's  quarters,  where  Mrs.  Clancy  was  in 
hysterics  and  Michael  had  again  been  very  bad. 

Soon  after  the  captain's  return  to  his  quarters,  it  seems,  a  messenger 
was  sent  from  jNIrs.  Rayner  requesting  Mrs.  Clancy  to  come  and  see 
her  at  once.  She  was  ushered  up-stairs  to  madame's  own  apartment, 
mucli  to  Miss  Travers's  surprise,  and  that  young  lady  was  further  as- 
tonished, when  Mrs.  Clancy  reappeared,  nearly  an  hour  later,  to  see 
that  she  had  been  weeping  violently.  The  house  was  in  some  disorder, 
most  of  the  trunks  being  packed  and  in  readiness  for  the  start,  and 
Miss  Travers  was  entertaining  two  or  three  young  officers  and  waiting 
for  her  sister  to  come  down  to  luncheon.  "  The  boys"  were  lachrymose 
over  her  prospective  departure, — at  least  they  affected  to  be, — and  were 
variously  sprawled  about  the  parlor  when  Mrs.  Clancy  descended,  and 
the  inflamed  condition  of  her  eyes  and  nose  became  apparent  to  all. 
There  was  much  chaff  and  fun,  therefore,  when  Mrs.  Rayner  finally 
appeared,  over  the  supposed  affliction  of  the  big  Irishwoman  at  the 
prospect  of  parting  with  her  patroness.  Miss  Travers  saw  with  sin- 
gular sensations  that  both  the  captain  and  her  usually  self-reliant  sister 
were  annoyed  and  embarrassed  by  the  topic  and  strove  to  change  it ; 
but  Foster's  propensity  for  mimicry  and  his  ability  to  imitate  Mrs. 
Clancy's  combined  brogue  and  sniffle  proved  too  much  for  their  efforts. 
Kate  was  in  a  royally  bad  temper  by  the  time  the  youngsters  left  the 
house,  and  when  Nellie  would  have  made  some  laughing  allusion  to 
the  fun  the  young  fellows  had  been  having  over  her  morning  caller,  she 
was  suddenly  and  tartly  checked  with — 

"  We've  had  too  much  of  that  already.  Just  understand  now  that 
you  have  no  time  to  waste,  if  your  packing  is  unfinished.  We  start 
to-morrow  afternoon." 

"  Why,  Kate  !  I  had  no  idea  we  were  to  go  for  two  days  yet !  Of 
course  I  can  be  ready  ;  but  why  did  you  not  tell  me  before  ?" 

"  I  did  not  know  it — at  least  it  was  not  decided — until  this  morn- 
ing, after  the  captain  came  back  from  the  office.  There  is  nothing  to 
prevent  our  going,  now  that  he  has  seen  the  colonel." 

"  There  was  not  before,  Kate ;  for  Mr.  Billings  told  me  yesterday 
morning,  and  I  told  you,  that  the  colonel  had  said  you  could  start  at 
once,  and  you  replied  that  the  captain  could  not  be  ready  for  several 
days, — three  at  least." 

"Well,  now  he  is;  and  that  ends  it.  Never  mind  what  changed 
his  mind." 

It  was  unsafe  to  trifle  with  Nellie  Travers,  as  Mrs.  Rayner  might 
have  known.  She  saw  that  something  had  occurred  to  make  the  ca}> 
tain  eager  to  start  at  once ;  and  then  there  was  that  immediate  sending 
for  Mrs.  Clancy,  the  long,  secret  talk  up  in  Kate's  room,  the  evident 
mental  disturbance  of  both  feminines  on  their  respective  reappearances, 
and  the  sudden  announcement  to  her.  While  there  could  be  no  time 
to  make  formal  parting  calls,  there  were  still  some  two  or  three  ladies 
in  the  garrison  whom  she  longed  to  see  before  saying  adieu ;  and  then 


gQ4  THE  DESERTER. 

there  was  Mr.  Hayne,  whom  she  had  wronged  quite  as  bitterly  as  any- 
one else  had  wronged  him.  He  was  out  that  day  for  the  first  time,  and 
she  longed  to  see  him  and  longed  to  fulfil  the  neglected  promise.  Tfiat 
she  must  do  at  the  very  least.  If  she  could  not  see  him,  she  must  write, 
that  he  might  have  the  note  before  they  went  away.  All  these  thoughts 
were  l-ushing  through  her  brain  as  she  busied  herself  about  her  little 
room,  stowing  away  dresses  and  dropping  everything  from  time  to  time 
to  dart  into  her  sister's  room  in  answer  to  some  querulous  call.  Yet 
never  did  she  leave  without  a  quick  glance  from  her  window  up  and 
down  the  row.     For  whom  was  she  looking  ? 

It  was  just  about  dusk  when  she  heard  crying  down-stairs, — a  child, 
and  apparently  in  the  kitchen.  Mrs.  Rayner  was  with  the  baby,  and 
Miss  Travers  started  for  the  stairs,  calling  that  she  would  go  and  see 
what  it  meant.  She  was  down  in  the  hall  before  Mrs.  Rayner's  imper- 
ative and  repeated  calls  brought  her  to  a  full  stop. 

"  What  is  it  ?"  she  inquired. 

"  You  come  back  here  and  hold  baby.  I  know  perfectly  what  it  is. 
It  is  Kate  Clancy ;  and  she  wants  me.     You  can  do  nothing." 

Too  late,  madame !  The  intervening  doors  were  opened,  and  in 
marched  cook,  leading  the  poor  little  Irish  girl,  who  was  sobbing 
piteously.  Mrs.  Rayner  came  down  the  stairs  with  all  speed,  bringing 
her  burly  son  and  heir  in  her  arras.  She  would  have  ordered  Nell  aloft, 
but  what  excuse  could  she  give  ?  and  Miss  Travers  was  already  bending 
over  the  child  and  striving  to  still  her  heart-breaking  cries. 

"  What  is  it  ?     Where's  your  father  ?"  demanded  Mrs.  Rayner. 

"Oh,  ma'am,  I  don't  know.  I  came  here  to  tell  the  captain. 
Shure  he's  discharged,  ma'am,  an'  his  heart's  broke  entirely,  an' 
mother  says  we're  all  to  go  with  the  captain  to-morrow,  an'  he  swears 
he'll  kill  himself  before  he'll  go,  an'  I  can't  find  him,  ma'am.  It's 
almost  dark  now." 

"  Go  back  and  tell  your  mother  I  want  her  instantly.  We'll  find 
your  father.  Go!"  she  repeated,  as  the  child  shrank  and  hesitated. 
"  Here, — the  front  way  !"  And  little  Kate  sped  away  into  the  shadows 
across  the  dim  level  of  the  parade. 

Then  the  sisters  faced  each  other.  There  was  a  fire  in  the  younger's 
eye  that  Mrs.  Rayner  would  have  escaped  if  she  could. 

"  Kate,  it  is  to  get  Clancy  away  from  the  possibility  of  revealing 
what  he  knows  that  you  have  planned  this  sudden  move,  and  I  know 
it,"  said  Miss  Travers.     "  You  need  not  answer." 

She  seized  a  wrap  from  the  hat-rack  and  stepped  to  the  door-way. 
Mrs.  Rayner  threw  herself  after  her. 

"  Nellie,  where  are  vou  going  ?     What  will  you  do  ?" 

"  To  Mrs.  Waldron's,  Kate ;  if  need  be,  to  Mr.  Hayne's." 
*********** 

A  bright  fire  was  burning  in  Major  Waldron's  cosey  parlor,  where 
he  and  his  good  wife  were  seated  in  earnest  talk.  It  was  just  after 
sunset  when  Mr.  Hayne  dropped  in  to  ]iay  his  first  visit  after  the  few 
days  in  which  he  had  been  confined  to  his  quarters.  He  was  looking 
thin,  paler  than  usual,  and  far  more  restless  and  eager  in  manner  than 
of  old.     The  Waldrons  welcomed  him  with  more  than  usual  warmth, 


THE  DESERTER.  805 

and  the  major  speedily  led  the  conversation  up  to  the  topic  which  was 
so  near  to  his  heart. 

"  You  and  I  must  see  the  doctor  and  have  a  triangular  council  over 
this  thing,  Hayne.  Three  heads  are  better  than  none ;  and  if,  as  he 
suspects,  old  Clancy  really  knows  anything  when  he's  drunk  that  he 
cannot  tell  when  he's  sober,  I  shall  depart  from  Mrs.  Waldron's  .prin- 
ciples and  join  the  doctor  in  his  pet  scheme  of  getting  him  drunk  again. 
'In  vino  Veritas,^  you  know.  And  we  ought  to  be  about  it,  too,  for  it 
won't  be  long  before  his  discharge  comes,  and,  once  away,  we  should  be 
in  the  lurch." 

"  There  seems  so  little  hope  there,  major.  Even  the  colonel  has 
called  him  up  and  questioned  him." 

"  Ay,  very  true,  but  always  when  the  old  sergeant  was  sober.  It 
is  when  drunk  that  Clancy's  conscience  pricks  him  to  tell  what  he 
either  knows  or  suspects," 

A  light,  quick  footstep  was  heard  on  the  piazza,  the  hall  door 
opened,  and  without  knock  or  ring,  bursting  impetuously  in  upon  them, 
there  suddenly  appeared  Miss  Travers,  her  eyes  dilated  with  excite- 
ment. At  sight  of  the  group  she  stopped  short,  and  colored  to  the 
very  roots  of  her  shining  hair. 

"  How  glad  I  am  to  see  yon,  Nellie  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Waldron,  as 
all  rose  to  greet  her.  An  embarrassed,  half-distraught  reply  was  her 
only  answer.  She  had  extended  both  hands  to  the  elder  lady ;  bnt 
now,  startled,  almost  stunned,  at  finding  herself  in  the  presence  of  the 
very  man  she  most  wanted  to  see,  »he  stood  with  downcast  eyes,  irreso- 
lute. He,  too,  had  not  stepped  forward, — had  not  oiFered  his  hand. 
She  raised  her  blue  eyes  for  one  quick  glance,  and  saw  his  pale,  pain- 
thinned  face,  read  anew  the  story  of  his  patience,  his  suffering,  his 
heroism,  and  realized  how  she  too  had  wronged  him  and  that  her  very 
awkwardness  and  silence  might  tell  him  that  shameful  fact.  It  was 
more  than  she  could  stand. 

"  I  came — purposely.  I  hoped  to  find  you,  Mr.  Hayne.  You — 
you  remember  that  I  had  something  to  tell  you.  It  was  about  Clancy. 
You  ought  to  see  him,  I'm  sure  you  ought,  for  he  must  know — he  or 
Mrs.  Clancy — something  about  your — your  trouble;  and  I've  just  this 
minute  heard  that  they — that  he's  going  away  to-morrow ;  and  you 
must  find  him  to-night,  Mr.  Hayne :  indeed  you  must." 

Who  can  paint  her  as  she  stood  there,  blushing,  pleading,  eager, 
frightened,  yet  determined  ?  Who  can  picture  the  wild  emotion  in  his 
heart,  reflected  in  his  face  ?  He  stepped  quickly  to  her  side  with  the 
light  leaping  to  his  eyes,  his  hands  extended  as  though  to  grasp  hers ; 
but  it  was  AV^aldron  that  spoke  first : 

"Where  is  he  going? — how?" 

"  Oh,  with  us,  major.  We  go  to-morrow,  and  they  go  with  us. 
My  sister  has  some  reason — I  cannot  fathom  it.  She  wants  them 
away  from  here,  and  Clancy's  discharge  came  to-day.  He  must  see 
him  first,"  she  said,  indicating  Mr.  Hayne  by  the  nod  of  her  pretty 
head,  "  They  say  Clancy  has  run  off  and  got  away  from  his  wife. 
He  doesn't  want  to  be  discharged.  They  cannot  find  him  now ;  but 
perhaps  Mr.  Hayne  can. — Mr.  Hayne,  try  to.     You — you  must." 


806  THE  DESERTER. 

"Indeed  we  raust,  Hayne,  and  quick  about  it,"  said  the  major. 
"  Now  is  our  chance,  I  verily  believe.  Let  us  get  the  doctor  first ; 
then  little  Kate  will  best  know  where  to  look  for  Clancy.  Come,  man, 
get  your  overcoat."     And  he  hastened  to  the  hall. 

Hayne  followed  as  though  in  a  dream,  reached  the  threshold, 
turned,  looked  back,  made  one  quick  step  toward  Miss  Travers  with 
outstretched  hand,  then  checked  himself  as  suddenly.  His  yearning 
eyes  seemed  fastened  on  her  burning  face,  his  lips  quivered  with  the 
intensity  of  his  emotion.  She  raised  her  eyes  and  gave  him  one  quick 
look,  half  entreaty,  half  command ;  he  seemed  ineffectually  struggling 
to  speak, — to  thank  her.  One  moment  of  irresolution,  then,  without 
a  word  of  any  kind,  he  sprang  to  the  door.  She  carried  his  parting 
glance  in  her  heart  of  hearts  all  night  long.  There  was  no  mistaking 
what  it  told. 

XVII. 

The  morning  report  of  the  following  day  showed  some  items  under 
the  head  of  "  Alterations"  that  involved  several  of  the  soldier  characters 
of  this  story.  Ex-Sergeant  Clancy  had  been  dropped  from  the  column 
of  present  "  on  daily  duty"  and  taken  up  on  that  of  absent  without  leave. 
Lieutenant  Hayne  was  also  reported  absent.  Dr.  Pease  and  Lieutenant 
Billings  drove  into  the  garrison  from  town  just  before  the  cavalry 
trumpets  were  sounding  first  call  for  guard-mounting,  and  the  adjutant 
sent  one  of  the  musicians  to  give  his  compliments  to  Mr.  Royce  and  ask 
him  to  mount  the  guard  for  him,  as  he  had  just  returned  and  had  im- 
portant business  with  the  colonel.  The  doctor  and  the  adjutant 
together  went  into  the  colonel's  quarters,  and  for  the  first  time  on 
record  the  commanding  officer  was  not  at  the  desk  in  his  office  when 
the  shoulder-straps  began  to  gather  for  the  matinee. 

Ten  minutes  after  the  usual  time  the  adjutant  darted  in  and  plunged 
with  his  characteristic  impetuosity  into  the  pile  of  passes  and  other  papers 
stacked  up  by  the  sergeant-major  at  his  table.  To  all  questions  as  to 
where  he  had  been  and  what  was  the  matter  with  the  colonel  he  replied, 
with  more  than  usual  asperity  of  manner, — the  asperity  engendered  of 
some  years  of  having  to  answer  the  host  of  questions  propounded  by 
vacant  minds  at  his  own  busiest  hour  of  the  day, — that  the  colonel 
would  tell  them  all  about  it  himself;  he  had  no  time  for  a  word.  The 
evident  manner  of  suppressed  excitement,  however,  was  something  few 
failed  to  note ;  and  every  man  in  the  room  felt  certain  that  when  the 
colonel  came  there  would  be  a  revelation.  It  was  Avith  something  bor- 
dering on  indignation,  therefore,  that  the  assemblage  heard  the  words 
that  intimated  to  them  that  all  might  retire.  The  colonel  had  come  in 
very  quietly,  received  the  report  of  the  officer  of  the  day,  relieved  him, 
and  dismissed  the  new  officer  of  the  day  with  the  brief  formula,  "  Usual 
orders,  sir,"  then  glanced  quickly  around  the  silent  circle  of  grave, 
bearded  or  boyish  faces.  His  eyes  rested  for  an  instant  with  something 
like  shock  and  trouble  upon  one  face,  pale,  haggard,  with  almost  blood- 
less lips,  and  yet  full  of  fierce  determination, — a  face  that  haunted  him 
long  afterwards,  it  was  so  full  of  agony,  of  suspense,  almost  of  pleading, 
— the  face  of  Captain  Rayner. 


THE  DESERTER.  3O7 

Then,  dispensing  with  the  customaiy  talk,  he  quietly  spoke  the 
disappointing  words, — 

"  I  am  somewhat  late  this  morning,  gentlemen,  and  several  matters 
will  occupy  my  attention  :  so  I  will  not  detain  you  further." 

The  crowd  seemed  to  find  their  feet  very  slowly.  There  was  visible 
disinclination  to  go.  Every  man  in  some  inexplicable  way  appeared 
to  know  that  there  was  a  new  mystery  hanging  over  the  garrison,  and 
that  the  colonel  held  the  key.  Every  man  felt  that  Billings  had 
given  him  the  right  to  expect  to  be  told  all  about  it  when  the  colonel 
came.  Some  looked  reproachfully  at  Billings,  as  though  to  remind  him 
of  their  expectations :  Stannard,  his  old  stand-by,  passed  him  with  a 
gruff  "■  Thought  you  said  the  colonel  had  something  to  tell  us,"  and 
went  out  with  an  air  of  injured  and  defrauded  dignity.  Rayner  arose, 
and  seemed  to  be  making  preparations  to  depart  wuth  the  others,  and 
some  of  the  number,  connecting  him  unerringly  with  the  prevailing 
sensation,  appeared  to  hol<l  back  and  wait  for  him  to  precede  them  and 
so  secure  to  themselves  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that,  if  it  was  a 
matter  connected  with  Rayner,  they  "  had  him  along"  and  nothing 
could  take  place  without  their  hearing  it.  These  men  were  very  few, 
however ;  but  Buxton  was  one  of  them.  Rayner's  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  the  colonel  and  searching  for  a  sign,  and  it  came, — a  little  motion 
of  the  hand  and  a  nod  of  the  head  that  signified  "  Stay."  Then,  as 
Buxton  and  one  or  two  of  his  stamp  still  dallied  irresolute,  the  colonel 
turned  somewhat  sharply  to  them :  "  Was  there  any  matter  on  w'hich 
you  wished  to  see  me,  gentlemen  ?"  and,  as  there  was  none,  they  had  to 
go.  Then  Rayner  was  alone  with  the  colonel ;  for  Mr.  Billings  quickly 
arose,  and,  with  a  significant  glance  at  his  commander,  left  the  room 
and  closed  the  door. 

Mrs.  Rayner,  gazing  from  her  parlor  windows,  saw  that  all  the 
officers  had  come  out  except  one, — her  husband, — and  with  a  moan  of 
misery  she  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and  sank  upon  the  sofa. 
With  cheeks  as  white  as  her  sister's,  with  eyes  full  of  trouble  and  per- 
plexity, but  tearless,  Nellie  Travers  stepped  quickly  into  the  room  and 
put  a  trembling  white  hand  upon  the  other's  shoulder : 

"Kate,  it  is  no  time  for  so  bitter  an  estrangement  as  this.  I  have 
done  simply  what  our  soldier  father  would  have  done  had  he  been  here. 
I  am  fully  aware  of  what  it  must  cost  me.  I  knew  when  I  did  it  that 
you  would  never  again  welcome  me  to  your  home.  Once  East  again, 
you  and  I  can  go  our  ways ;  I  won't  burden  you  longer ;  but  is  it  not 
better  that  you  should  tell  me  in  what  way  your  husband  or  you  can 
have  been  injured  by  what  I  have  done?" 

Mrs.  Rayner  impatiently  shook  away  the  hand. 

"  I  don't  want  to  talk  to  you,"  was  the  blunt  answer.  "  You  have 
carried  out  your  threat  and — ruined  us :  that's  all." 

"  Wliat  can  you  mean  ?  Do  you  want  me  to  think  that  because 
Mr.  Hayne's  innocence  may  be  established  your  husband  was  the  guilty 
man  ?  Certainly  your  manner  leads  to  that  inference ;  though  his  does 
not,  by  any  means." 

"  I  don't  want  to  talk,  I  tell  you.  You've  had  your  way, — done 
your  work.     You'll  see  soon  enough  the  hideous  web  of  trouble  you've 


8Q8  THE  DESERTER. 

entangled  about  my  husband.  Don't  you  dare  say — don't  you  dare 
think" — and  now  she  rose  with  sudden  fury — "  that  he  was  the — that 
he  lost  the  money  !     But  that's  what  all  others  will  think." 

"  If  that  were  true,  Kate,  there  would  be  this  diiference  between 
his  trouble  and  Mr.  Hayne's  :  Captain  Rayner  would  have  wife,  wealth, 
and  friends  to  help  him  bear  the  cross  ;  Mr.  Hayne  has  borne  it  five 
long  years  unaided.     I  pray  God  the  truth  has  been  brought  to  light." 

What  fierce  reply  Mrs.  Rayner  might  have  given,  who  knows  ? 
but  at  that  instant  a  quick  step  was  heard  on  the  piazza,  the  door  opened 
suddenly,  and  Captain  Rayner  entered  with  a  rush.  The  pallor  had 
gone ;  a  light  of  eager,  half-incredulous  joy  beamed  from  his  eyes,  he 
threw  his  cap  upon  the  floor,  and  his  wife  had  risen  and  thrown  her 
arms  about  his  neck. 

"  Have  they  found  him  ?"  was  her  breathless  question.  "  What  has 
happened  ?     You  look  so  different." 

"  Found  him  ?     Yes ;  and.he  has  told  everytliing  ?" 

"Told— what?" 

"  Told  that  he  and  Gower  were  the  men.     Tliey  took  it  all." 

"  Clancy  ! — and  Gower!  The  thieves,  do  you  mean?  Is  that — 
is  that  what  he  confessed  ?"  she  asked,  in  wild  wonderment,  in  almost 
stupefied  amaze,  releasing  him  from  her  arms  and  stepping  back,  her 
eyes  searching  his  face. 

"  Nothing  else  in  the  world,  Kate.  I  don't  understand  it  at  all. 
I'm  all  a-tremble  yet.  It  clears  Hayne  utterly.  It  at  least  explains 
how  I  was  mistaken.     But  what — what  could  she  have  meant  ?" 

Mrs.  Rayner  stood  like  one  in  a  dream,  her  eyes  staring,  her  lips 
quivering ;  and  Nellie,  with  throbbing  pulses  and  clasping  hands,  looked 
eagerly  from  husband  to  wife,  as  though  beseeching  some  explanation. 

"  What  did  she  mean  ?  What  did  she  mean  ?  I  say  again,"  asked 
Rayner,  pressing  his  hand  to  his  forehead  and  gazing  fixedly  at  his  wife. 

A  moment  longer  she  stood  there,  as  though  a  light — a  long-hidden 
truth — were  slowly  forcing  itself  upon  her  mind.  Then,  with  impulsive 
movement,  she  hurried  through  the  dining-room,  threw  open  the  kitchen 
door,  and  startled  the  domestics  at  their  late  breakfast. 

"Ryan,"  she  called  to  the  soldier-servant  who  rose  hastily  from  the 
table,  "  go  and  tell  Mrs.  Clancy  I  want  her  instantly.  Do  you  under- 
stand?    Instantly  !"     And  Ryan  seized  his  forage-cap  and  vanished. 

It  was  perhaps  ten  minutes  before  he  returned.  When  he  did  so  it 
was  apparent  that  Mrs.  Rayner  had  been  crying  copiously,  and  that 
Miss  Travers,  too,  was  much  affected.  The  captain  was  pacing  the, 
room  with  nervous  strides  in  mingled  relief  and  agitation.  All  looked 
up  expectant  as  the  soldier  re-entered.  He  had  the  air  of  a  man  who 
knew  he  bore  tidings  of  vivid  and  mysterious  interest,  but  he  curbed 
the  excitement  of  his  manner  until  it  shone  only  through  his  snapping 
eyes,  saluted,  and  reported  with  professional  gravity : 

"  Mrs.  Clancy's  clean  gone,  sir." 

"Gone  where?" 

"Nobody  knows,  sir.  She's  just  lit  out  with  her  trunk  and  best 
clothes  some  time  last  night." 

"  Gone  to  her  husband  in  town,  maybe  ?" 


THE  DESERTER.  809 

"  No,  sir.  Clancy's  all  right :  he  was  caught  last  evening,  and 
hadn't  time  to  get  more'u  half  drunk  before  they  lodged  him.  Loo- 
tenant  Hayne  got  him,  sir.  They  had  him  afore  a  justice  of  the  peace 
early  this  morning " 

"  Yes,  I  know  all  that.  What  I  want  is  Mrs.  Clancy.  What  has 
become  of  her  ?" 

"  Faith,  I  don't  know,  sir,  but  the  women  in  Sudsville  they  all  say 
she's  run  away,  sir, — taken  her  money  and  gone.  She's  afraid  of 
Clancy's  peaching  on  her." 

"By  heavens!  the  thing  is  clearing  itself!"  exclaimed  Rayner  to 
his  gasping  and  wild-eyed  wife.  "  I  must  go  to  the  colonel  at  once 
with  his  news."     And  away  he  went. 

And  then  again,  as  the  (jrderly  retired,  and  the  sisters  were  left 
alone,  Nellie  Travers  with  trembling  iips  asked  the  question, — 

"  Have  I  done  so  much  harm,  after  all,  Kate  ?" 

"  Oh,  Nellie  !  Nellie  !  forgive  me,  for  I  have  been  nearly  mad  with 
misery  !"  was  Mrs.  Rayner's  answer,  as  she  burst  into  a  fresh  paroxysm 
of  tears.     "  That — that  woman  has — has  told  me  fearful  lies." 

There  was  a  strange  scene  that  day  at  Warrener  when,  towards  noon, 
two  carriages  drove  out  from  town  and,  entering  the  east  gate,  rolled 
over  towards  the  guard-house.  The  soldiers  clustered  about  the  barrack 
porches  and  stared  at  the  occupants.  In  the  first — a  livery  hack  from 
town — were  two  sheriiFs  officers,  while  cowering  on  the  back  seat,  his  hat 
pulled  down  over  his  eyes,  was  poor  old  Clancy,  to  whom  clung  faithful 
little  Kate.  In  the  rear  carriage — Major  Waldron's — were  Mr.  Hayne, 
the  major,  and  a  civilian  whom  some  of  the  men  had  no  difficulty  in 
recognizing  as  the  official  charged  with  the  administration  of  justice 
towards  offenders  against  the  peace.  Many  of  the  soldiers  strolled 
slowly  up  the  road,  in  hopes  of  hearing  all  about  the  arrest,  and  what 
it  meant,  from  straggling  members  of  the  guard.  All  knew  it  meant 
something  more  than  a  mere  "  break"  on  the  part  of  Clancy ;  all  felt 
that  it  had  some  connection  with  the  long-continued  mystery  that  hung 
about  the  name  of  Lieutenant  Hayne.  Then,  too,  it  was  being  noised 
abroad  that  Mrs.  Clancy  had  "  skipped"  and  between  two  suns  had  fled 
for  parts  unknown.  8he  could  be  overhauled  by  telegraph  if  she  had 
left  on  either  of  the  night  freights  or  gone  down  towards  Denver  by 
the  early  morning  passenger-train ;  it  would  be  easy  enough  to  capture 
her  if  she  were  "  wanted,"  said  the  garrison ;  but  what  did  it  mean 
that  Clancy  was  pursued  by  officers  of  the  post  and  brought  back 
under  charge  of  officers  of  the  law  ?  He  had  had  trouble  enough,  poor 
fellow  1 

The  officer  of  the  guard  looked  wonderingly  at  the  carriages  and 
their  occupants.  He  saluted  Major  Waldron  as  the  latter  stepped 
briskly  down. 

"  You  will  take  charge  of  Clancy,  Mr.  Graham,"  said  the  major. 
"  His  discharge  will  be  recalled  :  at  least  it  will  not  take  effect  to-day. 
You  will  be  interested  in  knowing  that  his  voluntary  confession  fully 
establishes  Mr.  Hayne's  innocence  of  the  charges  on  which  he  was 
tried." 

Mr.  Graham's  face  turned  all  manner  of  colors.  He  glanced  at 
YoL.  XXXIX.— 53 


810  ^^-^'   DESERTER. 

Hayne,  who,  still  seated  in  the  carriage,  was  as  calmly  indifferent  to 
him  as  ever :  he  was  gazing  across  the  wide  parade  at  the  windows  in 
officers'  row.  Little  Kate's  sobs  as  the  soldiers  were  helping  her 
father  from  the  carriage  suddenly  recalled  his  wandering  thoughts.  He 
sprang  to  the  ground,  stepped  quickly  to  the  child,  and  put  his  arms 
about  her. 

"  Clancy,  tell  her  to  come  with  us.  Mrs.  Waldron  will  take  loving 
care  of  her,  and  she  shall  come  to  see  you  every  day.  The  guard-house 
is  no  place  for  her  to  follow  you.  Tell  her  so,  man,  and  she  will  go 
with  us. — Come,  Katie,  child  !"  And  he  bent  tenderly  over  the  sob- 
bing little  waif. 

"  Thank  ye,  sir.  I  know  ye'U  be  good  to  her.  Go  with  the 
lootenant,  Kate  darlin' ;  go.     Shure  I'll  be  happier  then." 

And,  trembling,  he  bent  and  kissed  her  Avet  cheeks.  She  threw,  her 
arms  around  his  neck  and  clung  to  him  in  an  agony  of  grief.  Gently 
they  strove  to  disengage  her  clasping  arms,  but  she  shrieked  and  strug- 
gled, and  poor  old  Clancy  broke  down.  There  were  sturdy  soldiers 
standing  by  who  turned  their  heads  away  to  hide  the  unbidden  tears, 
and  with  a  quiver  in  his  kind  voice  the  major  interposed  : 

"  Let  her  stay  awhile  :  it  will  be  better  for  both.  Don't  put  him  in 
the  prison-room,  Graham.  Keep  them  by  themselves  for  a  while.  We 
will  come  for  her  by  and  by."  And  then,  before  them  all,  he  held 
forth  his  hand  and  gave  Clancy's  a  cordial  grasp : 

"  Cheer  up,  man.  You've  taken  the  right  step  at  last.  You  are  a 
free  man  to-day,  even  if  you  are  a  prisoner  for  the  time  being.  Better 
this  a  thousand  times  than  what  you  were." 

Hayne,  too,  spoke  a  few  kind  words  in  a  low  tone,  and  gave  the  old 
soldier  his  hand  at  parting.  Then  the  guard  closed  the  door,  and  father 
and  daughter  were  left  alone.  As  the  groups  around  the  guard-house 
began  to  break  up  and  move  away,  and  the  officers,  re-entering  the 
carriages,  drove  over  to  head-quarters,  a  rollicking  Irishman  called  to 
the  sergeant  of  the  guard, — 

"  Does  he  know  the  ould  woman's  skipped,  sargent  ?  Shure  you'd 
better  tell  him.     'Twill  cheer  him,  like." 

But  when,  a  few  moments  after,  the  news  was  imparted  to  Clancy, 
the  eifect  was  electric  and  startling.  With  one  bound  and  a  savage  cry 
he  sprang  to  the  door.  The  sergeant  threw  himself  upon  him  and 
strove  to  hold  him  back,  but  was  no  match  for  the  frenzied  man.  Deaf 
to  Kate's  entreaties  and  the  sergeant's  commands,  he  hurled  him  aside, 
leaped  through  the  door-way,  shot  like  a  deer  past  the  lolling  guards- 
men on  the  porch,  and,  turning  sharply,  went  at  the  top  of  his  speed 
down  the  hill  towards  Sudsville  before  man  could  lay  hand  on  him. 
The  sentry  on  Number  One  cocked  his  rifle  and  looked  inquiringly  at 
the  officer  of  the  guard,  who  came  running  out.  With  a  wild  shriek 
little  Kate  threw  herself  upon  the  sentry,  clasping  his  knees  and  im- 
ploring him  not  to  shoot.  The  lieutenant  and  the  sergeant  both  shouted, 
"  Never  mind  !  Don't  fire  !"  and  with  others  of  the  guard  rushed  in 
pursuit.  But,  old  and  feeble  as  he  was,  poor  Clancy  kept  the  lead, 
never  swerving,  never  flagging,  until  he  reached  the  door-way  of  his 
abandoned  cot ;  this  he  burst  in,  threw  himself  upon  his  knees  by  the 


THE  DESERTER.  811 

bedside,  and  dragged  to  light  a  little  wooden  chest  that  stood  by  an 
open  trap  in  the  floor.  One  look  sufficed  :  the  mere  fact  that  the  trap 
was  open  and  the  box  exposed  was  enough.  With  a  wild  cry  of  rage, 
despair,  and  baffled  hatred,  he  clinched  his  hands  above  his  head,  rose  to 
his  full  height,  and  with  a  curse  upon  his  white  lips,  with  glaring  eyes 
and  gasping  breath,  tiu-ned  upon  his  pursuers  as  they  came  running 
in,  and  hurled  his  fists  at  the  foremost.  "  Let  me  follow  her,  I  say  ! 
She's  gone  with  it  all, — his  money  !  Let  me  go  !"  he  shrieked  ;  and 
then  his  eyes  turned  stony,  a  gasp,  a  clutch  at  his  throat,  and,  plunging 
headlong,  he  fell  upon  his  face  at  their  feet. 

Poor  little  Kate  !     The  old  man  was,  indeed,  free  at  last. 

XVIII. 

There  had  been  a  scene  of  somewhat  dramatic  nature  at  the  colonel's 
office  but  a  short  time  before,  and  one  that  had  fewer  witnesses.  Agi- 
tated, nervous,  and  eventually  astonished  as  Captain  Rayner  had  been 
when  the  colonel  had  revealed  to  him  the  nature  of  Clancy's  confession, 
he  was  far  more  excited  and  tremulous  when  he  returned  a  second  time. 
The  commanding  officer  had  been  sitting  deep  in  thought.  It  was  but 
natural  that  a  man  should  show  great  emotion  on  learning  that  the  evi- 
dence he  had  given,  which  had  condemned  a  brother  officer  to  years  of 
solitary  punishment,  was  now  disproved.  It  was  to  be  expected  that 
Rayner  should  be  tremulous  and  excited.  He  had  been  looking  worse 
and  worse  for  a  long  time  past ;  and  now  that  it  was  established  that 
he  must  have  been  mistaken  in  what  he  thought  he  saw  and  heard  at 
Battle  Butte,  it  was  to  be  expected  that  he  should  show  the  utmost  con- 
sternation and  an  immediate  desire  to  make  amends.  He  hxid  shown 
great  emotion  ;  he  was  white  aud  rigid  as  the  colonel  told  him  Clancy 
had  made  a  full  confession  ;  but  the  expression  on  his  face  when  in- 
formed that  the  man  had  admitted  that  he  and  Sergeant  Gower  were 
the  only  ones  guilty  of  the  crime — that  Clancy  and  Gower  divided  the 
guilt  as  they  had  the  money — was  a  puzzle  to  the  colonel.  Captain 
Rayner  seemed  daft :  it  was  a  look  of  wild  relief,  half  unbelief,  half 
delight,  that  shot  across  his  haggard  features.  It  was  evident  that  he 
had  not  heard  at  all  what  he  expected.  This  was  what  puzzled  the 
colonel.  He  had  been  pondering  over  it  ever  since  the  captain's  hurried 
departure  "  to  tell  his  wife." 

"  We — we  had  expected — made  all  preparations  to  take  this  after- 
noon's train  for  the  East,"  he  stammered.  "  We  are  all  toru  up,  all 
ready  to  start,  and  the  ladies  ought  to  go  ;  but  I  cannot  feel  like  going 
in  the  face  of  this." 

"There  is  no  reason  why  you  should  not  go,  captain.  I  am  told 
Mrs.  Rayner  should  leave  at  once.  If  need  be,  you  can  return  from 
Chicago.  Everything  will  be  attended  to  properly.  Of  course  you 
will  know  what  to  do  towards  Mr.  Hayne.  Indeed,  I  think  it  might 
be  best  for  you  to  go." 

But  Rayner  seemed  hardly  listening ;  and  the  colonel  was  not  a 
man  to  throw  his  words  away. 

"  You  might  see  Mrs.  Rayner  at  once,  and  return  by  and  by,"  he 


812  THE  DESERTER. 

said ;  and  Rayner  gladly  escaped,  and  went  home  with  the  wonderful 
news  he  had  to  tell  his  wife. 

And  now  a  second  time  he  was  back,  and  was  urging  upon  the 
commanding  officer  the  necessity  of  telegraphing  and  capturing  Mrs. 
Clancy.  In  plain  words  he  told  the  colonel  he  believed  that  she  had 
escaped  with  the  greater  part  of  the  money.     The  colonel  smiled : 

"  That  was  attended  to  early  this  morning,  captain.  Hayne  and 
the  major  asked  that  she  be  secured,  and  the  moment  we  found  her 
fled  it  confirmed  their  suspicions,  and  Billings  sent  despatches  in  every 
direction.  She  can't  get  away  !  She  was  his  temptress,  and  I  mean  to 
make  her  share  all  the  punishment." 

"  Colonel,"  exclaimed  Kayner,  while  beads  of  sweat  stood  out  on 
his  forehead,  "  she  is  worse, — a  thousand  times  worse !  The  woman 
is  a  fiend.  She  is  the  devil  in  petticoats — and  ingenuity.  My  God  ! 
sir,  I  have  been  in  torment  for  weeks  past, — my  poor  wife  and  I.  I 
have  been  criminally,  cowardly  weak ;  but  I  did  not  know  what  to  do, 
— where  to  turn, — how  to  take  it, — how  to  meet  it.  Let  me  tell  you." 
And  now  great  tears  were  standing  in  his  eyes  and  beginning  to  trickle 
down  his  cheeks.  He  dashed  them  away.  His  lips  were  quivering, 
and  he  strode  nervously  up  and  down  the  matted  floor.  "  When  you 
refused  to  let  Clancy  re-enlist  in  the  — th,  two  years  after  Battle  Butte, 
he  came  to  me  and  told  me  a  story.  He,  too,  had  declared,  as  I  did, 
that  he  had  seen  the  money-packages  in  Hayne's  hands ;  and  he  said 
the  real  reason  he  was  kicked  out  of  the  — th  was  because  the  officers 
and  men  took  sides  with  Hayne  and  thought  he  had  sworn  his  reputa- 
tion away.  He  begged  me  not  to  ^  go  back  on  him'  as  his  own  regi- 
ment had,  and  I  thought  he  was  being  persecuted  because  he  told  the 
truth.  God  knows  I  fully  believed  Hayne  guilty  for  more  than  three 
years, — it  is  only  within  the  last  year  or  so  I  began  to  have  doubts ; 
and  so  I  took  Clancy  into  B  Company  and  soon  made  Mrs.  Clancy  a 
laundress.  But  she  made  trouble  for  us  all,  and  there  was  something 
uncanny  about  them.  She  kept  throwing  out  mysterious  hints  I  could 
not  understand  when  rumors  of  them  reached  me ;  and  at  last  came 
the  fire  that  burned  them  out,  and  then  the  stories  of  what  Clancy 
had  said  in  his  delirium  ;  and  then  she  came  to  my  wife  and  told  her  a 
yarn  that — she  swore  to  its  truth,  and  nearly  drove  Mrs.  Rayner  wild 
with  anxiety.  She  swore  that  when  Clancy  got  to  drinking  he 
imagined  he  had  seen  me  take  that  money  from  Captain  Hull's  saddle- 
bags and  replace  the  sealed  package  :  she  said  he  was  ready  to  swear 
that  he  and  Gower — the  deserter — and  two  of  our  men,  honorably 
discharged  now  and  living  on  ranches  down  in  Nebraska,  could  all 
swear — would  all  swear — to  the  same  thing, — that  I  was  the  thief. 
'  Sure  you  know  it  couldn't  be  so,  ma'am ;  and  yet  he  wants  to  go 
and  tell  Mr.  Hayne,'  she  would  say :  '  there's  the  four  of  'em  would 
swear  to  it,  though  Grower's  evidence  would  be  no  good  ;  but  the  two 
men  could  hurt  the  captain.'  Her  ingenuity  was  devilish  ;  for  one  of 
the  men  I  had  severely  punished  once  in  the  Black  Hills,  and  both 
hated  me  and  had  sworn  they  would  get  even  with  me  yet.  God  help 
me,  colonel !  seeing  every  day  the  growing  conviction  that  Hayne  was 
innocent,  that  somebody  else  must  be  guilty,  I  thought,  what  if  this 


THE  DESERTER.  813 

man  should,  in  drunken  gratitude  to  Hayne  for  saving-  his  life,  go  to 
him  and  tell  him  this  story,  then  back  it  up  before  the  officials  and 
call  in  these  two  others  ?  I  was  weak,  but  it  appalled  me.  I  deter- 
mined to  get  him  out  of  the  way  of  such  a  possibility.  I  got  his  dis- 
charge, and  meantime  strove  to  prevent  his  drinking  or  going  near 
Hayne.  Slie  knew  the  real  story  he  would  tell.  This  was  her  devilish 
j3lan  to  keep  me  on  watch  against  him.  I  never  dreamed  the  real 
truth.  She  swore  to  me  that  three  hundred  dollars  was  all  the  money 
they  had.  I  believed  that  when  he  confessed  it  would  be  what  she 
declared.  I  never  dreamed  that  Clancy  and  his  confederate  were  the 
thieves :  I  never  believed  the  money  was  taken  until  after  Hayne 
received  it.  I  saw  how  Hayne's  guilt  was  believed  in  even  in  the  face 
of  contradictory  evidence  before  the  court.  What  would  be  the  ten- 
dency if  three  men  together  were  to  swear  against  me,  now  that  every- 
body thought  him  wronged  ?  I  know  very  well  what  you  will  think 
of  my  cowardice.  I  know  you  and  your  officers  will  say  I  should  have 
given  him  every  chance, — should  have  courted  investigation ;  and  I 
meant  to  do  so,  but  first  I  wanted  to  hear  from  those  discharged  men  in 
Nebraska.  The  whole  scheme  would  have  been  exploded  two  months 
ago  had  I  not  been  a  coward ;  but  night  after  night  something  kept 
whispering  to  me,  '  You  have  wrecked  and  ruined  a  friendless  young 
soldier's  life.     You  shall  be  brought  as  low.'  " 

The  colonel  was,  as  he  afterwards  remarked,  hardly  equal  to  the 
occasion.  He  had  as  much  contempt  for  moral  weakness  in  a  soldier 
as  he  had  for  physical  cowardice ;  but  Rayner's  almost  abject  recital  of 
his  months  of  misery  really  left  him  nothing  to  say.  Had  the  captain 
sought  to  defend  or  justify  any  detail  of  his  conduct,  he  would  have 
pounced  on  him  like  a  panther.  Twice  the  adjutant,  sitting  an  absorbed 
and  silent  listener,  thought  the  chief  on  the  verge  of  an  outbreak ;  but 
it  never  came.  For  some  minutes  after  Rayner  ceased  the  colonel  sat 
steadily  regarding  him.     At  last  he  spoke  : 

"  You  have  been  so  frank  in  your  statement,  captain,  that  I  feel  you 
fully  appreciate  how  such  deplorable  weakness  must  be  regarded  in  an 
officer.  It  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  speak  of  that.  The  full  partic- 
ulars of  Clancy's  confession  are  not  yet  with  me.  Major  Waldron  has 
it  all  in  writing,  and  Mr.  Billings  has  merely  told  me  the  general 
features.  Of  course  you  shall  have  a  copy  of  it  in  good  time.  As  you 
go  East  to-day  and  have  your  wife  and  household  to  think  for,  it  may 
be  as  well  that  you  do  not  attempt  to  see  Mr.  Hayne  before  starting. 
And  this  matter  will  not  be  discussed." 

And  so  it  happened  that  when  the  Rayners  drove  to  the  station  that 
bright  afternoon,  and  a  throng  of  ladies  and  officers  gathered  to  see 
them  off,  some  of  the  youngsters  going  with  them  into  town  to  await 
the  coming  of  the  train,  Nellie  Travers  had  been  surrounded  by  chat- 
tering friends  of  both  sexes,  constantly  occupied,  and  yet  constantly 
looking  for  the  face  of  one  who  came  not.  For  an  hour  before  their 
departure  every  tongue  in  garrison  that  wagged  at  all — and  few  there 
were  that  wagged  not — was  discoursing  on  the  exciting  events  of  the 
morning, — Hayne's  emancipation  from  the  last  vestige  of  suspicion, 
Clancy's  capture,  confession,   and    tragic  death,  Mrs.   Clancy's  flight 


814  I'^E  DESERTER. 

and  probable  future.  At  Rayner's,  people  spoke  of  these  things  very 
guardedly,  because  every  one  saw  that  the  captain  was  moved  to  the 
depths  of  his  nature.  He  was  solemnity  itself,  and  Mrs.  Rayner 
watched  him  with  deep  anxiety,  fearful  that  he  might  be  exposed  to 
some  thoughtless  or  malicious  questioning.  Her  surveillance  was  need- 
less, however  :  even  Ross  made  no  allusion  to  the  events  of  the  morn- 
ing, though  he  communicated  to  his  fellows  in  the  subsequent  confi- 
dences of  the  club-room  that  Midas  looked  as  though  he'd  been  pulled 
through  a  series  of  knot-holes.  "  Looks  more's  though  he  were  going 
to  his  own  funeral  than  on  leave,"  he  added. 

As  for  Hayne,  he  had  been  closeted  with  the  colonel  and  Major 
Waldron  for  some  time  after  his  return, — a  conference  that  was  broken 
in  upon  by  the  startling  news  of  Clancy's  death.  Then  he  had  joined 
his  friend  the  doctor  at  the  hospital,  and  was  still  there,  striving  to 
comfort  little  Kate,  who  could  not  be  induced  to  leave  her  father's 
rapidly  stiffening  form,  when  Mrs.  Waldron  re-entered  the  room. 
Drawing  the  child  to  her  side  and  folding  her  motherly  arms  about  her, 
she  looked  up  in  Hayue's  pale  face : 

"  They  are  going  in  five  minutes.     Don't  you  mean  to  see  her  ?" 

"  Not  there, — not  under  his  roof  or  in  that  crowd.  I  will  go  to 
the  station." 

"  I  must  run  over  and  say  good-by  in  a  moment, — when  the  car- 
riage goes  around.     Shall — shall  I  say  you  will  come  ?" 

There  was  a  light  in  his  blue  eyes  she  was  just  beginning  to  notice 
now  as  she  studied  his  face.  A  smile,  flickered  one  instant  about  the 
corners  of  his  mouth,  and  then  he  held  out  his  hand  : 

"  She  knows  by  this  time,  Mrs.  Waldron." 

An  hour  later  Mrs.  Rayner  was  standing  on  the  platform  at  the 
station,  Ross  and  others  of  her  satellites  hanging  about  her ;  Captain 
Rayner  was  talking  in  subdued  tones  with  one  or  two  of  the  senior 
officers ;  Miss  Travers,  looking  feverishly  pretty,  was  chatting  busily 
with  Royce  and  Foster,  though  a  close  observer  could  have  noted  that 
her  dark  eyes  often  sought  the  westward  prairie  over  which  wound  the 
road  to  the  distant  post.  It  was  nearly  train-time,  and  three  or  four 
horsemen  could  be  seen  at  various  distances,  while,  far  out  towards  the 
fort,  long  skirmish-lines  and  fluttering  guidons  were  sweeping  over  the 
slopes  in  mimic  war-array. 

"  I  have  missed  all  this,"  she  said,  pointing  to  the  scene  ;  "  and  I 
do  love  it  so  that  it  seems  hard  to  go  just  as  all  the  real  soldier  life  is 
beginning." 

"Goodness  knows  you've  had  offers  enough  to  keep  you  here," 
said  Foster,  with  not  the  blithest  laugh  in  the  world.  "  Any  girl  who 
will  go  East  and  marry  a  '  cit'  and  leave  six  or  seven  penniless  subs 
sighing  behind  her,  I  have  my  opinion  of:  she's  eminently  level- 
headed," he  added,  with  rueful  and  uuexpected  candor. 

"  I  have  hopes  of  Miss  Travers  yet,"  boomed  Royce,  in  his  pon- 
derous basso, — "  not  personal  hopes,  Foster ;  you  needn't  feel  for  your 
pistol, — but  I  believe  that  her  heart  is  with  the  army,  like  the  soldier's 
daughter  she  is."  And,  audacious  as  was  the  speech  and  deserving  of 
instant  rebuke,  Mr.  Royce  was  startled  to  see  her  reddening  vividly. 


THE  DESERTER.  815 

He  would  have  plunged  into  hasty  apology,  but  Foster  plucked  his 
sleeve : 

"  Look  who's  coming,  you  galoot !  She  hasn't  heard  a  word  either 
of  us  has  said." 

And  though  Nellie  Travers,  noting  the  sudden  silence,  burst  into 
an  immediate  and  utterly  irrelevant  lament  over  the  loss  of  the  Maltese 
kitten, — which  had  not  been  seen  all  that  day  and  was  not  to  be  found 
when  they  came  away, — it  was  useless.  The  effort  was  gallant,  but  the 
flame  in  her  cheeks  betrayed  her  as,  throwing  his  reins  to  the  orderly 
who  followed  him,  Mr.  Hayne  dismounted  at  the  platform  and  came 
directly  towards  her.  To  Mrs.  Rayner's  unspeakable  dismay,  he  walked 
up  to  the  trio,  bowed  low  over  the  little  gloved  hand  that  was  extended 
in  answer  to  the  proffer  of  his  own,  and  next  she  saw  that  Royce  and 
Foster  had,  as  though  by  tacit  consent,  fallen  back,  and,  coram  publico, 
Mr.  Hayne  was  sole  claimant  of  the  regards  of  her  baby  sister.  There 
was  but  one  comfort  in  the  situation  :  the  train  was  in  sight.  Forget- 
fiil,  reckless  for  the  moment,  of  what  was  going  on  around  her,  she 
stood  gazing  at  the  pair.  No  woman  could  fail  to  read  the  story ;  no 
woman  could  see  his  face,  his  eyes,  his  whole  attitude  and  expression, 
and  not  read  therein  that  old,  old  story  that  grows  sweeter  with  every 
century  of  its  life.  That  he  should  be  inspired  with  sudden,  vehement 
love  for  her  exquisite  Nell  was  something  she  could  readily  understand ; 
but  what — what  meant  her  downcast  eyes,  the  flutter  of  color  on  her 
soft  and  rounded  cheek,  the  shy  uplifting  of  the  fringed  lids  from  time 
to  time  as  though  in  response  to  eager  question  or  appeal  ?  Heavens  ! 
would  that  train  never  come  ?  The  whistle  was  sounding  in  the  distance, 
but  it  would  take  ages  to  drag  those  heavy  Pullmans  up  the  grade  from 
the  bridge  where  they  had  yet  to  stop.  She  could  almost  have  darted 
forward,  seized  her  sister  by  the  wrist,  and  whispered  again  the  baleful 
reminder  that  of  late  had  had  no  mention  between  them, — "  Thou  art 
another's  ;"  but  in  her  distress  her  weak  blue  eyes  sought  her  husband's 
face.  He  saw  it  all,  and  shook  his  head.  Then  there  was  nothing  to 
be  done. 

As  the  train  came  rumbling  finally  into  the  station,  she  saw  him 
once  more  clasp  her  sister's  hand ;  then,  with  one  long  look  into  the 
sweet  face  that  was  hidden  from  her  jealous  eyes,  he  raised  his  forage- 
cap and  stepped  quickly  back  to  where  his  horse  was  lield.  Her 
husband  hastened  to  her  side  : 

"  Kate,  I  must  speak  to  him.  I  don't  care  how  he  may  take  it ;  I 
cannot  go  without  it." 

They  all  watched  the  tall  captain  as  he  strode  across  the  platform. 
Every  man  in  uniform  seemed  to  know  instinctively  that  Rayner  at  last 
was  seeking  to  make  open  reparation  for  the  bitter  wrong  he  had  done. 
One  or  two  strove  to  begin  a  general  chat  and  affect  an  interest  in  some- 
thing else,  for  Mrs.  Rayner's  benefit,  but  she,  with  trembling  lips,  stood 
gazing  after  her  husband  and  seemed  to  beg  for  silence.  Then  all 
abandoned  other  occupation,  and  every  man  stood  still  and  watched 
them.  Hayne  had  quickly  swung  into  saddle,  and  had  turned  for  one 
more  look,  when  he  saw  his  captain  with  ashen  face  striding  towards 
him,  and  heard  him  call  his  name. 


816  777^  DESERTER. 

"  By  Jove  !"  muttered  Ross,  "  what  command  that  fellow  has  over 
himself !"  for,  scrupulously  observant  of  military  etiquette,  Mr.  Hayne 
on  being  addressed  by  his  superior  officer  had  instantly  dismounted,  and 
now  stood  silently  facing  him.  Even  at  the  distance,  there  were  some 
who  thought  they  could  see  his  features  twitching ;  but  his  blue  eyes 
were  calm  and  steady, — far  clearer  than  they  had  been  but  a  moment 
agone  when  gazing  good-by  into  the  sweet  face  they  worshipped.  None 
could  hear  what  passed  between  them.  The  talk  was  very  brief;  but 
Ross  almost  gasped  with  amaze,  other  officers  looked  at  one  another  in 
utter  astonishment,  and  Mrs.  Rayner  fairly  sobbed  with  excitement  and 
emotion,  when  Mr.  Hayne  was  seen  to  hold  forth  his  hand,  and  Rayner, 
grasping  it  eagerly  in  both  his  own,  shook  it  once,  then  strode  hastily 
away  towards  the  rear  of  the  train.  His  eyes  were  filled  with  tears  he 
could  not  repress  and  could  not  bear  to  show. 

That  evening,  as  the  train  wound  steadily  eastward  into  the  shadows 
of  the  night,  and  they  looked  out  in  farewell  upon  the  slopes  they  had 
last  seen  when  a  wintry  gale  swept  fiercely  over  the  frozen  surface  and 
the  shallow  ravines  were  streaked  with  snow,  Kate  Rayner,  after  a  long 
talk  with  her  husband,  and  abandoning  her  boy  to  the  sole  guardian- 
ship of  his  nurse,  settled  herself  by  Nellie's  side,  and  Nellie  knew  that 
she  either  sought  confidences  or  had  them  to  impart.  Something  of 
the  old,  quizzical  look  was  playing  about  the  corner  of  her  pretty  mouth 
as  her  elder  sister,  with  feminine  indirectness,  began  her  verbal  skir- 
mishing with  the  subject.  It  was  some  time  before  the  question  was 
reached  which  led  to  her  real  objective : 

"  Did  he — did  Mr.  Hayne  tell  you  much  about  Clancy  ?" 

"  Not  much.     There  was  no  time." 

"  You  had  fully  ten  minutes,  I'm  sure.     It  seemed  even  longer." 

"  Four  by  the  clock,  Kate." 

"  Well,  four,  then.  He  must  have  had  something  of  greater  in- 
terest." 

No  answer.     Cheeks  reddening,  though. 

"  Didn't  he  ?"— persistently. 

"  I  will  tell  you  what  he  told  me  of  Clancy,  Kate.  Mrs.  Clancy 
had  utterly  deceived  you  as  to  what  he  had  to  tell,  had  she  not  ?" 

"  Utterly."     And  now  it  was  Mrs.  Rayner's  turn  to  color  painfully. 

"  Mr.  Hayne  tells  me  that  Clancy's  confession  really  explained  how 
Captain  Rayner  was  mistaken.  It  was  not  so  much  the  captain's  fault, 
after  all." 

"  So  Mr.  Hayne  told  him.  You  knew  they — you  saw  Mr.  Hayne 
offer  him  his  hand,  didn't  you  ?" 

"  I  did  not  see  :  I  knew  he  would."  More  vivid  color,  and  much 
hesitation  now. 

"  Knew  he  would  !  Why,  Nellie,  what  do  you  mean  ?  He  didn't 
tell  you  that  he  was  to  see  Captain  Rayner.     He  couldn't  have  known." 

"  But  I  knew,  Kate ;  and  I  told  him  how  the  captain  had  suffered." 

"  But  ho^v  could  you  know  that  he  would  shake  hands  with  him  ?" 

"  He  promised  me." 

The  silence  was  unbroken  for  a  moment.  Nellie  Travers  could 
hear  the  beatino;  of  her  own  heart  as  she  nestled  closer  to  her  sister  and 


THE  DESERTER.  817 

stole  a  hand  into  hers.  Mrs.  Rayner  was  trying  hard  to  be  dutiful, 
stern,  unbending,  to  keep  her  faith  with  the  distant  lover  in  the  East, 
whether  Nell  was  true  or  no  ;  but  she  had  been  so  humbled,  so  changed, 
so  shaken,  by  the  events  of  the  past  few  weeks,  that  she  felt  all  her  old 
spirit  of  guardianship  ebbing  away.  "  Must  I  give  you  up,  Nell  ?  and 
must  he,  too  ? — Mr.  Van  Antwerp  ?" 

"  He  has  not  answered  my  last  letter,  Kate.  It  is  nearly  a  week 
since  I  have  heard  from  him." 

"What  did  you  write,  Nellie?" 

"  Wliat  I  had  done  twice  before, — that  he  ought  to  release  me." 

"  And — is  Clancy's  the  only  confession  you  have  heard  to-day  ?" 

"  The  only  one."  A  pause :  then,  "  I  know  what  you  mean, 
Kate ;  but  he  is  not  the  man  to — to  oifer  his  love  to  a  girl  he  knows  is 
pledged  to  another." 

"But  if  you  were  free,  Nellie?     Tell  me." 

"  I  have  no  right  to  say,  Kate ;  but" — and  two  big  tears  were  well- 
ing up  into  her  brave  eyes,  as  she  clasped  her  hands  and  stretched  them 
yearningly  before  her — "  shall  I  tell  you  what  I  think  a  girl  would 
say  if  she  were  free  and  had  won  his  love  ?" 

"What,  Nellie?" 

"  She  would  say,  '  Ay.'  No  woman  with  a  heart  could  leave  a  man 
who  has  borne  so  much  and  come  through  it  all  so  bravely." 

Poor  Mrs.  Rayner  !  Humbled  and  chastened  as  she  was,  what  refuge 
had  she  but  tears,  and  then — prayer  ? 

XIX. 

Within  the  week  succeeding  the  departure  of  the  Rayners  and  Miss 
Travers,  Lieutenant  Hayne's  brother-in-law  and  his  remarkably  at- 
tractive sister  were  with  him  in  garrison  and  helping  him  fit  up  the 
new  quarters  which  the  colonel  had  rather  insisted  on  his  moving  into 
and  occupying,  even  though  two  unmarried  subalterns  had  to  move 
out  and  make  way  for  him.  This  they  seemed  rather  delighted  to  do. 
There  was  a  pi-evailing  sentiment  at  Warrener  that  nothing  was  too 
good  for  Hayne  nowadays  ;  and  he  took  all  this  adulation  so  quietly 
and  modestly  that  there  was  difficulty  in  telling  just  how  it  affected 
him.  Towards  those  who  had  known  him  well  in  the  days  of  his  early 
service  he  still  maintained  a  dignity  and  reserve  of  manner  that  kept 
them  at  some  distance.  To  others,  especially  to  the  youngsters  in  the 
— th  as  well  as  to  those  in  the  Riflers,  he  unbent  entirely,  and  was 
frank,  unaffected,  and  warm-hearted.  He  seemed  to  bask  in  the  sun- 
shine of  the  respect  and  consideration  accorded  him  on  every  side. 
Yet  no  one  could  say  he  seemed  happy.  Courteous,  grave  far  beyond 
his  years,  silent  and  thoughtful,  he  impressed  them  all  as  a  man  who 
had  suffered  too  much  ever  again  to  be  light-hearted.  Then  it  was 
more  than  believed  he  had  fallen  deeply  in  love  with  Nellie  Travers ; 
and  that  explained  the  rarity  and  sadness  of  his  smile.  To  the  women 
he  was  a  centre  of  intense  and  romantic  interest.  Mrs.  Waldron  was 
an  object  of  jealousy  because  of  the  priority  of  her  claims  to  his  re- 
gard.    Mrs.  Hurley — the  sweet  sister  who  so  strongly  resembled  him 


813  'I'HE  DESERTER. 

— was  the  recipient  of  universal  attention  from  both  sexes.  Hayne 
and  the  Hurleys,  indeed,  would  have  been  invited  to  several  places  an 
evening  could  they  have  accepted.  And  yet,  with  it  all,  Mr.  Hayne 
seemed  at  times  greatly  preoccupied.     He  had  a  great  deal  to  think  of. 

To  begin  with,  the  widow  Clancy  had  been  captured  in  one  of  the 
mining  towns,  where  she  had  souglit  refuge,  and  brought  back  by  the 
civil  authorities,  nearly  three  thousand  dollars  in  greenbacks  having 
been  found  in  her  possession.  She  had  fought  like  a  fury  and  proved 
too  much  for  the  sheriff's  posse  when  first  arrested,  and  not  until  three 
days  after  her  incarceration  was  the  entire  amount  brought  to  light. 
There  was  no  question  what  ought  to  be  done  with  it.  Clancy's  con- 
fession established  the  fact  that  almost  the  entire  amount  was  stolen 
from  Captain  Hull  nearly  six  years  before,  the  night  previous  to  his 
tragic  death  at  Battle  Butte.  Mrs.  Clancy  at  first  had  furiously  de- 
clared it  all  a  lie ;  but  Waldron's  and  Billings's  precaution  in  having 
Clancy's  entire  story  taken  down  by  a  notary  public  and  sworn  to 
before  him  eventually  broke  her  down.  She  made  her  miserable, 
whining  admissions  to  the  sheriflp's  officers  in  town, — the  colonel  would 
not  have  her  on  the  post  even  as  a  prisoner, — and  there  she  was  still 
held,  awaiting  further  disclosures,  while  little  Kate  was  lovingly  cared 
for  at  Mrs.  Waldron's.  Poor  old  Clancy  was  buried  and  on  the  way 
to  be  forgotten. 

What  proved  the  hardest  problem  for  the  garrison  to  solve  was  the 
fact  that,  while  Mr.  Hayne  kept  several  of  his  old  associates  at  a  dis- 
tance, he  had  openly  offered  his  hand  to  Kayner.  This  M'as  something 
the  Riflers  could  not  account  for.  The  intensity  of  his  feeling  at  the  time 
of  the  court-martial  none  could  forget :  the  vehemence  of  his  denuncia- 
tion of  the  captain  was  still  fresh  in  the  memory  of  those  who  heard  it. 
Then  there  were  all  those  years  in  which  Rayner  had  continued  to  crowd 
him  to  the  wall  -,  and  finally  there  was  the  almost  tragic  episode  of 
Buxton's  midnight  visitation,  in  which  Rayner,  willingly  or  not,  had 
been  in  attendance.  Was  it  not  odd  that  in  the  face  of  all  these  con- 
siderations the  first  man  to  whom  Mr.  Hayne  should  have  offered  his 
hand  was  Captain  Rayner  ?  Odd  indeed  !  But  then  only  one  or  two 
were  made  acquainted  with  the  full  particulars  of  Clancy's  con- 
fession, and  none  had  heard  Nellie  Travers's  request.  Touched  as  he 
was  by  the  sight  of  Rayner's  haggard  and  trouble-worn  face,  relieved 
as  he  was  by  Clancy's  revelation  of  the  web  that  had  been  woven  to 
cover  the  tracks  of  the  thieves  and  ensnare  the  feet  of  the  pursuers, 
Hayne  could  not  have  found  it  possible  to  offer  his  hand  ;  but  when 
he  bent  over  the  tiny  glove  and  looked  into  her  soft  and  brimming 
eyes  at  the  moment  of  their  parting  he  could  not  say  no  to  the  one 
thing  she  asked  of  him  :  it  was  that  if  Rayner  came  to  say,  "  Forgive 
me,"  before  they  left,  he  would  not  repel  him. 

There  was  one  man  in  garrison  whom  Hayne  cut  entirely,  and  for 
whom  no  one  felt  the  faintest  sympathy ;  and  that,  of  course,  was 
Buxton.  With  Rayner  gone,  he  hardly  had  an  associate,  though  the 
esfprit  de  corps  of  the  — th  prompted  the  cavalry  officers  to  be  civil  to 
him  when  he  appeared  at  the  billiard-room.  As  Mr.  Hurley  was  fond 
of  the  game,  an  element  of  awkwardness  was  manifest  the  first  time 


THE  DESERTER.  819 

the  young  officers  appeared  with  their  engineer  friend.  Hayne  had  not 
set  foot  in  such  a  place  for  five  years,  and  quietly  declined  all  invita- 
tions to  take  a  cue  again.  It  was  remembered  of  him  that  he  played 
the  prettiest  game  of  French  caroms  of  all  the  officers  at  the  station 
when  he  joined  the  Riflers  as  a  boy.  Hurley  could  only  stay  a  very 
short  time,  and  the  subalterns  were  doing  their  best  to  make  it  lively 
for  him.  Some,  indeed,  showed  strong  inclination  to  devote  themselves 
to  Mrs.  Hurley ;  but  she  was  too  busy  with  her  brother's  household 
affiiirs  to  detect  their  projects.  Hurley  had  turned  very  red  and 
glared  at  Buxton  the  first  time  the  two  njet  at  the  club-room,  but  the 
bulky  captain  speedily  found  cov^er  under  which  to  retire,  and  never 
again  showed  himself  in  general  society  until  the  engineer  with  the 
scientific  attainments  as  a  boxer  as  well  as  road-builder  was  safely  out 
of  the  post. 

And  yet  there  came  a  day  very  soon  when  Mr.  Hayne  wished  that 
he  could  go  to  Buxton's  quarters.  He  had  in  no  wise  changed  his 
opinion  of  the  man  himself,  but  the  Rayners  had  not  been  gone  a  fort- 
night before  Mrs.  Buxton  began  to  tell  the  ladies  of  the  charming  letters 
she  was  receiving  from  Mrs.  Rayner, — all  about  their  travels.  There 
were  many  things  he  longed  to  know,  yet  could  not  ask. 

There  came  to  him  a  long  and  sorrowful  letter  from  the  captain 
himself,  but,  beyond  a  few  matters  relating  to  the  company  and  the 
transfer  of  its  property,  it  was  all  given  up  to  a  recapitulation  of  the 
troubles  of  the  past  few  years  and  to  renewed  expressions  of  his  deep 
regret.  Of  the  ladies  he  made  but  casual  mention.  They  were  jour- 
neying down  the  Mississippi  on  one  of  its  big  steamers  when  he  wrote, 
and  Mrs.  Rayner  was  able  to  enjoy  the  novelties  of  the  trip,  and  was 
getting  better,  but  still  required  careful  nursing.  Miss  Travers  was 
devoted  to  her.  They  would  go  to  New  Orleans,  then  possibly  by  sea 
around  to  New  York,  arriving  there  about  the  5th  of  June  :  that,  how- 
ever, was  undecided.  He  closed  by  asking  Hayne  to  remind  Major 
Waldron  that  his  copy  of  Clancy's  confession  had  not  yet  reached  him, 
and  he  was  anxious  to  see  it  in  full. 

"  The  one  thing  lacking  to  complete  the  chain  is  Gower,"  said  the 
major,  as  he  looked  up  over  his  spectacles.  "  It  would  be  difficult  to 
tell  what  became  of  him.  We  get  tidings  of  most  of  the  deserters  who 
were  as  prominent  among  the  men  as  he  appears  to  have  been ;  but  I 
have  made  inquiry,  and  so  has  the  colonel,  and  not  a  word  has  ever  been 
heard  of  him  since  the  night  he  appeared  before  Mrs.  Clancy  and  handed 
over  the  money  to  her.  He  was  a  strange  character,  from  all  accounts, 
and  must  have  had  some  conscience,  after  all.  Do  you  remember  him 
at  all,  Hayne?" 

"  I  remember  him  well.  We  made  the  march  from  the  Big  Horn 
over  to  Battle  Butte  together,  and  he  was  a  soldier  one  could  not  help 
remarking.  Of  course  I  never  had  anything  to  say  to  him ;  but  we 
heard  he  was  an  expert  gambler  when  the  troop  was  over  there  at 
Miners'  Delight." 

"Of  course  his  testimony  isn't  necessary.  Clancy  and  his  wife  be- 
tween them  have  cleared  you,  after  burying  you  alive  five  years.  But 
nothing  but  his  story  could  explain  his  singular  conduct, — planning  the 


g20  ^^^  DESERTER. 

whole  robbery,  executing  it  with  all  the  skill  of  a  professional  jail-bird, 
deserting  and  covering  several  hundred  miles  with  his  plunder,  then 
daring  to  go  to  the  old  fort,  find  Mrs.  Clancy,  and  surrender  every 
cent,  the  moment  he  heard  of  your  trial.  What  a  fiend  that  woman 
was !     No  wonder  she  drove  Clancy  to  drink !" 

"  Will  you  send  copies  of  her  admission  with  Clancy's  affidavits  ?" 
asked  Hayne. 

''  Here  they  are  in  full,"  answered  the  major.  "  The  colonel  talks 
of  having  them  printed  and  strewn  broadcast  as  warnings  against  ^  snap 
judgment'  and  too  confident  testimony  in  future." 

Divested  of  the  legal  encumbrances  with  which  such  documents  are 
usually  weighted,  Clancy's  story  ran  substantially  as  follows  : 

"  I  was  sergeant  in  K  troop,  and  Gower  was  in  F.  We  had  been 
stationed  together  six  months  or  so  when  ordered  out  on  the  Indian 
campaign  that  summer.  I  was  dead-broke.  All  my  money  was  gone, 
and  my  wife  kept  bothering  me  for  more.  I  owed  a  lot  of  money 
around  head-quarters,  too,  and  Gower  knew  it,  and  sometimes  asked 
me  what  I  was  going  to  do  when  we  got  back  from  the  campaign.  We 
were  not  good  friends,  him  and  I.  There  was  money  dealings  between  us, 
and  then  there  was  talk  about  Mrs.  Clancy  fancying  him  too  much.  The 
paymaster  came  up  with  a  strong  escort  and  paid  off  the  boys  late  in 
October,  just  as  the  expedition  was  breaking  up  and  going  for  home, 
and  all  the  officers  and  men  got  four  months'  pay.  There  was  Lieu- 
tenant Crane  and  twenty  men  of  F  troop  out  on  a  scout,  but  the  lieu- 
tenant had  left  his  pay-rolls  with  Captain  Hull,  and  the  men  had  all 
signed  before  they  started,  and  so  the  captain  he  drew  it  all  for  them 
and  put  each  man's  money  in  an  envelope  marked  with  his  name,  and 
the  lieutenant's  too,  and  then  crowded  it  all  into  some  bigger  envelopes. 
I  was  there  where  I  could  see  it  all,  and  Gower  was  watching  him  close. 
*  It's  a  big  pile  the  captain's  got,'  says  he.  '  I'd  like  to  be  a  road-agent 
and  nab  him.'  When  I  told  him  it  couldn't  be  over  eleven  hundred 
dollars,  he  says,  '  That's  only  part.  He  has  his  own  pay,  and  six  hun- 
dred dollars  company  fund,  and  a  wad  of  greenbacks  he's  been  carryin' 
around  all  summer.  It's  nigh  on  to  four  thousand  dollars  he's  got  in  his 
saddle-bags  this  day.' 

"  And  that  night,  instead  of  Lieutenant  Crane's  coming  back,  he 
sent  word  he  had  found  the  trail  of  a  big  band  of  Indians,  and  the 
whole  crowd  went  in  pursuit.  There  was  four  companies  of  infantry, 
under  Captain  Eayner,  and  F  and  K  troops, — what  was  left  of  them, — 
that  were  ordered  to  stay  by  the  wagons  and  bring  them  safely  down ; 
and  we  started  with  them  over  towards  Battle  Butte,  keeping  south  of 
the  way  the  regiment  had  gone  to  follow  Mr.  Crane.  And  the  very 
next  day  Captain  Rayner  got  orders  to  bring  his  battalion  to  the  river 
and  get  on  the  boat,  while  the  wagons  kept  on  down  the  bank  with  us 
to  guard  them.  And  Mr.  Hayne  was  acting  quartermaster,  and  he 
stayed  with  us  ;  and  him  and  Captain  Hull  was  together  a  good  deal. 
There  was  some  trouble,  we  heard,  because  Captain  Rayner  thought 
another  officer  should  have  been  made  quartermaster  and  Mr.  Hayne 
should  have  stayed  with  his  company,  and  they  had  some  words ;  but 
Captain  Hull  gave  Mr.  Hayne  a  horse  and  seemed  to  keep  him  with 


THE  DESERTER.  821 

him ;  and  that  night,  in  sight  of  Battle  Butte,  the  steamboat  was  out  of 
sight  ahead  when  we  went  into  camp,  and  I  was  sergeant  of  the  guard 
and  had  my  fire  near  the  captain's  tent,  and  twice  in  the  evening 
Gower  came  to  me  and  said  now  was  the  time  to  lay  hands  on  the 
money  and  skip.  At  last  he  says  to  me,  '  You  are  flat-broke,  and 
they'll  all  be  down  on  you  when  you  get  back  to  the  post.  No  man  in 
America  wants  five  hundred  dollars  more  than  you  do.  I'll  give  you 
five  hundred  in  one  hour  from  now  if  you'll  get  the  captain  out  of 
his  tent  for  half  an  hour.'  Almost  everybody  was  asleep  then ;  the 
captain  was,  and  so  was  Mr.  Hayne,  and  he  went  on  to  tell  me  how  he 
could  do  it.  He'd  been  watching  the  captain.  It  made  such  a  big 
bundle,  did  the  money,  in  all  the  separate  envelopes  that  he  had  done  it 
all  up  different, — made  a  memorandum  of  the  amount  due  each  man, 
and  packed  the  greenbacks  all  together  in  one  solid  pile, — his  own 
money,  the  lieutenant's,  and  the  men's, — done  it  up  in  paper  and  tied  it 
firmly  and  put  big  blotches  of  green  sealing-wax  on  it  and  sealed  them 
with  the  seal  on  his  watch-chain.  Says  Gower,  '  You  get  the  captain 
out,  as  I  tell  you,  and  I'll  slip  right  in,  get  the  money,  stuff  some  other 
paper  with  a  few  ones  and  twos  in  the  package ;  his  seal,  his  watch,  and 
everything  is  there  in  the  saddle-bags  under  his  head,  and  I  can  reseal 
and  replace  it  in  five  minutes,  and  he'll  never  suspect  the  loss  until  the 
command  all  gets  together  again  next  week.  By  that  time  I'll  be  three 
hundred  miles  away.  Everybody  will  say  'twas  Gower  that  robbed 
him,  and  you  with  your  five  hundred  will  never  be  suspected.'  I  asked 
him  how  could  he  expect  the  captain  to  go  and  leave  so  much  money 
in  his  bags  with  no  one  to  guard  it ;  and  he  said  he'd  bet  on  it  if  I  did 
it  right.  The  captain  had  had  no  luck  tracking  Indians  that  summer, 
and  the  regiment  was  laughing  at  him.  He  knew  they  were  scatter- 
ing every  which  way  now,  and  was  eager  to  strike  them.  All  I  had  to 
do  was  to  creep  in  excited-like,  wake  him  up  sudden,  and  tell  him  I  was 
sure  I  had  heard  an  Indian  drum  and  their  scalp-dance  song  out  beyond 
the  pickets, — that  they  were  over  towards  Battle  Butte,  and  he  could 
hear  them  if  he  would  come  out  on  the  river-bank.  '  He'd  go  quick,' 
says  Gower,  '  and  think  of  nothing.' 

"And — [  wouldn't  believe  it,  but  he  did.  He  sprang  up  and  went 
right  out  with  me,  just  flinging  his  overcoat  round  him  ;  and  he  never 
seemed  to  want  to  come  in.  The  wind  was  blowing  soft-like  from  the 
southeast,  and  he  stood  there  straining  his  ears  trying  to  hear  the  sounds 
I  told  him  of;  but  at  last  he  gave  it  up,  and  we  went  back  to  camp,  and 
he  took  his  lantern  and  looked  in  his  saddle-bags,  and  I  shook  for  fear ; 
but  he  seemed  to  find  everything  all  right,  and  in  the  next  ten  minutes 
he  was  asleep,  and  Gower  came  and  whispered  to  me,  and  I  went  with 
him,  and  he  gave  me  five  hundred  dollars,  in  twenties.  '  Now  you're 
bound,'  says  he ;  '  keep  the  sentries  off  while  I  get  my  horse.'  And 
that's  the  last  I  ever  saw  of  him.  Then  a  strange  thing  happened. 
'Twas  hardly  daylight  when  a  courier  came  galloping  up,  and  I  called 
the  captain,  and  he  read  the  despatch,  and  says  he,  '  By  heaven,  Clancy, 
you  were  right  after  all.  There  are  Indians  over  there.  Why  didn't  I 
trust  your  ears?  Call  up  the  whole  command.  The  Riflers  have  treed 
them  at  Battle  Butte,  and  Captain  Rayner  has  gone  with  his  battalion. 


822  'J'ii^  DESERTER. 

We  are  to  escort  the  wagons  to  where  the  boat  lies  beyond  the  bend,  and 
then  push  over  with  all  the  horsemen  we  can  take.'  It  was  after  day- 
light when  we  got  started,  but  we  almost  ran  the  wagons  'cross  country 
to  the  boat,  and  there  Captain  Hull  took  F  troop  and  what  there  was 
of  his  own,  leaving  only  ten  men  back  with  the  wagons ;  and  not  till 
then  was  Gower  missed ;  but  all  were  in  such  a  hurry  to  get  to  the 
Indians  that  no  one  paid  attention.  Mr.  Hayne  he  begged  the  captain 
to  let  him  go  too :  so  the  train  was  left  with  the  wagon-master  and  the 
captain  of  the  boat,  and  away  we  went.  You  know  all  about  the  fight, 
and  how  'twas  Mr.  Hayne  the  captain  called  to  and  gave  his  watch  and 
the  two  packages  of  money  when  he  was  ordered  to  charge.  I  was  right 
by  his  side ;  and  I  swore — God  forgive  me  ! — that  through  the  crack 
and  tear  in  the  paper  I  could  see  the  layers  of  greenbacks,  when  I  knew 
'twas  only  some  ones  and  twos  Gower  had  slipped  in  to  make  it  look 
right ;  and  Captain  Rayner  stood  there  and  saw  the  packet,  too,  and 
Sergeant  Walshe  and  Bugler  White ;  but  them  two  were  killed  with 
him  :  so  that  'twas  only  Captain  Rayner  and  I  was  left  as  witnesses, 
and  never  till  we  got  to  Laramie  after  the  campaign  did  the  trouble 
come.  I  never  dreamed  of  anything  ever  coming  of  it  but  that  every 
one  would  say  Gower  stole  the  money  and  deserted  ;  but  when  the 
captain  turned  the  packages  over  to  Mr.  Hayne,  and  then  got  killed, 
and  Mr.  Hayne  carried  the  packages,  with  the  watch,  seal,  saddle-bags, 
and  all,  in  to  Cheyenne,  and  never  opened  them  till  he  got  there, — two 
weeks  after,  when  we  were  all  scattered, — then  they  turned  on  him,  his 
own  officers  did,  and  said  he  stole  it  and  gambled  or  sent  it  away  in 
Cheyenne. 

"  I  had  lost  much  of  my  money  then,  and  Mrs.  Clancy  got  the 
rest,  and  it  made  me  crazy  to  think  of  that  poor  young  gentleman 
accused  of  it  all ;  but  I  was  in  for  it,  and  kncM^  it  meant  prison  for 
years  for  me,  and  perhaps  they  couldn't  prove  it  on  him.  I  got  to 
drinking  then,  and  told  Captain  Rayner  that  the  — th  was  down  on  me 
for  swearing  away  the  young  officer's  character ;  and  then  he  took  me  to 
Company  B  when  the  colonel  wouldn't  have  me  any  more  in  the  — th ; 
and  one  night  when  Mrs.  Clancy  had  been  raising  my  hair  and  I  wanted 
money  to  drink  and  she'd  give  me  none,  little  Kate  told  me  her  mother 
had  lots  of  money  in  a  box,  and  that  Sergeant  Gower  had  come  and 
given  it  to  her  while  they  were  getting  settled  in  the  new  post  after  the 
Battle  Butte  campaign,  and  he  had  made  her  promise  to  give  it  to  me 
the  moment  I  got  back, — that  somebody  was  in  trouble,  and  that  I  must 
save  him ;  and  I  believed  Kate,  and  charged  Mrs.  Clancy  with  it,  and 
she  beat  me  and  Kate,  and  swore  it  was  all  a  lie ;  and  I  never  could 
get  the  money.  And  at  last  came  the  fire ;  and  it  was  the  lieutenant 
that  saved  my  life  and  Kate's,  and  brought  back  to  her  all  that  pile  of 
money  through  the  flames.  It  broke  my  heart  then,  and  I  vowed  I'd  go 
and  tell  him  the  truth ;  but  they  wouldn't  let  me.  She  told  me  the 
captain  said  he  would  kill  me  if  I  blabbed,  and  she  would  kill  Kate. 
I  didn't  dare,  until  they  told  me  my  discharge  had  come ;  and  then  I 
M^as  glad  when  the  lieutenant  and  the  major  caught  me  in  town.  When 
they  promised  to  take  care  of  little  Kate  I  didn't  care  what  happened 
to  me.      The  money  Mrs.  Clancy  has — except  perhaps  two  hundred 


THE   DESERTER.  823 

dollars — all  belongs  to  Lieutenant  Hayne,  since  he  paid  off  every  cent 
that  was  stolen  from  Captain  Hull." 

Supplemented  by  Mrs.  Clancy's  rueful  and  incoherent  admissions, 
Clancy's  story  did  its  work.  Mrs.  Clancy  could  not  long  persist  in  her 
vai'ious  denials  after  her  husband's  confession  was  brought  to  her  ears, 
and  she  was  totally  unable  to  account  satisfactorily  for  the  possession 
of  so  much  money.  Little  Kate  had  been  too  young  to  grasp  the  full 
meaning  of  what  Gower  said  to  her  mother  in  that  hurried  interview ; 
but  her  reiterated  statements  that  he  came  late  at  night,  before  the  regi- 
ment got  home,  and  knocked  at  the  door  until  he  waked  them  up,  and 
her  mother  cried  when  he  came  in,  he  looked  so  different,  and  had 
spectacles,  and  a  patch  on  his  cheek,  and  ranch  clothes,  and  he  only 
stayed  a  little  while,  and  told  her  mother  he  must  go  back  to  the  moun- 
tains, the  police  were  on  his  track, — she  knew  now  he  spoke  of  having 
deserted, — and  he  gave  her  mother  lots  of  money,  for  she  opened  and 
counted  it  afterwards  and  told  her  it  must  all  go  to  papa  to  get  some 
one  out  of  trouble, — all  were  so  clear  and  circumstantial  that  at  last 
the  hardened  woman  began  to  break  down  and  make  reluctant  ad- 
missions. When  an  astute  sheriff's  officer  finally  told  her  that  he  knew 
where  he  could  lay  hands  on  Sergeant  Gower,  she  surrendered  utterly. 
So  long  as  he  was  out  of  the  way, — could  not  be  found, — she  held  out ; 
but  the  prospect  of  dragging  into  prison  with  her  the  man  who  had 
spurned  her  in  years  gone  by  and  was  proof  against  her  fascinations 
was  too  alluring.  She  told  all  she  could  at  his  expense.  He  had 
ridden  eastward  after  his  desertion,  and,  making  his  way  down  the  Mis- 
souri, had  stopped  at  Yankton  and  gone  thence  to  Kansas  City,  spend- 
ing much  of  his  money.  He  had  reached  Denver  with  the  rest,  and 
there — she  knew  not  how — had  made  or  received  more,  when  he  heard 
of  the  fact  that  Captain  Hull  had  turned  over  his  property  to  Lieu- 
tenant Hayne  just  before  he  was  killed,  and  that  the  lieutenant  was  now 
to  be  tried  for  failing  to  account  for  it.  He  brought  her  enough  to 
cover  all  he  had  taken,  but — here  she  lied — strove  to  persuade  her  to  go 
to  San  Francisco  with  him.  She  promised  to  think  of  it  if  he  would 
leave  the  money, — which  he  did,  swearing  he  would  come  for  her  and 
it.  That  was  why  she  dared  not  tell  Mike  when  he  got  home.  He 
was  so  jealous  of  her. 

To  this  part  of  her  statement  Mrs.  Clancy  stoutly  adhered ;  but 
the  officers  believed  Kate. 

One  other  thing  she  told.  Kate  had  declared  he  wore  a  heavy 
patch  on  his  right  cheek  and  temple.  Yes,  Mrs.  Clancy  remembered 
it.  Some  scoundrels  had  sought  to  rob  him  in  Denver.  He  had  to 
fight  for  life  and  money  both,  and  his  share  of  the  honors  of  the  fray 
was  a  deep  and  clean  cut  extending  across  the  cheek-bone  and  up  above 
the  right  ear. 

As  these  family  revelations  were  told  throughout  the  garrison  and 
comment  of  every  kind  was  made  thereon,  there  is  reason  for  the  be- 
lief that  Mrs.  Buxton  found  no  difficulty  in  filling  her  letters  with 
particulars  of  deep  interest  to  her  readers,  who  by  this  time  had  carried 
out  the  programme  indicated  by  Captain  Rayner.  Mid-June  had  come ; 
the  ladies,  apparently  benefited  by  the  sea-voyage,  had  landed  in  New 


824  'I'HE  DESERTER. 

York  and  were  speedily  driven  to  their  old  quarters  at  the  Westminster ; 
and  while  the  captain  went  to  head-quarters  of  the  department  to  re- 
port his  arrival  on  leave  and  get  his  letters,  a  card  was  sent  up  to  Miss 
Travers  which  she  read  with  cheeks  that  slightly  paled  : 

"  He  is  here,  Kate." 

"  Nellie,  you — you  won't  throw  him  over,  after  all  he  has  done  and 
borne  for  you  ?" 

"  I  shall  keep  my  promise,"  was  the  answer. 

XX. 

"And  so  she's  really  going  to  marry  Mr.  Van  Antwerp/'  said 
Mrs.  Buxton  to  Mrs.  Waldron  a  few  days  later  in  the  month  of  sun- 
shine and  roses. 

"  I  did  not  think  it  possible  when  she  left,"  was  the  reply.  "  Why 
do  you  say  so  now  ?" 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Rayner  writes  that  the  captain  had  to  go  to  Washing- 
ton on  some  important  family  matters,  and  that  she  and  Nellie  were  at 
the  sea-shore  again,  and  Mr.  Van  Antwerp  was  with  them  from  morn- 
ing till  night.  He  looked  so  worn  and  haggard,  she  said,  that  Nellie 
could  not  but  take  pity  on  him.  Heavens !  think  of  having  five 
hundred  thousand  dollars  sighing  its  life  away  for  you ! — especially 
when  he's  handsome.  Mrs.  Rayner  made  me  promise  to  send  it  right 
back,  because  he  would  never  give  her  one  before,  but  she  sent  his 
picture.  It's  splendid.  Wait,  and  I'll  show  you."  And  Mrs.  Bux- 
ton darted  into  the  house. 

When  she  reappeared,  three  or  four  young  cavalrymen  were  at  the 
gate,  chatting  with  Mrs.  Waldron,  and  the  picture  was  passed  from 
hand  to  hand,  exciting  varied  comment.  It  was  a  simple  carte  de  visiter 
of  the  style  once  spoken  of  as  vignette, — only  the  head  and  shoulders 
being  visible, — but  it  was  the  picture  of  a  strong,  clear-cut  face,  with 
thick,  wavy  black  hair  just  tingeing  with  gray,  a  drooping  moustache, 
and  long  English  whiskers.  The  eyes  were  heavy-browed,  and,  though 
partially  shaded  by  the  gold-rimmed  pince-nez,  were  piercing  and  fine. 
Mr.  Van  Antwerp  was  unquestionably  a  fine-looking  man. 

"  Here  comes  Hayne,"  said  Royce.  "  Show  it  to  him.  He  likes 
pictures ;  though  I  wouldn't  like  this  one  if  I  were  in  his  place." 

Mr.  Hayne  stopped  in  some  surprise  when  hailed,  greeted  Mrs. 
Waldron  warmly,  and  bowed  courteously  to  Mrs.  Buxton,  who  was 
watching  him  narrowly. 

"  Want  to  see  a  picture  of  the  man  you  ought  to  go  and  perforate  ?" 
asked  Webster,  with  that  lofty  indifference  which  youngsters  have  to 
the  ravages  of  the  tender  passion  on  subjects  other  than  themselves. 

"  To  whom  do  you  refer  ?"  asked  Hayne,  smiling  gravely,  and 
little  imagining  what  was  in  store  for  him. 

"  This,"  said  Webster,  holding  out  the  card.  Hayne  took  it,  gave 
one  glance,  started,  seized  it  with  both  hands,  studied  it  eagerly,  while 
his  own  face  rapidly  paled,  then  looked  up  with  quick,  searching  eyes. 

"Who  is  this?"  he  asked. 

"The  man  who's  engaged  to  Miss  Travers, — Mr.  Van  Antwerp." 


THE  DESERTER.  825 

"  This — this — Mr.  Van  Antwerp  !"  exclaimed  Hayue,  his  face 
white  as  a  sheet.  *'  Here,  take  it,  Royce !"  And  in  an  instant  he 
had  turned  and  gone. 

"  Well,  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  knew  he  was  that  hard  hit,"  drawled 
Webster.     "  Did  you,  Royce  ?" 

But  Royce  did  not  answer. 

A  gorgeous  moonlight  is  bathing  the  Jersey  coast  in  sparkling 
silver.  The  tumbling  billows  come  thundering  in  to  the  shining 
strand,  and  sending  their  hissing,  seething,  whirling  waters,  all  shim- 
mer and  radiance,  to  the  very  feet  of  the  grou]«  of  spectators.  There 
are  hundreds  of  people  scattered  here  and  there  along  the  shingle,  and 
among  the  groups  a  pale-faced  young  man  in  tweed  travelling-suit  has 
made  his  way  to  a  point  where  he  can  command  a  view  of  all  the 
passers-by.  It  is  nearly  eleven  o'clock  before  they  begin  to  break  up 
and  seek  the  broad  corridors  of  the  brilliantly -lighted  hotel.  A  great 
military  band  of  nearly  forty  pieces  is  playing  superbly  at  intervals, 
and  every  now  and  then,  as  some  stirring  martial  strains  come  thrilling 
through  the  air,  a  young  girl  in  a  group  near  at  hand  beats  time  with 
her  pretty  foot  and  seems  to  quiver  with  the  influence  of  the  soldier 
melodies.  A  tall,  dark-eyed,  dark-haired  man  bends  devotedly  over 
her,  but  he,  too,  seems  to  rise  to  his  full  height  at  times,  and  there  is 
something  in  the  carriage  and  mien  that  tells  that  soldier  songs  have 
thrilled  his  veins  ere  now.  And  this  man  the  young  traveller  in  gray 
watches  as  though  his  eyes  were  fascinated.  Standing  in  the  shade  of 
a  little  summer-house,  he  never  ceases  his  scrutiny  of  the  group. 

At  last  the  musicians  go,  and  the  people  follow.  The  sands  are 
soon  deserted  ;  the  great  piazzas  are  emptied  of  their  promenaders  ;  the 
halls  and  corridors  are  still  patronized  by  the  few  belated  chaperons 
and  their  giddy  charges.  The  music-loving  girl  has  gone  aloft  to  her 
room,  and  her  aunt,  the  third  member  of  the  group  that  so  chained  the 
attention  of  the  young  man  in  gray,  lingers  for  a  moment  to  exchange 
a  few  words  with  their  cavalier.     He  seems  in  need  of  consolation. 

"  Don't  be  so  down-hearted,  Mr.  Van  Antwerp.  It  is  very  early  in 
the  summer,  and  you  have  the  whole  season  before  you." 

"  No,  Mrs.  Rayner :  it  is  very  diiferent  from  last  year.  I  cannot 
explain  it,  but  I  know  there  has  been  a  change.  I  feel  as — as  I  used 
to  in  my  old,  wild  days  when  a  change  of  luck  was  coming.  It's  like 
the  gambler's  superstition  ;  but  I  cannot  shake  it  oif.  Something  told 
me  she  was  lost  to  me  when  you  boarded  that  Pacific  Express  last  Feb- 
ruary.    I  was  a  fool  ever  to  have  let  her  go." 

''  Is  she  still  so  determined  ?" 

"  I  cannot  shake  her  resolution.  She  says  that  at  the  end  of  the 
year's  time  originally  agreed  upon  she  will  keep  her  promise ;  but  she 
will  listen  to  no  earlier  marriage.  I  have  about  given  up  all  hope. 
Something  again — that  fearful  something  I  cannot  shake  off — tells  me 
that  my  only  chance  lay  in  getting  her  to  go  with  me  this  month.  Once 
abroad  with  her,  I  could  make  her  happy  ;  but " 

He  breaks  off  irresolutely,  looking  about  him  in  the  strange,  hunted 
manner  she  has  noted  once  or  twice  already. 
Vol.  XXXIX.— 54 


826  THE  DESERTER. 

"Yon  are  all  unstrung,  Mr.  Van  Antwerp.  WI17  not  go  to  bed 
and  try  and  sleep?     You  will  be  so  much  brighter  to-morrow." 

"  I  cannot  sleep.  But  don't  let  me  keep  you.  I'll  go  out  and  smoke 
a  cigar.  Good-night,  Mrs.  Rayner.  Whatever  comes  of  it  all,  I  shall 
not  forget  your  kindness." 

So  he  turns  away,  and  she  still  stands  at  the  foot  of  the  staircase, 
"watching  him  uneasily.  He  lias  aged  greatly  in  the  past  few  months. 
She  is  shocked  to  see  how  gray,  how  fitful,  nervous,  irritable,  he  has 
become.  As  he  moves  towards  the  door-way,  she  notes  how  thin  his 
cheek  has  grown,  and  wonders  at  the  irresolution  in  his  movements 
when  he  reaches  the  broad  piazza.  He  stands  there  an  instant,  the 
massive  door- way  forming  a  frame  for  a  picture  en  silhouette,  his  tall 
spare  figure  thrown  black  upon  the  silver  sea  beyond.  He  looks  up  and 
down  the  now-deserted  galleries,  fumbles  in  his  pockets  for  his  cigar-case, 
bites  oif  with  nervous  clip  the  end  of  a  huge  "  Regalia,"  strikes  a  light, 
and  before  the  flame  is  half  applied  to  his  weed  throws  it  away,  then 
turns  sharply  and  strides  out  of  sight  towards  the  office. 

■  Another  instant,  and,  as  though  in  pursuit,  a  second  figure,  erect, 
soldierly,  with  quick  and  bounding  step  strides  across  the  glittering 
moon-streak,  and  Mrs.  Rayner's  heart  stands  still. 

Only  for  an  instant,  though.  She  has  seen  and  recognized  Lawrence 
Hayne.  Concealed  from  them  he  is  following  Mr.  Van  Antwerp,  and 
there  can  be  but  one  purpose  in  his  coming  here, — Nellie.  But  what 
can  he  want  wath  her — her  rightful  lover  ?  She  springs  from  the  loM'er 
step  on  which  she  has  been  standing,  runs  across  the  tessellated  floor, 
and  stops  short  in  the  door-way,  gazing  after  the  two  figures.  She  is 
startled  to  find  them  close  at  hand, — one,  Van  Antwerp,  close  to  the 
railing,  facing  towards  her,  his  features  ghastly  in  the  moonlight,  his 
left  hand  resting,  and  supporting  him,  on  one  of  the  tall  wooden  pil- 
lars ;  the  other,  Hayne,  with  wdiite  clinching  fists,  advancing  upon 
him.  Above  the  low  boom  and  roar  of  the  surf  she  distinctly  hears  the 
clear  tenor  ring  of  his  voice  in  the  tone  of  command  she  last  heard 
under  the  shadow  of  the  Rockies,  two  thousand  miles  away  : 

"  Halt !" 

No  wonder  a  gentleman  in  civil  life  looks  amazed  at  so  peremptory 
a  summons  from  a  total  stranger.  In  his  high  indignation  will  he  not 
strike  the  impertinent  subaltern  to  earth  ?  As  a  w-ell-bred  woman,  it 
occurs  to  her  that  she  ought  to  rush  out  and  avert  hostilities  by  in- 
trodncing  them,  or  something  ;  but  she  has  no  time  to  act.  The  next 
words  simply  take  her  ])reatli  away  : 

"Sergeant  Gower,  I  arrest  you  as  a  deserter  and  thief!  You  de- 
serted from  F  troop,  — th  Cavalry,  at  Battle  Butte  !" 

Slie  sees  the  fearful  gleam  on  the  dark  man's  face ;  there  is  a  sudden 
spring,  a  clinch,  a  straining  to  and  fro  of  two  forms, — one  tall,  black, 
snaky,  the  other  light,  lithe,  agile,  and  trained ;  muttered  curse,  panting 
breath,  and  then,  sure  as  fate,  the  taller  man  is  being  borne  backward 
against  the  rail.  She  sees  the  dark  arm  suddenly  relax  its  grasp  of  the 
gray  form  and  disappear  an  instant.  Then,  there  it  comes  again,  and 
with  it  a  gleam  of  steel.  With  one  shriek  of  warning  and  terror  she 
springs  towards  them, — -just  in  time.     Hayne  glances  up,  catches  the 


THE  DESERTER.  827 

lifted  wrist,  hurls  his  whole  weight  upon  the  tottering  figure,  and  over 
goes  the  Knickerbocker  prone  upon  the  floor.  Hayne  turns  one  in- 
stant :  "  Go  in-doors,  Mrs.  Rayner.  This  is  no  place  for  you.  Leave 
him  to  nie." 

And  in  that  instant,  before  either  can  prevent,  Steven  Van  Antwerp, 
alicLS  Gower,  springs  to  his  feet,  leaps  over  the  balcony  rail,  and  disap- 
pears in  the  depths  below.  It  is  a  descent  of  not  more  than  ten  feet  to 
the  sands  beyond  the  dark  passage  that  underlies  the  piazza,  but  he  has 
gone  down  into  the  passage  itself.  When  Mr.  Hayne,  running  down 
the  steps,  gains  his  way  to  the  space  beneath  the  piazza,  no  trace  of  the 
fugitive  can  he  find. 

Nor  does  Mr.  Van  Antwerp  appear  at  breakfast  on  the  following 
morning,  nor  again  to  any  person  known  to  this  story.  An  officer  of 
the  — th  Cavalry,  spending  a  portion  of  the  following  winter  in  Paris, 
writes  that  he  met  him  face  to  face  one  day  in  the  galleries  of  the  Louvre. 
Being  in  civilian  costume,  of  course,  and  much  changed  in  appearance 
since  he  was  a  youth  in  the  straps  of  a  second  lieutenant,  it  was  possible 
for  him  to  take  a  good  long  look  at  the  man  he  had  not  seen  since  he 
wore  the  chevrons  of  a  dashing  sergeant  in  the  Battle  Butte  campaign. 
"He  has  grown  almost  white,"  wrote  the  lieutenant,  "and  I'm  told  he 
has  abandoned  his  business  in  New  York  and  never  will  return  to  the 
United  States." 

Kayner,  too,  has  grown  gray.  A  telegram  from  his  wife  sum- 
moned him  to  the  sea-side  from  Washington  the  day  after  this  strange 
adventure  of  hers.  He  found  her  somewhat  prostrate,  his  sister-in- 
law  very  pale  and  quiet,  and  the  clerks  of  the  hotel  unable  to  account 
for  the  disappearance  of  Mr.  Van  Antwerp.  Lieutenant  Hayne,  they 
said,  had  told  them  he  received  news  which  compelled  him  to  go  back 
to  New  York  at  once ;  but  the  gentleman's  traps  were  all  in  his  room. 
Mr.  Hayne,  too,  had  gone  to  New  York ;  and  thither  the  captain 
followed.  A  letter  came  to  him  at  the  Westminster  which  he  read  and 
handed  in  silence  to  Hayne.     It  was  as  follows : 

"  By  the  time  this  reaches  you  I  shall  be  beyond  reach  of  the  law 
and  on  my  way  to  Europe  to  spend  what  may  be  left  of  my  days.  I 
hope  they  may  be  few ;  for  the  punishment  that  has  fallen  upon  me  is 
more  than  I  can  bear,  though  no  more  than  I  deserve.  You  have  heard 
that  my  college  days  were  wild,  and  that  after  repeated  warnings  my 
father  drove  me  from  home,  sending  me  to  Wyoming  to  embark  in  the 
cattle-business.  I  preferred  gambling,  and  lost  what  he  gave  me.  There 
was  nothing  then  left  but  to  enlist ;  and  I  joined  the  — th.  Mother 
still  believed  me  in  or  near  Denver,  and  wrote  regularly  there.  The 
life  was  horrible  to  me  after  the  luxury  and  lack  of  restraint  I  had 
enjoyed,  and  I  meant  to  desert.  Chance  threw  in  my  way  that  tempta- 
tion. I  robbed  poor  Hull  the  night  before  he  was  killed,  repacked  the 
paper  so  that  even  the  torn  edges  would  show  the  greenbacks,  resealed 
it, — all  just  as  I  have  had  to  hear  through  her  pure  and  sacred  lips  it 
was  finally  told  and  her  lover  saved. 

"  God  knows  I  was  shocked  when  I  heard  in  Denver  he  was  to  be 
tried  for  the  crime.     I  hasteiiied  to  Cheyenne,  not  daring  to  show  my- 


328  ^^^  DESERTER. 

self  to  him  or  any  one,  and  restored  every  cent  of  the  money,  placing 
it  in  Mrs.  Clancy's  hands,  as  I  dared  not  stay ;  but  I  had  hoped  to 
give  it  to  Clancy,  who  had  not  arrived.  The  police  knew  me,  and  I 
Tiad  to  go.  I  gave  every  cent  I  had,  and  walked  back  to  Denver,  then 
got  word  to  mother  of  ray  fearful  danger ;  and,  though  she  never  knew 
I  was  a  deserter,  she  sent  me  money,  and  I  came  East  and  went 
abroad.  Then  my  whole  life  changed.  I  was  appalled  to  think  how 
low  I  had  fallen.  I  shunned  corajmnionship,  studied,  did  well  at 
Heidelberg ;  father  forgave  me,  and  died ;  but  God  has  not  forgiven, 
and  at  the  moment  when  I  thought  my  life  redeemed  this  retribution 
overtakes  me. 

"  If  I  may  ask  anything,  it  is  that  mother  may  never  know  the 
truth.  I  will  tell  her  that  Nellie  could  not  love  me,  and  I  could  not 
bear  to  stay." 

Some  few  weeks  later  that  summer  Miss  Travers  stood  by  the  same 
balcony  rail,  with  an  open  letter  in  her  hand.  There  was  a  soft  flush 
on  her  pretty,  peachy  cheek,  and  a  far-away  look  in  her  sweet  blue 
eyes. 

"  "What  news  from  Warrener,  Nellie  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Rayner. 

"  Fluify  has  reappeared." 

"Indeed!     Where?" 

"  At  Mr.  Hayne's.  He  writes  that  as  he  returned,  the  moment  he 
entered  the  hall  she  came  running  up  to  him,  arching  her  back  and 
purring  her  delight  and  welcoming  him  just  as  though  she  belonged 
there  now ;  and " 

"And  what,  Nellie?" 

"He  says  he  means  to  keep  her  until  I  come  to  claim  her." 


THE   END. 


CADET  LIFE  at  WEST  POINT, 


By  Captain  Charles  King. 
U.  S.  A. 


New  York: 
Harper  Brothers. 


PHILLADA. 


195 


I    SHALL    BE    DEAD,  I    FEAR. 


One  throws  milk  on  my  clothes; 
T'other  plays  with  my  nose: 
What  wanting  signs  are  those ! 
Phillada  flouts  me. 


I  cannot  work  nor  sleep 

At  all  in  season, 
Love  wounds  my  heart  so  deep, 

Without  all  reason. 
I  'gin  to  pine  away 

In  my  love's  shadow, 
Like  as  a  fat  beast  may 

Penned  in  a  meadow. 
I  shall  be  dead,  I  fear, 
Within  tliis  thousand  year: 
And  all  for  that  my  dear 

Phillada  flouts  me. 


CADET  LIFE  AT  WEST  POINT. 


BY  CHARLES  KING,  U.S.A. 


TIME  of  peace 
prepai'e  for  war,'  '* 
saidWasliington, 
though  in  some- 
what different 
words,  and  he 
whom  we  delight 
to  honor  as  Fa- 
ther of  his  Coun- 
try was  alike  the 


father,  if  not  the  founder,  of  the  nation's 
Military  Academy  at  West  Point.  Possi- 
bly in  those  very  days  when  he  rested 
under  Arnold's  roof- tree  in  the  rock- 
bound  fortress  of  the  Hudson  Highlands 
he  noted  the  strange  topograpliy  that 
seemed  to  fit  the  spot  for  the  great  pur- 
pose to  which  it  has  been  devoted.  Cer- 
tain it  is  tliat  our  traditions  tell  us  George 
Washington  declared  it  the  very  ijlace  for 
the  soldier  school  of  the  United  States,  and 
here,  eai'ly  in  the  century,  the  Corps  of 
Engineers  laid  its  corner-stone,  and  be- 
came the  foster  -  parents  of  the  infant 
academy. 

Its  history  and  its  purpose  are  known 

*  "To  be  prepared  for  w.ar  is  one  of  the  most 
effectual  ways  of  preserving  peace." — Wasliwgtori's 
Address  to  Congress,  January  8,  1790. 


to  nearly  all.     Yale  and  Harvard,  its  sen- 
ioi's  by  another  century  and   more,   are 
barely  mentioned  in  some  States  and  Tei*- 
ritories  where  West  Point  is  as  a  house- 
hold word.      It  is  emphatically  the  peo- 
ple's school,  for  its  pupils  are  summoned 
from  every  Congressional  district  in  the 
Union.      It   is    democratic   to   an   extent 
that  no  other  school  can  hope  to  attain, 
for  here,  as  nowhere  else,  the  rank,  riches, 
and  prominence  of  parents  avail  as 
nothing,  and  every  man  stands  on 
his  own  merits.     Two-thirds  of  those 
appointed  find  no  place  on  the  final 
class  list,  and  the  son  of  a  President 
;>>  has  been  distanced  in  the  race  the 

son  of  a  bricklayer  won.  It  is  the 
people's  school  because  it  is  open  to 
all,  rich  or  poor,  black  or  white,  Ro- 
manist, Protestant,  or  Mormon .  The 
nation  demands  of  its  aspirant  only 
?  that  he  shall  be  perfect  in  plij'sique, 

of  good  moral  character,  and  well 
grounded  in  the  studies  of  the  public 
schools,  that  he  may  be  fitted  for  a 
training  which  in  rigor  and  exaction 
has  no  parallel  in  America.  Fifty 
years  ago — befox'e  we  had  such  pub- 
lic schools — the  standard  of  admis- 
sion was  necessarily  low,  and  three- 
fourths  of  those  who  easily  passed 
the  entrance  examination  proved 
subsequently  unable  to  grapple  with 
the  problems  of  the  four  years' course. 
Thousands  of  dollars  were  wasted  in 
feeding,  clothing,  and  turning  away 
scores  of  incompetents.  Wisely  the  au- 
thorities decreed  a  higher  standard  of 
admission  as  the  facilities  for  meeting  it 
were  spread  througiiout  the  land.  Dis- 
appointed parents  and  offended  Congress- 
men made  loud  denunciation  of  tlie 
change,  and  declared  the  new  standai'd 
one  that  Grant,  Sherman,  Sheridan,  and 
soldiers  like  them  could  never  have  pass- 
ed, forgetful  of  the  fact  that  times  too 
had  utterly  changed,  and  that  men  of  the 
mettle  of  those  very  three,  were  they  boys 
again  and  had  the  opportunities  of  the 
boys  of  to-day,  would  need  no  lowering 
of  the  bars.  The  public  schools  give 
all  the  standard  calls  for,  and  it  was  to 
keep  step  with  the  progi-ess  of  the  age 
that  a  far-sighted  Academic  Board  decided 
on  the  changre.     West  Point  would  have 


CADET  LIFE  AT  WEST  POINT. 


197 


ifi"iaf^^^^^^^~-~ 


.jSf- 


FIRST    CLASS    MAGNATES. 


fallen  hopelessly  behind  had  it  maintain- 
■ed  the  gauge  of  '46. 

Well  known  as  are  its  name  and  pur- 
poses, West  Point  to  nine-tenths  of  our 
people  is  in  its  inner  life  as  a  sealed  book. 
At  other  institutions  the  young  man  pays 
some  five  hundred  dollars  yearly  to  be  a 
student;  at  West  Point  the  institution 
pays  the  scholar.  Herein  lies  one  secret 
of  its  discipline.  Not  only  does  the  gov- 
■ernment  lay  befoi'e  the  fortunate  holder 
-of  a  cadetship  an  excellent  education  and 
a  life  position  in  a  high  and  honorable 
profession,  but  it  pays  him  for  his  efforts 
to  win  the  final  prize.  The  student  knows 
tione  of  the  cares  or  privations,  and  few  of 
Vol.  LXXV.— No.  446.— 13 


the  temptations,  of  a  large  proportion  of 
his  fellow-toilei'S  at  the  hundred  colleges 
that  adorn  our  land.  He  is  abundantly 
clothed,  warmed,  housed,  fed — provided 
for  in  every  way.  He  has  no  expenses 
that  his  income  does  not  amply  meet;  he 
has  little  or  nothing  to  distract  his  mind 
from  his  studies;  he  cannot  envy  the  dress 
or  style  of  his  wealtby  classmates,  for  the 
son  of  a  Vanderbilt  must  wear,  and  has 
worn,  the  same  garb  that  warms  the  back 
of  the  hod  carrier's  boy.  Freely  supplied 
with  provision  against  every  healthful 
need,  fully  taught  every  manly  and  grace- 
ful accomplishment,  finely  schooled  in 
science    and    in    soldier    lore,    carefully 


198 


HARPER'S  NEW  MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


nursed  and  cared  for  in  the  event  of  ill- 
ness or  injury,  the  nation's  pupil  is  indeed 
a  favored  boy. 

But  lavish  as  is  the  nation  in  all  the 
appointments  of  "its  famous  school,  there 
is  no  cent  thrown  away.  For  every  dol- 
lar spent  on  the  education  of  his  future 
officers  "Uncle  Sam"  demands — and  has 
good  right  to  demand — full  recompense. 
In  return  for  all  these  benefits  the  young 
cadet  must  bind  himself  to  four  years 
of  submission  to  the  avuncular  will;  to 
four  years  of  hard  study,  of  prescribed 
exercise,  of  close  seclusion,  of  prompt  and 
cheerful  subordination  to  rigid  discipline ; 
to  four  yeai'S  of  a  life  every  day  and  hour 
of  which  is  planned  for  him  beforehand ; 
and  he  must  willingly  yield  himself  to  the 
preconcerted  moulding,  or  give  jjlace  to 
one  who  can  and  will. 

The  casual  visitor  to  the  academy  sees 
in  cadet  life  only  a  vision  of  military  ex- 
ercises, of  gallant,  graceful  forms,  of  fault- 
less uniforms  and  glittering  arms,  of  bewil- 
dering "hops"  and  "germans,"  of  moon- 
light camps  amid  the  grandest  scenery  on 
the  continent,  of  romance  and  chivalry  all 
athrob  with  the  stirring  strains  of  martial 
music ;  but  he  who  knows  it  well  knows  it 
to  be  four  years  of  rigorous  preparation  for 
a  profession  that  is  full  of  demands  upon 
every  energy  of  manhood.  In  years  of 
association  with  the  dear  old  Point — as 
boy  visitor,  as  student  youth,  as  graduate 
and  instructor — the  writer  can  recall  hun- 
dreds of  cases  where  the  cadet  bemoaned 
the  fates  that  sent  him  into  a  life  so  full 
of  monotonous  routine  and  rigid  disci- 
pline, and  yet  not  one  instance  of  a  dis- 
charged cadet  who  did  not  sincerely  re- 
gret his  failure  and  banishment. 

To  succeed  at  West  Point  a  young  man 
must  have  good  natural  ability,  and  more 
than  the  average  capacity  for  application. 
To  be  happy  there,  he  must  be  heart,  soul, 
and  enthusiastically  a  soldier.  Without 
a  fervent  love  for  the  i^rofession  he  adopts, 
thei'e  must  come  days  and  weeks  when  he 
will  groan  in  weariness  of  spirit — so  de- 
pressing does  the  wintry  monotony  be- 
come. 

A  glimpse  at  the  brighter  side  is  best  to 
be  had  during  the  annual  encampment, 
■when  from  mid-June  until  the  end  of  Au- 
gust the  Corps  of  Cadets  deserts  the  gray 
stone  barracks,  and  pitches  its  white  tents 
among  the  trees  along  the  eastern  edge  of 
the  broad  plateau. 

Three    classes — Seniors,    Sophomores, 


and  Freshmen  they  would  be  termed  in 
college — First,  Third,  and  Fourth  they  are 
called  at  the  Point — are  here  assembled 
for  ten  weeks  of  practical  instruction  in  all 
manner  of  matters  military.  The  Junior, 
or  Second  Class,  after  two  years  of  unre- 
mitting duty,  is  away  on  the  one  almost 
delirious  break  in  the  four  years'  course 
— that  one  brief  visit  to  home  and  fireside 
that  is  vouchsafed  during  the  third  sum- 
mer of  cadet  life — the  only  visit  so  long  as. 
the  cadet  shall  wear  the  gray. 

In  camp,  as  in  barracks,  the  corps  is  or- 
ganized as  a  battalion  of  four  companies, 
with  the  full  complement  of  officers  and 
non-commissioned  officers  selected  from 
their  own  ranks.  It  is  a  proud  thing  tO' 
be  head  of  the  class,  and  prospective  pos- 
sessor of  a  commission  in  the  engineers, 
but  even  this  dignity  pales  in  cadet  eyes 
in  presence  of  those  luminaries  of  the  First 
Class— the  adjutant  and  "first  captain." 
Having  served  one  year  as  a  private  in  the 
Fourth  Class,  the  cadet  becomes  eligible  for 
appointment  to  the  grade  of  corpoi'al,  and 
some  twenty  out  of  a  hundred  young  sol- 
diers are  decorated  with  the  coveted  chev- 
rons of  gold-lace.  Another  year,  and  the 
same  number  become  sergeants,  the  most 
soldierly  and  reliable  among  them  being 
chosen  by  the  Commandant  of  Cadets  to 
be  the  first  sergeants  of  the  four  companies 
and  sergeant-major  of  the  battalion — po- 
sitions which  require  "  grit"  and  determi- 
nation quite  as  much  as  they  do  ability, 
for  the  "orderly  sergeant,"  as  he  was 
called  for  a  century,  and  still  is  called  by 
veterans  of  the  wai's  of  Mexico  and  th& 
rebellion,  is  the  very  soul  of  the  com- 
pany. One  year  moi^e,  and  the  Second 
Class  men  become  First  Class,  and  the 
most  "military"  and  meritorious  of  their 
number  step  into  the  proudest  offices  of  the 
whole  course :  the  young  soldiers  who  wear 
the  plumes  and  chevrons  of  the  adjutant 
and  captains  are  probably  envied  as  they 
will  not  again  be  for  years.  He  may  not 
realize  it  at  the  time,  but  a  "  First  Class. 
officer"  raiiks  far  higher  in  the  little  world 
at  West  Point  than  the  same  youth  grad- 
uated and  promoted  (?)  to  the  grade  of" 
junior  subaltern  at  a  frontier  post. 

A  day  in  camp  is  best  observed  late  in 
Auw'ust.  By  this  time  all  the  corps  are- 
well  shaken  down  into  their  j)Ositions. 
Tlie  new  cadets,  or  "  plebes,"  are  all  thor- 
oughly uniformed,  drilled,  and  in  theiz* 
places  in  the  battalion,  and  everything  is. 
moving  with  the  clock-like  regularity  that 


CADET  LIFE  AT  WEST  POINT. 


199 


IS  so  characteristic  of  the  academy.  With 
the  "fui'lough  class"  away,  there  are  per- 
haps two  hvxndred  and  twenty  young  sol- 
diers tenting  there  close  under  the  grass- 
grown  parapets  of  old  Fort  Clinton,  and 
their  surroundings  would  inspire  a  heart 
of  stone.  The  broad  glistening  Hudson, 
bursting  its  way  through  the  gorge  of 
the  Appalachians  from  the  north,  comes 
sweeping  down  that  magnificent  "reach" 
from  Newburgh,  and  under  the  rocky 
flanks  of  Breakneck,  Bull  Hill,  and  old 
Cro'  Nest,  swirls  around  the  jagged  point 
of  Constitution  Island,  and  tlien  is  shoul- 
dered completely  out  of  its  coui'se  by 
the  bold,  jutting  promontory  that  springs 
out  from  the  mountain  and  stems  the 
sweeping  tide.  The  river  beats  in  vain 
upon  its  adamant,  and,  flung  aside,  turns 
abruptly  eastward,  feels  its  way  around 
the  stubborn  blufi',  and  thence  flows  once 
more  southward,  "  unvexed  to  the  sea." 

North  and  east  the  Point  is  hemmed  in 
by  the  mighty  river,  west  and  south  by 
the  rock-ribbed  Highlands.  The  plateau, 
little  by  little,  has  been  levelled  and 
graded,  until  to-day  it  is  a  broad,  beauti- 
ful, grass-grown  plain,  bounded  on  the 
west  by  the  cozy  homes  of  the  officers  and 
professors,  on  the  south  by  the  stately 
barracks,  the  grim,  old-fashioned  "Aca- 
demic," the  Grecian  chapel,  and  the 
domed  turrets  of  the  Library.  Skirting  the 
precipitous  river-banks,  a  broad,  graded 
road  encloses  the  plateau  on  the  north  and 
east,  and  others,  as  level  and  carefully 
kept,  border  it  on  west  and  south,  and 
nearly  bisect  it  along  the  meridian.  Cov- 
ered with  well-cropped  tui-f,  the  western 
half  of  "  the  plain"  is  devoted  to  infantry 
drills;  the  batteries  and  the  crunching 
hoofs  of  the  horses  are  limited  to  the 
gravel  of  the  eastern  half.  All  around 
are  the  rocky  heights,  trimmed  with  pine 
and  fir  and  cedar,  with  here  and  there  a 
peep  at  the  stony  parapet  of  some  old  re- 
doubt or  battery  thrown  up  in  the  days  of 
the  Revolution.  The  square-built  hostel- 
ry, once  and  for  years  known  as  Roe's, 
stands  perched  at  the  northeast  limit  of 
the  plain.  Statues  in  bronze  or  marble 
gleam  here  and  there  amid  the  foliage, 
and  tell  of  deeds  of  heroism  and  devotion 
on  the  part  of  the  sons  of  the  old  academy. 
The  tall  white  staff  glistens  against  the 
dark  background  of  the  Highlands,  and 
throws  to  the  breeze,  high  over  all,  the 
brilliant  colors  of  the  Stars  and  Stripes; 
and  on  the  easternmost  verg    of  the  broad 


plateau  lies  the  camp  ground,  the  sum- 
mer home  of  the  Corps  of  Cadets. 

Laid  out  in  mathematical  regularity, 
with  well-gravelled  pathways,  sentry  posts, 
and  ' '  color  line,"  and  shaded  by  beautiful 
trees,  the  encampment,  like  everything 
else  at  West  Point,  is  so  exquisitely  trim 
and  neat  as  to  have  little  resemblance  to 
the  "tented  field"  as  seen  in  actual  service 
on  the  frontier.  The  white  tents  gleam 
in  accurate  ranks  that  look  as  though  they 
were  pitched  by  aid  of  the  "straight-edge" 
rule.  Farthest  to  the  west  ax'e  the  guard 
and  visitors'  tents ;  then  comes  an  open 
space  between  them  and  the  color  line, 
along  which  the  arms  are  stacked  every 
bright  day.  It  is  in  this  space  that  the 
camp  ceremonies — guard  mounting,  dress 
parade,  and  the  weekly  inspections — take 
place.  Immediately  behind  the  color  line 
are  the  tents  of  the  four  companies,  two 
inward-faciiig  rows  to  each,  with  a  broad 
alley,  known  as  the  "general  parade,"  sep- 
arating the  right  and  left  wings.  The 
company  sti'eets  run  east  and  west  perpen- 
dicularly to  the  color  line,  and  the  tents 
of  the  cadet  officers  are  pitched  looking 
west  along  the  streets  of  their  respective 
companies.  Behind  the  rows  of  company 
officers'  tents,  and  opposite  the  right  and 
left  of  camp,  are  the  larger  domiciles  of 
those  cadet  magnates  the  adjutant  and 
quartermaster.  Back  still  fartlier  are  the 
double  tents  of  the  four  ai*my  officers  who 
are  the  immediate  commanders  and  in- 
structors of  the  four  companies;  and  be- 
hind them  all,  at  the  rear  of  camp,  is  the 
big  "marquee"  of  the  Commandant  of 
Cadets.  Dotted  about  the  rear  of  camp 
are  the  little  tents  occupied  by  the  drum 
boy  "  orderlies,"  the  boot-blacks,  varnish- 
ers,  etc. ;  and  ai'ound  them  all,  day  and 
night,  paces  the  chain  of  senti'ies,  which, 
posted  in  mid-June,  is  never  removed  un- 
til the  simultaneous  fall  of  every  tent  on 
the  28th  of  August. 

One  day  is  the  counterpart  of  another 
as  the  end  of  camp  draws  nigh,  and  the 
visitor  who  would  take  a  peep  at  the  in- 
ner phases  of  cadet  life  must  have  a 
"friend  at  court,"  and  be  an  early  riser. 
Let  us  suppose  that  in  your  desire  to  have 
a  nearer  view  of  those  slender  striplings 
you  have  invoked  the  aid  of  some  one  of 
the  ofiicei'S  on  duty  at  the  Point.  He  tells 
you  to  be  prepared  to  "make  a  day  of  it," 
warns  you  to  be  called  at  5  A.M.,  and  is 
waiting  for  you  on  the  hotel  piazza  when 
you  appear.     Muffled  in  your  overcoats, 


200 


HARPER'S  NEW  MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


for  these  late  August  mornings  are  sharp- 
ly cold,  you  walk  briskly  down  the  graded 
path  leading  to  camp.  A  faint,  drowsy 
gleam  as  of  a  lantern  is  visible  at  the 
guard  tents,  and  the  gas  jets  along  the 
sentry  posts  have  the  sickly  glare  that 
early  morning  gives  to  all.  Camp  lies 
still  as  a  grave,  dim  and  ghostly,  but  all 
the  eastern  sky  is  lighting  up  with  the 
radiance  of  coming  morn,  and  the  hoary 
battlements  of  "Old  Fort  Put,"  and  the 
crags  of  Cro'  Nest  overhanging  the  sleep- 
ing Point,  are  alternately  wi*eathed  with 
wisps  of  cloud  and  roseate  in  reflection 
from  the  orient.  Not  a  sound  is  heard 
as  you  near  the  sentry  lines,  but  you 
may  never  hope  to  slip  in  unobserved. 
Keeping  beyond  hail  of  the  guard  tents, 
your  conductor  purposely  leads  you  down 
by  Fort  Clinton's  dark  parapet,  and  you 
are  close  to  the  ghostly  white  village, 
when  there  is  sudden  gleam  and  rattle 
among  the  trees,  a  flash  of  steel,  as  a  ca- 
det rifle  comes  down  to  "charge  bayonet," 
a  stern  young  voice  challenges,  "Who 
comes  there  ?"  and  before  you  stands  a 
vigilant  sentry,  the  dew  dripping  from 
the  visor  of  his  forage  cap,  the  collar  of 
his  overcoat  well  muffled  about  his  ears. 
"Friends  with  the  countersign,"  is  your 
conductor  s  prompt  reply.  ' '  Halt,  friends ! 
advance  one  with  the  countersign,"  orders 
the  sentinel,  and  at  the  uncompromising 
mandate,  while  you  "stand  fast,"  your 
friend  steps  up  to  that  levelled  bayonet, 
and  over  its  threatening  point  whispers 
some  cabalistic  word  that  in  the  twink- 
ling of  an  eye  changes  the  whole  atti- 
tude of  the  guard  from  one  of  fiei'ce  suspi- 
cion to  respectful  attention.  "Advance, 
friends,"  he  says,  as  his  heels  come  togeth- 
er and  his  rifle  to  the  "carry"  with  si- 
multaneous click ;  and  there  he  stands  like 
a  gray  and  white  statue  as  you  cross  his 
guarded  land,  and  penetrate  without  fur- 
ther hinderance  the  forbidden  limits. 

Sound  sleepers  are  the  boys,  thanks  to 
all  their  vigorous  exercise,  undoubted  ex- 
cellence of  digestion,  and  presumable 
clearness  of  conscience.  In  ten  minutes, 
by  the  inexoi*able  rules  of  West  Point, 
every  mothex"'s  son  in  that  camp  must  be 
up  and  doing,  but  among  the  tents  not  a 
soul  as  yet  is  stirring.  In  the  gathering 
light  you  can  see  the  sentries  at  the  south 
and  east  slowly  pacing  their  posts,  and 
mark  that  the  main  guard  is  astir.  A 
squad  of  little  drummer  boys  is  hastening 
across  the  plain  toward  camp;  a  corporal 


marches  two  silent  youths  in  gray  to  the 
dew-dripping  field-piece  that  stands  at  the 
northeast  angle;  the  tips  of  the  tents  are 
gaining  a  rosy  tint;  the  skies  across  the 
HudsoTi  are  gorgeous  in  their  coloring; 
the  mist  is  creeping  from  the  stream  that 
goes  swirling  down  tlie  silent  reach;  you 
hear  a  dull  thud  or  two  as  the  gunners 
ram  home  their  cartridge,  and  the  low- 
toned  chatter  of  the  drum  boys  as  they 
brace  their  batter  heads  and  look  ex- 
pectantly at  the  gilded  hands  of  the  big 
clock  in  the  "  Academic"  tower  across  the 
plain.  Suddenly  there  comes  the  mel- 
low stroke  of  the  bell,  and  with  it  a  belch- 
ing cloud  of  smoke  and  flame  from  the 
black  muzzle  of  the  gun,  a  thundering 
roar,  and  at  the  same  instant  the  shrill 
music  of  the  fifes  and  resonant  rattle  of 
the  drums  as  they  break  into  the  stirring 
rolls  of  the  reveille.  It  is  enough  to  rouse 
the  Seven  Sleepers. 

One  after  another  tent  flaps  are  raised, 
and  still  drowsy  heads  peer  forth,  and 
then  by  dozens,  erect,  slender,  buttoned  to 
the  throat  in  their  snug-fitting  "coatees," 
and  looking  all  legs  in  their  trim  white 
trousers,  the  young  fellows  swarm  upon 
the  company  streets;  but  as  yet  all  are 
"  plebes" — the  oldsters  are  in  no  such  hur- 
ry to  leave  their  warm  blankets,  and  have 
learned  the  value  of  every  military  min- 
ute. The  drums  are  playing  their  thun- 
dering march  around  camp;  dozens  of 
time-saving  plebes,  bucket-laden,  ai"e  scur- 
rying off  in  the  direction  of  the  water 
tanks,  and  come  back  ready  for  their 
al  fresco  ablutions.  If  there  be  any  who, 
like  Fitz-James  and  Roderick, 

"  mutter  their  soldier  matins  by," 

we  see  nothing  of  it.  Once  more  the 
drums  have  resumed  the  roll  of  the  re- 
veille, then  suddenly  cease.  There  comes 
a  brief  interval  of  silence,  during  which 
the  company  streets  fill  up  with  forms  in 
gray  and  white.  Then,  sharp,  quick,  im- 
perative, the  "  assembly, "or  "  second  call," 
is  rattled  on  the  drums.  ' '  Fall  in !"  order 
the  sergeants,  and  like  a  flash  eacli  com- 
pany springs  into  two  long  columns  of 
files;  for  there  is  not  an  instant  to  lose. 
Every  man  must  be  in  his  place  at  the  last 
tap  of  the  inexorable  drum — not  twenty 
seconds  from  tlie  first — and  there  it  is. 
"Left  face,"  ordei^s  each  first  sergeant  at 
the  instant,  while  his  classmate  and  sen- 
ior file-closer,  the  second  sergeant,  even 
as  he  answers  to  his  own  name,  makes 


CADET  LIFE  AT  WEST  POINT. 


201 


^^     /r%^.^^^:  st^A^ 


'^!<^^^^^^^^'^'^!^b^'^^^^^       0516  '  'differential  of  a  second"  too  late  to  get 

Jil  M  1^  '  iVli-'^''''    "i^"  ^f^-  '^  ' "il  there  before  the  final  tap, 

ii^^fw''fci^a'^'Qf^\'CPCfPri'/^o'^,?^  and  though  they  may  be 


mental  note  of  the  two  or  three  luckless 
■wights  who  come  tearing  into  ranks  just 


his  own  classmates  and  in- 


timate  friends,  those  >: 
fellows  will  figure  in 
the  day's  delinquency 
books  as  "late  at  re- 
veilley  Roll-call  at 
West  Point  is  a  rev- 
elation to  the  unini- 
tiated. Tlie  first  ser- 
geant rattles   off  his 

list  of  sergeants,  corporals,  and  then,  in  alpha- 
betical order,  the  privates,  never  hesitating  a 
second.  He  uses  no  list,  no  book,  no  card. 
Those  seventy  or  eighty  names  are  graven  in 
his  memory,  and  even  as  he  calls  each  name  he 
knows  the  voice  that  should  answer  "Hei*e," 
and  his  vigilant  eye  notes  the  sponsor.  It  is 
all  over  in  half  a  minute.  While  the  ranks  at 
his  single  word  scatter  like  sheep,  he  makes  his 
brief  soldierly  report  to  the  grave  young  captain, 
who  stands  near  the  flank,  and  the  first  duty  of 
the  day  is   over.      The  captains  report  to  the 

adjutant  or  the  officer  of  the  day,  as  may  be  the  custom  at  the  time.  Absentees,  if 
any,  are  promptly  hunted  up.  Off  come  the  gray  coats  as  bedding  is  piled,  tent 
floors  are  swept,  and  tent  walls  raised  for  ventilation,  and  in  another  half-hour  the 
drums  are  merrily  rattling  away  on  the  old  army  tune  "Pease  upon  a  Trencher" — 


*-ifIlh^ 


MARCHING   TO   THK    MESS-HALL. 


202 


HARPER'S  NEW  MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


the  soldier  signal  for  breakfast.  Again 
the  ranks  are  formed,  rolls  are  called,  the 
sergeants  march  their  companies  to  the 
color  line,  the  officers  take  their  stations, 
the  ringing  voice  of  the  "first  captain" 
— the  senior  cadet  officer — ordei'S  atten- 
tion, swings  the  battalion  into  column 
of  platoons  to  the  left,  then  "  Forward — 
guide  right — march !"  and  to  the  stirring, 
old-fashioned  music  of  the  fifes  and  drums 
awaj^they  go  across  the  broad  level  of  the 
cavalry  plain  until  they  reach  the  main 
road;  down  the  shaded  lane  between  the 
chapel  and  the  massive  fagade  of  the  ugly 
old  "Academic";  down  past  the  beautiful 
pile  of  the  new  "  Head-quarters"  and  the 
grassy  terrace  beyond,  and  then  each  pla- 
toon wheels  in  succession  to  the  right, 
springily  mounts  the  broad  stone  steps, 
and  is  swallowed  up  in  the  massive  jiortals 
of  the  Mess-hall. 

Just  so  for  years,  with  the  same  buoyant, 
elastic  tread,  in  the  same  solid  ranks,  have 
the  nation's  pupils  marched  to  their  daily 
bread.  Faces  that  grew  bronzed  and 
bearded  and  lined  with  thought  and  care 
were  bright  and  smooth-shaven  and  full  of 
pluck  and  hope  under  the  little  blue  forage 
caps,  and  forms  that  grew  massive  and 
stalwart,  or  feeble  and  shattered  with  hon- 
orable wounds,  were  all  once  clad  in  the 
tight-fitting  uniform  "coatee."  Grant, 
silent,  patient,  and  invincible;  Sherman, 
brilliant,  nervous,  and  quick;  Sheridan, 
fiery,  meteoric,  burning  with  fight  and  en- 
ergy; Lee,  skilful  and  chivalric ;  Jackson, 
daring  to  the  verge  of  recklessness,  prayer- 
ful to  the  verge  of  fanaticism ;  Hancock, 
knightly  and  superb  on  eveiy  field; 
Thomas,  leonine,  steadfast,  and  indomita- 
ble; Meade,  loyal,  dutiful,  and  resolute; 
McPherson, Sedgwick,  and  Reynolds,mag- 
nificent  even  in  death;  Stuart,  cavalier 
trooper  and  bold  rider;  Longstreet,  grim 
war-dog  of  the  Confederacy ;  Sidney  John- 
ston and  Charles  F.  Smith,  twin  types  of 
soldierly  grace  and  grandeur;  dark-eyed, 
dapper  Beauregard ;  saturnine  Halleck ; 
priestly  Polk ;  scienti  fie  and  staff -schooled 
McClellan;  "Joe"  Johnston,  Sherman's 
last  armed  antagonist;  Hood  and  Hardee, 
Hill,  Ewell,  Ramseur,  Rosser,  Armistead, 
Garnett,  Kemper,  Pickett, Sumner,  Frank- 
lin, Porter,  Heintzelman,  Burnside,  Hook- 
er, Buford,  Bayard,  Howard,  Rosecrans, 
Schofield,  Stanley,  Warren,  Gibbon,  Ord, 
Hunt,  Getty,  Humphreys — aliost  of  names 
famous  in  the  annals  of  the  great  war  and 
distinguished   in  the  history  of  the  na- 


tion— all  in  their  time,  to  the  same  old 
tunes  of  the  fife  and  drum,  marched  at 
the  command  of  the  cadet  first  captain, 
thrice  each  day,  to  take  their  soldier  ra- 
tions at  the  Mess-hall. 

True,  the  Mess-hall  itself  is  a  far  hand- 
somer building,  as  to  exterior  and  inte- 
rior, than  the  original  affair  to  which 
our  greatest  soldiei'S  were  marched,  and 
even  in  the  last  ten  years  great  changes 
have  been  made  in  the  domestic  econo- 
mies of  the  cadet.  Time  was  when  both 
table  fare  and  service  were  far  inferior  to 
what  they  ai'e  to-day,  and  far  shabbier 
than  they  should  have  been  at  the  time; 
but  now  the  Mess-hall  challenges  inspec- 
tion. Vigilant  officers  have  taken  it  in 
hand  and  made  it  a  model.  Few  institu- 
tions can  show  a  better  refectory;  none 
can  exhibit  better  appetites. 

Cheerful  conversation  promotes  good 
digestion,  say  the  doctors,  and  the  clatter 
of  tongues  as  the  boys  settle  to  their  work 
exceeds  the  racket  of  knife  and  fork  on 
the  responsive  crockery.  There  is  a  Babel 
of  voices,  an  odd  intermingling  of  dia- 
lects ;  for  every  section  of  our  broad  Union 
is  there  repi-esented,  and  no  cliques  are 
encouraged.  South  Carolina  hobnobs 
with  her  old  enemy  Massachusetts;  Creole 
blood  from  Louisiana  is  warmed  by  cof- 
fee from  the  same  urn  that  starts  the 
sluggish  veins  of  the  Pennsylvania  Dutch- 
man ;  soft- voiced  sons  of  Georgia  and  Ken- 
tucky elide  their  "r's"  and  swap  merry 
badinage  with  a  fellow  whose  backwoods 
whang  proclaims  the  "Pike"  from  Mis- 
souri; a  swarthy  Calif ornian  rips  out 
some  half-Spanish,  half-savage  expletive 
in  excited  controversy  with  his  New  Eng- 
land vis-a-vis,  whose  wildest  flight  in  the 
possibilities  of  blasphemy  is  "Gosh  all 
hemlock !"  and  a  youth  whose  clear  blue 
eyes  and  the  blondest  hair  and  skin  im- 
aginable 131'oclaim  him  a  Norseman  who 
hails  from  a  Scandinavian  district  in 
Minnesota  happens  along  at  the  instant, 
with  the  red  sash  of  the  "officer  of  the 
day"  over  his  shoulder,  and  the  gentle- 
man from  the  Golden  Gate  puts  a  bridle 
on  his  tongue  forthwith.  The  officer  of 
the  day  is  "on  honor"  to  note  in  his  re- 
port every  violation  of  academic  regula- 
tions, and  profanity  is  one  of  them. 
Wei'e  the  Californian  his  bosom  friend, 
and  dismissal  the  penalty  of  his  ofi'ence, 
there  could  be  no  middle  course.  The 
word  of  honor  of  the  cadet  is  the  7ie  phis 
ultra  of  West  Point  ethics;  there  is  no 


CADET  LIFE  AT  WEST  POINT. 


203 


r-» 


piii    — 


datory  incursion  upon  the  orchards  or 
vineyards  below  the  Point ;  but  even  to 
save  himself  or  his  best  friend  from  jDun- 
ishment  he  draws  the  line  at  one  thing — 
he  won't  lie.  When  a  cadet  says  he  has 
or  has  not  done  this  or  that,  you  can  en- 
dorse the  statement. 

And  so,  when  the  cadet  lieutenant  from 
Minnesota  reports  his  classmate  from  Cal- 
ifornia for  "  using  profane  language,"  the 
latter  never  thinks  of  questioning  the  re- 
port or  of  reproaching  the  reporter. 
It  is  a  matter  of  duty  and  honor,  and 
that  is  the  end  of  it.      California  not 
only  gets  a  formidable  figure  on  the 
demerit  books,  but  for  many  a  weary 
Saturday  afternoon  he  will  have  to 
confine  himself  to  his  room,  or  else 
"walk  extra,"  equipped 
as    a    sentinel,    up    and 
down   the   area    of   bar- 
racks. 

But  breakfast  is  over, 


;?.7'.  Zf?^, 


WALKING    AN    EXTRA 


going  behind  or  beyond  it.     It  is  the 
first  lesson  taught  the  youngster  on      '' 
joining.     It  is  preached  in  wordless 
sermons  every  day  and  hour  of  his 
four  years'  course.     It  is  the  last  thing 
of  his  education  he  is  apt  to  forget. 
Like  other  boys,  he  has  his  fun,  his 
faults,  his  vices,  and  his  "scrapes." 
He  may  violate  every  one  of  the  few 
hundred     regulations     that     have     been 
evolved  from  year  to  year;  he  may  "cut" 
church,  "run  it"  to  the  Falls  or  other  un- 
hallowed resort ;  he  may  even  make  a  pre- 


-  time  is  up;  the  first 
captain  makes  quick 
but  searching  in- 
spection of  each  ta- 
ble to  see  that  there 
has  been  no  wast- 
age ;  the  army  ' '  offi- 
cer in  charge,"  who 
is  required  to  break- 
fast, dine,  and  sup 
on  the  identical  fare 
which  is  laid  before  the  cadets,  comes  forth 
from  the  steward's  room  and  goes  on  to  in- 
spect the  kitchen.  Each  company  in  suc- 
cession receives  the  order  to  rise,  and  out 


204 


HARPEE'S  NEW  MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


^ '  (i| , 


—  s 


f 


OFFICER    OF    THE    DAY, 


into  the  air  and  sunshine,  leaping  down 
the  steps,  go  the  youngsters;  quickly  they 
spring  into  ranks,  and  suddenly  every 
voice  but  one  is  stilled— the  omnipotent 
first  captain  again — and  by  liis  command 
the  platoons  wheel  northward,  and  once 
more  to  lively  music  the  battalion  march- 
es briskly  away.  The  sentry  on  No.  6  sa- 
lutes as  they  cross  his  post;  one  instant 
they  stand  motionless  after  wheeling  into 
line,  and  then,  at  the  command,  "Bi'eak 
ranks — march  !"  scatter  like  a  great  covey 
of  quail  all  over  camp. 

Next  comes  morning  drill,  the  most  un- 


popular, because  the  most 
monotonous.  For  nearly 
an  hour  the  battalion  is 
exercised  in  the  manual  of 
arms,  and  though  this  drill 
is  one  which  is  taken  up 
"by  battalion" only  a  fort- 
night or  so  each  year,  it  is 
of  trifling  interest  to  spec- 
tators, and  a  purely  per- 
functory matter  with  the 
corps.  Years  ago,  when 
the  veteran  Scott  was  chief 
of  our  little  army,  and  its 
manoeuvres  were  of  the 
ponderous  Prussian  school, 
the  "manual,"  under  such 
commandants  as  Major 
Worth  and  Charles  F. 
Smith,  was  a  miracle  of 
precision  and  beauty,  and 
the  old-fashioned  smooth- 
bore cadet  muskets,  with 
shining  bands  and  barrels, 
were  brought  to  the  "pre- 
sent," "charge,"  or  "or- 
der" with  a  simultaneous 
crash  that  could  be  heard 
across  the  Hudson,  and  ev- 
ery motion  of  hand  or  fin- 
ger was  clock-work.  But 
with  the  adoption  of  the 
light-infantry  tactics  here 
came  a  change  that  few 
failed  to  see.  Possibly 
more  of  the  spirit  of  the 
tactics  of  Hardee  and  Up- 
ton has  been  adopted  by 
the  corps  than  those  emi- 
nent authors  ever  intend- 
\:  ed ;  certain  it  is  that  when 

unhindered  the  battalion 
of  cadets  will  slap  through 
the  manual  of  ai'ms  with 
an  easy  grace  that  is  pe- 
culiar to  itself,  and  with  small  attention, 
after  the  initiatory  "squad  drills,"  to  the 
finer  points  of  tlie  tactics.  The  genei'al 
effect  is  attractive  and  business-like,  it 
is  all  so  deft  and  quick,  but  the  old  pre- 
cision of  movement  can  no  longer  be 
claimed  for  it.  The  "manual"  is  a  mat- 
ter to  which  our  crack  regiments  in  the 
National  Guard  give  great  prominence 
and  careful  teaching;  with  the  Corps  of 
Cadets  it  is  of  minor  importance,  and  only 
when  some  new  Commandant  happens  in, 
or  a  "  tactical  officer"  who  is  a  stickler  for 
points,  is  there  any  attempt  to  hammer 


206 


HARPER'S  NEW  MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


the  battalion  into  mechanical  accuracy 
again.  There  is  a  brief  reaction,  some 
sharp  di'illing  "by  the  numbers"  for  a 
week  or  two ;  then  the  matter  is  gradually 
forgotten  in  the  press  of  something  more 
important,  and  the  corps  easily  slips  back 
into  its  own  jaunty,  nonchalant  style, 
and  keen-eyed  citizen-soldiers  who  have 
run  up  from  the  armories  of  the  Seventh 
or  Twenty -second,  in  New  York,  note 
how  this  motion  or  the  other  is  slighted, 
and  wonder  what  it  means.  It  simply 
means  that  at  the  Point  and  in  the  regular 
service  the  old  Prussian  precision  is  a 
thing  of  the  past;  officers,  cadets,  and  sol- 
diers have  a  dozen  things  of  far  greater 
importance  to  think  of  and  attend  to;  ce- 
lerity is  the  word;  and  yet — were  it  hint- 
ed to  the  battalion  that  the  "manual"  was 
to  be  overhauled  this  particular  day  on 
parade,  the  whole  command  would  "brace 
up"  and  execute  the  entire  programme 
in  a  way  that  would  confound  the  critics. 

Morning  drill  over,  there  is  another 
scattering  to  tents.  Busy  "  police"  details 
from  the  lower  classes  put  the  company 
streets  in  perfect  oi'der;  not  a  feather,  a 
match,  a  wisp  of  straw,  or  scrap  of  paper 
is  to  be  seen.  All  around  and  between 
the  tents  the  details  work,  supervised  by 
the  vigilant  eyes  of  some  corporal,  who 
well  knows  that  should  anything  be  amiss 
at  inspection,  no  one  but  himself  will  be 
held  responsible.  Nominally  the  Third 
and  Fourth  classes  are  both  represented  on 
each  "police  detail,"  but  if  the  bulk  of 
the  work  be  not  done  to  this  day  by  the 
"plebes,"  the  system  is  radically  changed 
from  that  of  twenty-five  years  ago,  when 
they  did  all  of  it. 

Busy  preparation  is  going  on  in  each  of 
the  tents.  Three,  sometimes  four,  cadets 
are  the  occupants  of  each,  and  one  of  the 
inmates  is  "orderly."  His  business  it  is 
to  see  that  the  wooden  tent  floor  is  care- 
fully swept,  the  blankets,  pillows,  and 
"comforters"  accurately  and  squarely 
piled  in  the  easternmost  corner  of  the 
floor  and  farthest  from  the  company 
street;  spare  shoes  neatly  polished  and 
aligned  at  the  bade  of  the  floor;  all  can- 
dles, candlesticks,  cleaning  materials,  and 
miscellaneous  items  stowed  away  in  the 
tin  candle  box  which  stands  at  the  foot  of 
the  rear  tent  pole  just  behind  the  butts  of 
the  polished  rifles;  all  belts,  sabres,  bay- 
onet scabbards,  and  otlier  equipments 
dusted,  and  hanging  from  their  pegs  on 
the  rear  tent  pole ;  the  jaunty  dress  hats 


perched  on  their  appropriate  shelf;  all 
woollen  clothing,  overcoats,  coatees,  rid- 
ing jackets,  etc.,  neatly  swung  on  a  rack 
beneath  the  ridge-pole;  all  other  clothing, 
including  white  trousers,  belts,  gloves,  col- 
lars, and  the  like,  stowed  in  the  "locker" — 
a  West  Point  expression  for  a  long  wood- 
en box,  about  the  size  and  shape  of  a  cof- 
fin case,  painted  a  dull  green,  and  utterly 
innocent  of  lock  or  key.  It  is  divided 
into  four  compartments,  each  a  hollow 
cube  of  about  eighteen  inches  cross  sec- 
tion, each  with  separate  lid,  inside  which 
are  tacked  some  straps  for  brushes,  shav- 
ing implements,  etc. ;  and  this  locker  is 
the  sole  stowaway  the  cadet  can  have  for 
his  summer  belongings.  Such  books  as 
ai'e  needed  or  permitted  in  camp  must  be 
neatly  piled  at  the  rear  end  of  the  locker, 
and  behind  it  is  stowed  the  broom.  The 
white  stone-ware  washbowl  rests,  bottom 
outward,  against  the  floor  near  the  front 
end  of  the  locker ;  the  water  bucket  stands 
close  beside  it;  a  little  wooden-framed 
miri'or  is  perched  on  the  front  tent  pole; 
and  every  item  must  be  of  the  prescribed 
pattern,  and  purchased  at  the  cadet  com- 
missary store,  even  to  the  soap  that  is 
placed  behind  the  washbowl.  Hypercrit- 
ical visitors  have  been  known  to  inquire 
if  each  piece  of  soap  must  be  worn  to  uni- 
form thickness,but  the  sarcasm  has  fallen 
harmless  upon  the  armor  of  West  Point 
authority.  Every  article  has  its  prescribed 
I)lace,  and  must  be  nowhere  else,  or  the 
young  gentleman  whose  name  stands  toj)- 
most  on  the  little  "orderly  board"  that 
decks  the  front  tent  pole  will  hear  of  it 
through  the  delinquency  book  within  the 
next  twenty-four  hours.  It  would  take 
the  uninitiated  visitor  half  a  day  to  put 
one  of  these  tents  in  proper  order  for  in- 
spection, but  the  expert  "yearling"  will 
do  it  in  three  minutes,  and  as  the  first 
drum  taps  for  morning  parade  he  issues 
from  his  domicile,  buttoned  to  the  throat 
in  faultlessly  fitting  uniform,  his  collar, 
belts,  gloves,  cuffs,  and  trousei's  of  glis- 
tening white,  his  shoes,  belt  plates,  and 
brasses  gleaming  with  polish,  and  his  rifle 
in  perfect  order:  a  cambric  handkerchief 
could  not  flick  a  particle  of  dust  from  his 
attire. 

The  company  grounds  are  picturesque 
sights  at  this  hour.  Up  by  the  guard 
tents  numbers  of  gayly  dressed  spectators 
are  sauntering  in  to  take  their  accustom- 
ed seats  in  the  grove  at  the  west  end.  The 
band,  headed  by  its  stately  drum-major, 


CADET  LIFE  AT  WEST  POINT. 


207 


comes  marching  across  the  plain  from  its  barracks  below  the  hill.  A  group  of  offi- 
cers approaches  from  the  distant  "mess,"  and  the  sentry  on  No.  1  rattles  his  piece  to 
"arms  port,"  and  the  heights  re-echo  to  his  stentorian  shout,  "Turn  out  the  guard — 
Commandant  of  Cadets !"  or  his  similar  announcement  of  the  approach  of  some  equally 
exalted  functionary;  the  members  of  the  guard  scramble  for  the  arm  racks,  seize  their 
rifles,  form  ranks,  and  pi'esent  ai'ms  with  a  unanimity  and  precision  that  would  de- 
light any  man  not  accustomed  to  such  displays  of  adulation.  Down  in  camp,  the 
company  streets  are  alive  with  cadets  in  full  dress  awaiting  the  "fall  in"  signal  of  the 
second  drum,  and  along  the  row  of  company  officers'  tents  a  dozen  young  satraps  are 
winding  themselves  into  their  sashes  as  none  but  cadets  ever  think  of  doing,  and  only 
cadets  succeed  in  obtaining  so  excellent  a  final  effect.  As 
an  item  of  uniform,  the  sash,  which  used  to  be  worn  by  all 
officers,  is  now  restricted  to  the  two 
grades  which  are  best  worth  havmg — 


general  and  cadet; 
the       intermediate 
are    hardly    worth 
mention     in     com- 
parison   with   either  —  and    no 
general  in  the  army  or  out  of 
it  can  beat  a  cadet  lieutenant 
in  the  art  of  putting  on  a  sash.     The  latter 
ties  one  end  around  the  tent  pole,  steps  off 
to  us  full  length  of  seven  or  eight  feet,  then 
slowly  winds  liimself  into  it  until  twice  or 
thrice  it  has  encircled  his  slender  waist  in  a 
fiat  crimson  girdle;  then  knots  it  in  graceful  loop  behind 
the  left  hip,  and  the  effect  is  complete. 

Suddenly  the  drum  again  taps  sharply.  The  gray  and 
white  flocks  in  each  company  street  resolve  themselves 
into  two  long  parallel  files,  elbow  to  elbow,  that  face  sud- 
denly outward  from  tlie  centre  of  the  camp  at  the  last  tap; 
the  glistening  rifles  spring  up  to  "support  arms,"  and  each 
first  sergeant  calls  off  his  roll  as  though  the  last  thing  he 
were  thinking  of  was  the  answering  "here";  one  after 
another  the  white-gloved  hands  snap  the  pieces  down  to  the  "carry"  and  "order"  as 
each  man  answers  to  his  name ;  the  sergeant  faces  his  captain  with  soldierly  salute 
and  takes  his  post;  the  captain  whips  out  his  shining  sword;  the  lieutenants  step  to 
their  posts— and  then  begins  the  sliarp  inspection.  Man  after  man  is  passed  under 
the  scrutinizing  eye  of  the  young  officer.  A  speck  of  rust  about  the  rifle,  a  dingy 
belt  plate,  a  soiled  or  rumpled  collar,  a  tear  in  the  glove,  a  spot  on  the  trousers, 
dust  on  the  shoes,  a  single  button  missing  or  unfastened,  any  one  of  these  or 
similar  solecisms,  be  it  on  part  of  First  Class  man  or  plebe,  tent-mate  or  stranger, 
friend  or  foe,  will  probably  be  noted  on  the  company  delinquency  book  that  day^ 
and  published  by  the  adjutant  to  the  whole  battalion  the  next  evening.     The  captain. 


PLEBE    DRILL. 


208 


HARPER'S  NEW  MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


is  a  man  of  few  words;  to  the  upper-class 
man  a  mere  look  tells  what  is  amiss;  to 
the  plebe  he  frequently  adds  a  brief  ad- 
monition or  re^jroof .  Poor  young-  bears ! 
they  have  a  host  of  troubles  to  encoun- 
ter, and  a  thousand  things  to  learn  in  less 
than  a  month.  To  see  them,  even  when 
not  in  ranks  or  on  duty,  walking  about 
camp,  during  their  first  summer  at  the 
Point,  with  their  little  fingers  pressed  to 
the  seams  of  their  trousers,  and  the  palms 
of  their  hands  flat  to  the  front,  so  that  the 
shoulders  have  to  be  square,  and  their 
backs  flat  as  an  ironing-board,  one  only 
wonders  that  even  old  age  can  ever  bend 
or  bow  them. 

Inspection  over,  there  is  a  moment's 
breathing  spell.  Then  the  adjutant,  with 
his  sergeant-major  and  markers,  appears 
at  the  head  of  the  general  parade,  raises 
his  hand  in  signal  to  the  band,  the  drum- 
major  whirls  his  baton,  drums  and  fifes 
strike  up  the  lively  notes  of  "adjutant's 
call,"  the  full  band  crashes  into  the  mar- 
tial melody  of  a  spirited  quickstep,  and 
the  four  companies  come  striding  forth. 
There  is  no  moment's  delay,  but  with  the 
ease  and  grace  of  long  j)i'actice  the  adju- 
tant forms  the  line,  the  captains  march 
their  perfectly  drilled  commands  to  their 
appointed  places,  guides  spring  out  to  the 
front,  ranks  are  dressed  to  the  centre,  the 
band  abruptly  ceases,  and  the  ringing 
voice  of  the  adjutant  orders,  "Guides 
posts !"  Each  in  turn,  the  four  companies 
are  brought  to  the  "carry,"  "order,"  and 
"  parade  rest,"  the  drum-major  whirls  his 
baton  again,  there  is  a  flourish  of  trumpets 
and  drums,  and  then  band  and  field  music 
come  "trooping"  down  in  front  of  that 
statuesque  line  of  gray  and  white.  It  is 
a  sight  well  worth  seeing  any  bright  sum- 
mer moi'ning,  and  there  are  hosts  of  look- 
ers on — mothers,  sisters,  and  sweethearts 
by  the  dozen,  each  one  of  whom  has  in 
those  motionless  ranks  some  especial  ca- 
det who  is  the  central  object  of  her 
thoughts,  however  general  may  be  the 
flow  of  conversation.  Back  to  its  post 
goes  the  band,  after  a  bewildering  counter- 
march, near  the  sentry  on  No.  6;  there 
is  another  flourish,  another  abrupt  stop 
to  the  music,  and  in  its  i)lace  there  rings 
upon  the  morning  air  the  clear  young 
voice  of  the  adjutant  as  he  calls  the 
line  to  attention,  opens  the  ranks,  then 
comes  gleaming  down  to  the  centre,  turns 
sharply  to  the  right  in  front  of  the  colors, 
and  with  quick,  springy  steps  the  most 


envied  youth  at  the  Point  stalks  out  to 
the  front,  halts  midway  to  the  command- 
ing officer,  faces  about,  and  at  his  next 
word  arms  clash  to  the  "  i^resent."  Once 
more  he  faces  the  dark  blue  figure  stand- 
ing solitaiy  at  the  front,  lowers  his  sword 
in  graceful  salute,  and  reports:  "Sir,  the 
parade  is  forixied."  The  ofiicer  in  com- 
mand may  be  a  hero  of  a  dozen  battles  and 
"brevets,"  but  to  lookers  on,  cadet  and 
civilian,  'tis  safe  to  say  he  is  an  object  of 
small  consequence  as  compared  with  the 
graceful  stripling  who  takes  his  place  at 
his  side.  Possibly  it  is  the  consciousness 
of  this  fact  that  makes  his  own  share  in 
the  ceremony  so  brief  and  perfunctory. 
He  puts  the  battalion  through  a  very  short 
exercise  in  the  manual,  and  then,  with  an 
air  of  evident  relief,  turns  over  the  control 
of  affairs  to  the  adjutant  once  more.  The 
first  sergeants  and  the  plume-crested  co- 
lossus of  a  drum-major  make  their  precise 
reports ;  then  with  simultaneous  clash  the 
officers  return  swords,  and  face  toward 
the  centre;  the  adjutant  and  his  fellow- 
magnates  close  in  front  of  the  colors,  face 
the  commanding  officer  in  a  long  line  of 
black  plumes  and  red  sashes.  ' '  Forward, 
guide  centre!"  is  the  adjutant's  next  com- 
mand, and  at  the  word  "march"  the  band 
again  strikes  up,  and  with  perfect  align- 
ment a  full  score  of  young  captains  and 
subalterns  march  jauntily  to  the  front, 
halt  short  at  six  yards  from  the  lonely- 
looking  party  in  sombre  blue,  together  the 
white-gloved  hands  are  raised  in  soldierly 
salute,  together  they  drop,  and  the  stat- 
uesque line  becomes  a  scattering  flock  as 
the  plumes  and  sashes  scurry  back  to  the 
tents,  whither  the  companies  march  at  the 
same  instant.  It  often  happens  in  camp 
that  morning  inspection  follows  instead 
of  precedes  dress  pai'ade  as  time  is  short. 
In  this  case  the  captains  jiut  their  men 
through  the  ordeal  while  a  detail  from 
each  company,  conducted  by  the  first  ser- 
geant, is  proceeding  to  another,  guard- 
mounting,  the  prettiest  ceremony  of  the 
day. 

To  all  but  those  "marching  on"  with 
the  new  guard  this  half-hour  is  the  bright- 
est between  the  rising  and  setting  of  the 
sun,  for  the  moment  inspection  is  over  all 
cadets  not  on  duty  and  who  have  friends 
among  the  lady  spectators  are  mingling 
with  them  back  of  the  guard  tents,  and 
fun  and  flirtation  begin  forthwith.  It  is 
a  short  half-hour,  for  all  too  soon  the 
warning  drum  is  thundering  again,  and 


210 


HARPER'S  NEW  MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


leave-takings  are  of  the  briefest  descrip- 
tion. Shai'p  at  the  stroke  of  nine  the 
classes  are  again  in  ranks,  and  the  hour 
of  battery  drill  has  come.  The  "plebes" 
march  stiffly  out  to  the  field  guns  south 
of  camp;  the  yearlings,  wheeling  into 
column  of  sections,  swing  jauntily  off  un- 
der their  detail  of  First  Class  officers  to 
where  the  battery  horses  have  already 
been  hitched  to  the  limbers  and  caissons 
out  on  the  cavalry  plain,  and  that  poi'tion 
of  the  senior  class  not  required  as  chiefs  of 
platoon  or  section  at  the  field  batteries  is 
already  springing  down  the  winding  path 
to  the  "sea-coast"  battery  at  the  water's 
edge,  and  presently  you  will  hear  a  thun- 
der of  great  guns  that  will  stun  all  Orange 
County — or  would,  but  for  the  barriers  of 
the  massive  liills  that  shut  us  in  on  every 
side. 

The  liveliest  spectacle,  however,  is  here 
on  the  plain,  for  of  all  the  drills  and  ex- 
ercises in  which  the  cadet  excels  he  is  at 
his  best  in  those  of  the  mounted  service. 
Daring  horsemen  are  the  youngstei's  after 
two  years'  j)ractice  in  the  riding  hall,  and 
light  battery  drill  is  a  famous  place  for 
exhibition.  Watch  the  boys  as  they  go 
to  their  stations.  The  seniors,  in  their 
riding  dress,  gauntlets,  and  cavalry  sa- 
bres, swing  easily  into  the  saddles  of  the 
somewhat  vicious-looking  steeds  that  are 
held  in  readiness  for  them,  adjust  their 
stirrups,  take  a  preliminary  and  suri-ep- 
titious  dig  with  their  spurred  heels  to  test 
the  mettle  of  their  nags,  then  clatter  off 
to  their  posts  to  look  over  the  horses  and 
drivers  of  their  detachments.  The  year- 
lings in  their  natty  shell  jackets  stand 
ready  at  the  guns;  the  bugle  blares  the 
signal  "cannoneer's  mount,"  and,  like  so 
many  agile  monkeys,  they  spring  to  their 
seats  on  the  ammunition  chests,  and  with 
another  bugle  blast,  and  rumble  of  hoof 
and  wheel  and  clink  of  trunnion,  away 
goes  the  battery  down  the  gravelly  plain. 
There  are  a  few  preliminary  moves  to 
warm  them  up  to  their  work;  the  battery 
commander,  a  young  artillery  officer  who 
knows  his  trade,  swings  them  to  and  fro, 
faster  and  faster,  from  one  formation  to 
other  —  column,  line,  and  battery  —  and 
then,  as  though  ordered  to  check  the  ad- 
vance of  an  enemy  swarming  up  the 
heights  and  give  him  canister  at  short 
range,  with  cracking  whips  and  plunging 
steeds  and  rattle  and  roar  of  hoof  and 
wheel,  and  hoarse  -  throated  commands 
and  stirring  bugle  peals,  up  the  plain  they 


come  at  tearing  gallop  until  opposite  the 
crowd  of  spectators  at  the  guard  tents, 
when  there  is  a  short,  sudden  blast,  a 
simultaneous  shout  from  the  "chiefs,"  a 
vision  of  rearing  horses  as  the  lieutenants 
and  sergeants  halt  short  on  line  with  the 
brilliant  guidon — generally  the  most  pic- 
turesque horseman  of  the  warlike  throng, 
and  always  posted  on  the  flank  neai-est 
the  ladies — a  flash  of  sabres  in  the  air,  a 
sudden  "rein  in"  of  the  line  of  caissons, 
and  gradual  settle  down  to  a  stand,  long- 
before  which,  nimble  as  cats,  the  cannon- 
eers have  sprung  from  their  seats,  and  are 
streaking  it  across  the  gap  to  where  the 
chiefs  are  seated  on  their  excited  chargers. 
Around  sweep  the  guns  with  sudden  swii'l 
that  wellnigh  capsizes  them — the  three 
youngsters  on  each  limber  seemingly 
hanging  on  as  though  seated  on  sticking 
plasters — there  is  a  rattle  and  bang  of 
pintle-hooks,  hoarse  shouts  of  "Drive  on" 
to  the  gun  teams;  gray  and  white  forms- 
leap  and  sway  in  and  out  among  the 
wheels;  sponges  and  rammers  whirl  in 
air;  there  is  a  belch  of  flame,  smoke,  and 
thunder-cloud,  a  bellowing  roar;  another, 
another — half  a  dozen  in  quick  succession ;: 
a  thick  sulphurous  haze  settles  down  on. 
the  plain  and  envelops  guns  and  gun- 
nel's; and  suddenly  comes  another  blare^ 
of  bugle.  "  Cease  firing"  is  the  shout,  and 
the  mimic  scene  of  Buena  Vista  is  over. 
Even  before  the  smoke  has  cleared  away 
another  order  is  given,  with  prompt,  ex- 
citing response;  j)lunging  horses,  crack- 
ing whips,  a  rush  of  teams,  limbers,  and 
caissons  between  the  black  muzzles  of  the- 
guns ;  a  sudden  whii'l  about  of  wheels  and 
handspikes,  and  the  next  instant  smoke- 
and  flame  are  belching  in  thunder-claps, 
over  the  very  ground  whei*e  stood  the- 
waiting  teams  only  a  moment  before. 
Then  comes  still  another  signal,  a  stowing 
away  of  handspikes  and  rammers,  a  rapid 
rein-about  of  the  limber  teams,  another 
blare,  and  away  they  go,  the  white  legs, 
of  the  cannoneers  flashing  in  a  race  be- 
side their  bounding  guns;  a  rush  across- 
the  road  to  the  edge  of  the  grassy  level 
beyond,  another  sudden  whirl  into  bat- 
tery, a  thundering  salute  to  the  rocky 
heights  to  the  west,  an  echoing  roar  from 
the  great  columbiads  and  Parrotts  at  the 
"sea-coast"  down  by  the  Hudson,  and 
the  Point  fairly  trembles  with  the  shock 
and  concussion.  There  is  no  hour  of  the 
day  to  match  the  excitement  and  elan  of 
that  of  battery  drill. 


CADET  LIFE  AT  WEST  POINT. 


211 


Ten  o'clock  puts  an  end  to  it.  Back 
come  all  the  classes  to  their  tents,  the 
yearlings  glowing  with  exhilaration  and 
life,  the  plebes  big  with  prospective 
achievements  in  the  same  line,  the  First 
Class  men  dignified  and  deliberate,  as 
becomes  their  station.  Tliere  is  but  short 
respite.  By  10.30  the  drum  again  sum- 
mons all  to  ranks,  and  away  they  go, 
in  long,  white-legged  columns,  the  seniors 
to  pontoon  drill  down  at  the  bay, 
the  yearlings  to  the  laboratory,  where 
they  learn  all  manner  of  pyrotechny, 
the  plebes  to  recitation  in  tactics, 
and  thence  to  an  hour's  drill 
of  a  far   different  kind.     West 


ners  of  a  gentleman  association  with  re- 
fined and  cultui'ed  women  is  simply  in- 
dispensable. Hence  the  now  inflexible 
rule  that  every  cadet  must  learn  to  dance, 
as  he  does  to  ride,  fence,  shoot,  spar,  and 
swim,  and  before  he  begins  his  long  tus- 
sle with  mathematics  and  science  the  em- 
hrjo  soldier  is  turned  over  to  the  daily 
ministration  of  a  Turveydi-op. 

At   one    o'clock   the   whole    battalion 


Point  aims  to  make  its  graduates  gen- 
tlemen as  well  as  soldiers,  and  gentlemen 
must  mingle  in  society  to  gain  there  the 
polish  and  ease  which  should  mark  the 
well-bred  man.  Good  dancers  have  always 
been  found  among  the  cadets,  but  for 
years  this  was  an  elective  accomplish- 
ment. Observant  officers  noted  that  as  a 
rule  only  those  cadets  who  danced  were 
apt  to  seek  the  society  of  ladies,  and  eveiy 
one  knows  that  in  "forming"  the  man- 


AT    DRESS   PARADE. 


marches  to  dinner  as  to  break- 
fast, except  that  on  days  of  unu- 
sual warmth  they  are  clad  from 
head  to  foot  in  glistening  white 
— helmets,    shell     jackets,    and 
trousers  all  spotless  as  the  driv- 
en snow.     The  First  and  Third 
classes  take  their  turns  with  the 
dancing  teacher  during  the  early 
afternoon.    At  four  o'clock  ' '  po- 
lice  call"   sounds,  and  the    entire   space 
within  the  line  of  sentries  is  scrupulously 
"spruced  up"  by  details  from  the  lower 
classes.     The  whole  battalion  forms  under 
arms  as  the  sua  goes  westering  down,  and 
with  the  long  skirmish  lines  firing  in  ad- 
vance or  retreat,  rallying  on  the  reserves 
and  around  the  colors,  or  deploying  at  the 
run,  volleying  at  imaginary  charges  of 
cavalry,  or  picking  off  the  distailt  leaders 
of  a  smoke-shrouded  adversary,  all  to  the 


CADET  LIFE  AT  WEST  POINT. 


213 


ringing  accompaniment  of  skirmish  calls 
ou  the  key-bugles,  the  scene  is  beautiful 
and  inspiring. 

The  Point  begins  toward  sundown  to 
fill  up  with  carriages  and  omnibuses  (Gen- 
eral Scott  always  insisted  on  omnibi) 
from  the  many  summer  resorts  along  the 
river-bank  below,  and  when  the  drum  taps 
for  evening  parade 
the  throng  of  spec- 
tators is  far  greater 
than  at ' '  troop,  "and 
the  ceremony  is  still 
more  stately.  The 
bang  of  the  sunset 
gun  and  the  flutter 
to  earth  of  the  great 
garrison  flag  add 
vivid  interest  to 
nervous  souls,  and 
sometimes  lead  to 
sudden  capsizing  of 
camp  -  stools  with 
their  startled  occu- 
pants, and  to  a  con- 
sequently percepti- 
ble seismic  effect  on 
the  usually  stolid 
line.  "Laughing in 
ranks"  is  one  among 
the  million  military 
misdemeanors  for 
which  a  cadet  can 
acquire  demerit, and 
a  broad  grin,  be  it 
noiseless  as  a  kit- 
ten's footfall,  is 
"laughter"  in  the 
inexorable  military 
sense. 

And  so  from  sun- 
rise to  sunset,  after 
which  comes  the 
march  to  supper,  the 
day  has  been  one  of 
ceaseless  duty  and 
instruction,  but  so 
full  of  life,  variety, 
and  spirited  move- 
ment that  it  is  not 
in    camp    that    the 

cadet  finds  cause  to  chafe  at  the  monoto- 
ny. There  have  even  been  blissful  morn- 
ing hours  for  the  two  dozen  young  fel- 
lows relieved  at  half  past  eight  from 
guard  duty,  and  given  until  dinner  roll- 
call  to  recuperate.  These  may  roam  at 
will  over  the  heights  and  ravines  to  the 
west,  look  down  from  the  battlements  of 

Vol.  LXXV.— No.  446.— 14 


Fort  Putnam  upon  that  superb  panorama 
of  earth  and  water,  the  rock-bound  prom- 
ontory with  its  tented  field,  the  glistening 
ribbon  of  I'iver  stretching  away  northward 
through  the  great  gorge  of  the  Highlands, 
the  distant  spires  of  Newburgh,  the  faint, 
mist-wreathed  outlines  of  the  Catskills 
— oh,  what  a  view  to  look  back  upon  in  af- 
ter years  of  isola- 
tion on  the  frontier, 
in  lonely  scout  amid 
w^astes  of  desert 
sage-brush  and  al- 
kali !  If  the  day  be 
warm,  the  cadet  may 
visit  the  bath-houses 
over  near  Target 
Hill,  and  tempt  the 
swift  tides  of  the 
Hudson  under  the 
wary  eye  of  the  Ger- 
man SchiL'imtn-viei- 
stei\  who  is  so  proud 
of  the  experts  he 
makes  in  general 
athletics  and  with 
fist  and  foil  and 
broadsword. 

But  there  ai'e  at- 
tractions which  out- 
rival these,  and  still 
more     likely,    wnth 
some  sweet-faced  en- 
slaver, the  cadet  may 
wander  through  the 
shades  of  that  ever- 
beautiful      "  Chain 
Battery"  walk,  that 
long  since  resigned 
its    official    title    in 
favor  of  one  so  infi- 
nitely more  descrip- 
tive —  Flirtation  — 
and  there  barter  his 
buttons    for   smiles 
that   may   serve   to 
sweeten     only    the 
idle  chat  of  a  sum- 
mer's  hour,    or   in- 
thrall  him  in  a  web 
of  silken  memories 
that  will  bind  him  close  and  closer,  a  will- 
ing victim  in   her  maiden  toils.      Every 
decade   our   statisticians   labor    over  the 
question  of  the  shifting  centre  of  popula- 
tion of  tbese  United  States,  but  no  contro- 
versy arises  as  to  the  actual  centre  of  flirta- 
tion :  all  authorities  unite  on  West  Point. 
Evening  is   our   young   soldier's   gala 


FLIRTATION. 


214 


HARPER'S  NEW  MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


THK    GRADUATING    HOP. 


time.  Three  nights  a  week  the  grim  cor- 
ridors of  the  old  "Academic"  are  alive 
with  music,  laughter,  the  swish  of  silken 
skirts,  and  animated  movement  to  and  fro 
of  dozens  of  fair  girls  in  dainty  evening 
dress,  and  of  slender  cavaliers  in  gray  and 
white,  often  brightened  with  crimson  sash 
andglitteringchevrons.  Even  the  "hops" 
are  run  on  military  time.  Precisely  at  the 
appointed  hour  the  fioor-manager  signals 
to  his  musicians,  and  the  first  dance  begins. 
Pi'ecisely  at  the  designated  moment,  be  it 
in  the  very  midst  of  dreamy  waltz  or  spir- 
ited Lancers,  the  inevitable  and  inexorable 
drum  crashes  through  the  resounding  cor- 
ridors its  imperious  summons;  the  dancers 
scurry  away  to  the  dressing-rooms ;  the  la- 
dies ai-e  bundled  into  the  waiting  'buses 
or  led  away  by  faithful  chaperons;  the 
gray  and  white  cavaliers  exchange  hur- 


ried yet  often  most  effec 

tive     good    nights    with 

their  fair  partners;  the 
drums  and  fifes  strike  up 
their  shrill  tattoo  far  over  in  camp ; 
and  away  go  the  future  hopes  of 
the  nation,  scudding  to  their  com- 
panies to  avoid  a  "  late."  For  the  eighth 
and  last  time  that  day  the  sergeants  call 
their  rolls  and  report  to  their  captains, 
the  captains  to  the  adjutant  or  officer  of 
the  day,  while  the  "  officer  in  charge,"  an 
army  lieutenant,  stands  close  at  hand  to 
see  that  all  is  in  regular  form.  Then  fol- 
low ten  minutes'  chat,  subdued  scuffle  and 
laughter  in  the  company  streets  while  tlie 
youngsters  are  making  down  their  beds 
for  the  night  (nothing  but  blankets  on  the 
hard  tent  floors) ;  then  comes  a  sudden 
single  tap  on  the  snare-drum  at  tlie  guard 
tents,  sliarp  orders  of  "Put  out  those 
lights!"  two  more  similar  taps,  and  before 
the  last  has  died  away  the  darkness  of 
Erebus  has  settled  down  on  camp,  and  all 
is  silent  as  the  grave. 

For  a  few  minutes  the  cadet  officers  pa- 
trol their  company  streets  to  insure  order, 
and  then  the  officers  of  the  guard  are  left 
in  charge.  The  sentries  pace  their  silent 
posts,  watchful,  wary,  for  tliey  know  not 
when,  nor  how,  nor  how  many  disturbers 
may  appear,  and  the  faintest  lack  of  effi- 
ciency is  visited  by  prompt  punishment. 
"  I  did  not  see,"  or  "  I  did  not  hear,"  is  an 
excuse  that  is  never  accepted,  for  sen- 
tries must  be  all  eyes,  ears,  wits,  and  pluck. 
Even  First  Class  men  when  on  post  are 


CADET  LIFE  AT  WEST  POINT. 


215 


subjected  to  manifold  tests  of  tbeir  know- 
ledge of  sentry  duty,  but  to  the  plebe  the 
first  few  nights  on  guard  are  of  vivid  in- 
terest. Time  was  when,  as  a  means  of 
making  these  youthful  guardsmen  experts 
in  their  art,  the  authorities  "winked"  at 
what  was  known  as  "  deviling  plebes  on 
post" — a  species  of  horse-play  that  had  in- 
finite zest  for  all  the  participants  except  the 
plebe.  Spectres,  spooks,  goblins  damned, 
ghosts  of  Andre  and  Arnold,  "  great  hi- 
yankidanks,"    cavalry    on    broomsticks, 


its  tents  at  the  tap  of  the  drum, and  march- 
es with  flying  colors  to  the  great  gray  bar- 
racks. Here  the  young  soldiers  are  housed 
for  the  long  academic  year,  and  for  ten 
months  of  unremitting  study.  So  long  as 
the  weather  will  permit,  there  is  one  drill 
each  afternoon  but  Saturday  and  Sunday, 
the  weekly  inspection  of  the  battalion  un- 
der arms,  and  the  daily  guard  mount  and 
parade,  but  now  everything  is  subordinated 
to  the  mental  training,  and  a  dozen  articles 
the  size  of  this  could   give  but  faint  de- 


M''  /  '^  /  ■f/^T.fz^^'i-:^ 


SUNDAY    MORNING    INSPECTION. 


light  batteries  of  wheelbarrows,  cow-boys 
with  lassos — each  and  all  must  be  seen, 
challenged,  halted,  until  examined  by  a 
corporal  of  the  guard,  and  as  all  were  apt 
to  come  at  the  same  instant,  and  from  ev- 
ery possible  dii'ection,  the  unlucky  sen- 
try was  often  at  his  wits'  end;  often,  too, 
whirled  off  his  post  and  roped  into  Fort 
Clinton  ditch.  But  "  deviling  plebes,"  as 
conducted  in  the  I'ough  old  days,  is  one  of 
the  lost  arts  at  the  Point. 

Barrack  life  is  a  far  different  thing. 
On  the  28th  of  August  the  "furlough 
class"  returns  to  duty,  the  corps  strikes 


scription  of  the  course  of  study.  Let  us 
look  rather  to  the  mode  of  life  as  now  pre- 
scribed. 

Four  stories  high  are  the  barracks, with 
spacious  cellars  underneath  ;  dry,  well  ven- 
tilated, heated  by  steam,  and  lighted  by 
gas.  Ten  hallways  with  iron  stairs  pierce 
the  massive  building  from  front  to  rear, 
each  hallway  being  termed  a  "division" 
of  barracks.  Each  division  has  four  rooms 
on  a  floor,  two  on  each  side  of  the  hall, 
and  all  rooms  except  those  in  the  great 
towers  are  of  the  same  size,  shape,  and 
finish.      The  end  farthest  from  the  win- 


210 


HARPER'S  NEW  MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


dow  is  partitioned  off  into  two  alcoves,  with  a  cross-piece 
for   curtains.      Each   alcove    contains   an   iron   bedstead 
ag-ainst  the  wall,  and  a  row  of  iron  hooks  against  the  par 
tition.      Each  room  is  furnished  with  a  stout  table,  an  iron 
mantel,  a  double  set  of  open  shelves  called  a  "clothes 
press,"  a  little   shelf  for  helmets   and  dress  hats,  a 
wooden  arm  rack,  and  wooden  pegs  for  caps  and  ac 
coutrements.      Two   cadets,  as   a  rule,  occupy  each 
room,  each  having  an  alcove  to  himself  and  the  above 
named  sumptuous  list  of  furniture  to  begin  house 


bowls  (we  used  to 
get  along  with 
one),  a  broom,  a 
candle  box  (for 
anything  but  can- 
dles, which  are  "contraband"  in  bar- 
racks), and  a  little  wooden-framed 
mirror.  Each  stows  his  white  trou- 
sers, under-clothing,  shirts,  belts,  col- 
lars, cuffs,  gloves,  sliaving  tools, 
brushes,  and  combs  on  their  appropri- 
ate shelves  in  his  half  of  the  clothes- 
press;  each  item  in  a  separate  pile  of 
its  own  kind,  neatly  folded,  folded 
edge  to  the  front,  square  and  vertical 
and  on  line  with  front  edge  of  shelf. 
All  books  except  those  in  actual  use 
are  squarely  stood  up,  backs  to  front, 


EN   RECONKAISSANCE. 


CADET  LIFE  AT  WEST  POINT. 


217 


against  the  wall  on  top  of  clothes-press,     is  incomplete  as  to  interior  detail),  dust 
Each  cadet  neatly  prints  his  name   and     his  furniture,  and  prepare  for  the  inspec- 


puts  it  over  his  shelves,  his  accoutrements, 
his  alcove,  and  in  the  slips  of  the  "  ordei'ly 
hoard";  each  folds  his  bedding,  mattress 
and  all,  on  the  head  of  his  bedstead,  and 
not  until  tattoo  can  it  he  taken  down; 
each  hangs  his  clothing  in  prescribed  or- 
der on  the  iron  hooks,  overcoat  on  first, 
uniform  coat  on  second, trousers  on  third, 
shell  jackets  and  riding  rig  further  back, 
and  the  clothes-bag  for  soiled  linen,  etc  , 
last  of  all ;  each  ranges  his  shoes  (no  boots 
allowed)  in  accurate  line,  toes  to  front,  at 
foot  of  bed;  each  takes  week  about  as 
"orderly,"  and  must  sweep  and  dust  and 
do  up  everything  in  the  room  outside  of 
his  comrade's  alcove  during:  his  "orderlv 


tion  which  must  come  at  the  next  roll  of 
the  drum.  Then  he  has  his  early  break- 
fast, and  time  for  some  study  before  reci- 
tations begin  at  eight.  Guard  is  mount- 
ed with  all  formality  on  tlie  infantry 
plain,  in  front 
of  the  Super- 
intendent s,  in 
fine  A\eather, 
and  on  the 
broad  piazzas 
of  the  bar- 
racks \\hen  it 
storms     Roll 


"  CANDIDATES    TURN    OUT    PROMPTLY  !" 


week,"  and  from  the  first  of  September  un- 
til the  middle  of  June  he  can  count  on 
that  room's  being  inspected  at  least  twice 
each  day  and  sometimes  oftener,  and  on 
being  himself  "spotted"  on  the  demerit 
books  if  the  least  thing  be  found  out  of 
place  or  in  disorder. 

At  daybreak  the  roar  of  the  reveille 
gun  and  the  thunder  of  the  drums  sum- 
mon him  to  roll-call,  and  he  goes  down 
those  iron  stairs  four  and  five  at  a  jump. 
After  that  he  has  half  an  hour  in  which 
to  sweep,  settle  things,  make  up  his  bed, 
wash  and  dress  for  the  day  {reveille  garb 


calls  are  as  regular,  though  not  as  frequent, 
as  in  camp,  but  from  8  A.M.  to  1  P.M.  no  cadet 
can  enter  any  room  in  barracks  except  his 
own,  or  leave  his  own  except  to  go  to  reci- 
tation. From  2  until  4  P.M.  the  same  rule 
obtains.  At  4.15  in  spring  and  fall  are  the 
artillery  or  infantry  drills,  and  at  some 
seasons  the  riding  lessons  of  the  Third 
Class.  At  sunset  is  the  inevitable  "re- 
treat" parade;  then  an  hour,  perhaps,  for 
exercise  and  relaxation.  Supper  in  due 
course,  and  half  an  hour  afterward  the  bu- 
gle wails  the  dismal  "call  to  quarters," 
which  summons  every  cadet  to  his  room. 


218 


HAEPER'S  NEW  MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


In  ten  minutes  the  sentries  inspect.  "All 
right  ?"  they  ask,  as  they  make  their  hur- 
ried visit  to  the  different  rooms,  and  the 
answer  covers  a  multitude  of  things,  but 
is  conclusive;  and  so  the  evening  study 
houi'S  begin.  You  may  pass  the  bright- 
ly lighted  front  of  barracks  any  wintry 
evening  and  hear  not  a  sound  but  the 
tramp  of  the  sentries  on  the  lower  floor. 
A  cadet  who  quits  his  room  to  visit  that 
of  a  comrade  does  it  at  no  little  risk.  If 
seen  or  heard  by  the  sentry,  or  caught  at 
it  by  the  "tactical  officer"  or  officer  of  the 
day,  he  is  booked  for  certain  demerits, 
and  the  punishment  of  "extras,"  or  con- 
finement during  the  one  hebdomadal  half- 
holiday. 

One  hundi'ed  demerits  in  six  months 
will  sever  the  connection  of  any  cadet 
with  the  academy  and  the  military  ser- 
vice; and  with  veiy  small  exercise  of  in- 
genuity a  cadet  can  pick  up  the  entire 
number  in  a  single  day,  and  do  it  with- 
out leaving  his  room  either.  It  was  a 
cadet  tradition  that  the  gifted  Edgar  Allan 
Poe  showed  a  phenomenal  ability  in  that 
line. 

Rigid  as  is  the  discipline  and  unbend- 
ing the  routine,  time  fairly  flies  through 
those  months  of  barrack  life.  Tlie  cadet 
marches  to  his  recitations  with  the  same 
precision  and  silence  that  he  marches  to 
parade,  and  is  no  sooner  out  of  one  recita- 
tion-room than  he  must  begin  preparation 
for  another.  As  a  rule,  there  are  but 
thi'ee  recitations  a  day — two  in  the  morn- 
ing and  one  in  the  afternoon.  Mathe- 
matics, mechanics,  and  engineering  are 
disposed  of  between  eight  and  eleven,  each 
half  of  each  class  reciting  nijie.ty  minutes, 
and  each  class  being  divided  into  sections 
of  ten  to  twelve  cadets  to  facilitate  instruc- 
tion. Each  section  has  its  own  recitation - 
room,  and  its  own  instructor  in  the  person 
of  a  young  officer  who  is  especially  skilled 
in  the  science  or  study  being  pursued. 
From  eleven  until  one,  chemistry,  geol- 
ogy, French,  and  Spanish  are  the  main 
topics;  and  in  the  drowsy  afternoons  his- 
tory, law,  and  drawing  keep  the  youngsters 
busy.  All  this  sounds  as  though  the  woi'k 
were  sedentary,  and  that  no  exercise  crept 
in,  but  such  is  far  from  the  case.  Tlie 
plebes  have  their  daily  gymnastics  under  a 
skilful  teacher,  and  tlie  three  upper  class- 
es have  the  liveliest  kind  of  exercise  in 
their  lessons  in  horsemanship.  West  Point 
riding  deserves  a  chapter  by  itself,  for  it 
would  be  a  revelation  to  the  city  schools. 


Bareback,  with  crossed  stirrups,  with  ev- 
ery kind  of  a  horse  except  an  easy  one, 
the  boys  have  to  rough  it  for  a  year  or 
more  before  they  get  a  foot-rest.  The  big, 
gloomy  riding-hall  has  its  agile  tenants 
day  after  day  during  the  fall  and  winter 
months,  and  few  indeed  are  the  boys 
who  are  not  time  and  again  rolled  in  the 
tan -bark  or  pitched  headlong  over  the 
hurdles.  A  cat  with  its  reputed  plural- 
ity of  lives  would  be  dead  a  dozen  times 
over  in  taking  half  the  chances  those 
laughing  youngsters  will  eagerly  seek  in 
their  three  years  at  cavalry  and  light- 
artillery  drill,  but  it  seems  impossible  to 
kill  a  cadet,  and  just  as  hard  to  scare  one. 
More  reckless,  daring,  graceful  riding  one 
need  never  look  to  see  than  among  the 
Seniors  when  they  come  before  the  Board 
of  Visitors  in  June;  and  all  through  the 
spring,  varied  by  occasional  scouts  and 
reconnoissances  over  the  rough  mountain 
roads,  the  drills  of  the  cavalry  battalion 
on  the  plain  are  sights  that  one  can  nev- 
er tire  of  watching;  while  after  an  hour's 
"running  at  the  heads,"  or  leaping  hur- 
dles bareback,  picking  up  handkerchiefs 
from  the  ground,  or  mounting  and  dis- 
mounting at  a  gallop,  the  boys  come  back 
from  the  hall  covered  with  glory,  and 
tan  -  bark,  but  with  famous  appetites  and 
few  bruises.  No,  there  is  no  especial 
lack  of  exercise  even  in  the  weeks  of  hard- 
est study.  Only  during  those  dread  ex- 
aminations in  January  do  some  of  the 
youngsters  seem  to  lose  their  color;  but 
the  questions  they  then  have  to  answer, 
the  two  weeks'  ordeal  they  then  have  to 
undergo,  are  enough  to  scare  an  encyclo- 
paedia. 

The  winter  soon  wears  away,  the  spring- 
time comes,  and  then  June,  the  month  of 
roses — and  graduation.  Even  as  the  stal- 
wart Seniors  are  passing  their  final  exam- 
inations the  Point  begins  to  fill  up  with 
several  score  of  young  strangers — shy, 
suspicious  youths,  in  civilian  garb  of  a 
dozen  different  fashions,  but  in  singularly 
unanimous  frame  of  mind.  One  and  all 
they  have  heard  rumor  of  the  rough 
usages  that  formerly  surrounded  the  ini- 
tiation of  the  new  cadet,  and  ai'e  on  the 
watch  for  similar  demonstrations.  No 
graduate  will  attempt  to  deny  that  there 
Avas  a  time  in  the  history  of  the  academy 
when  there  was  a  vast  deal  of  "hazing," 
and  that  it  was  continued  for  the  entire 
period  of  camp;  but  the  "plebes"  them- 
selves would  seldom  make  complaint  or 


CADET  LIFE  AT  WEST  POINT. 


219 


give  information  of  their  tormentors ;  nine 
out  of  ten  took  it  all  grimly  or  good-liu- 
moredly,  and  those  who  whined  or  pro- 
tested at  all  were  sure  to  be  the  head  devils 
of  the  next  yeai^'s  work.  ' '  Deviling"  was 
ordinarily  conducted  with  rare  discrimina- 
tion ;  those  young  men  who  were  ' '  solid, " 
self-respecting,  putting  on  no  airs,  and 
minding  their  own  business,  managed  to 
get  along  with  very  little  trouble ;  whereas 
the  yearlings  went  wild  with  ecstasy 
over  a  bumptious  new-comer  with  a  high 
opinion  of  himself.  His  life  was  made  a 
burden  to  him,  and  no  mistake.  Still,  no 
bodily  harm  was  ever  inflicted  except 
through  some  unforeseen  accident.  Haz- 
ing as  conducted  at  one  time  or  other  in 
every  college  in  the  United  States  has  had 
far  more  that  was  really  hai*mful  about 
it  thaia  the  system  as  it  prevailed  at  the 
Point;  but  the  latter  was  public  property, 
and  far  more  notice  was  taken  according- 
ly. At  most  colleges,  too,  it  was  the  meek 
and  most  friendless  of  the  Freshmen  who 
came  in  for  the  liveliest  hazing;  the  rich 
and  influential  had  means  of  escape.  At 
West  Point  the  very  opposite  was  the 
case:  the  higher  in  rank  or  riches  was  the 
father,  the  more  presumably  had  the  son 
to  be  "taken  down,"  to  reach  the  rabidly 
democratic  standard  of  the  corps. 


In  course  of  time,  however,  public  sen- 
timent set  in  very  strongly  against  the 
pi'actice.  It  took  hard  work  to  uproot  it, 
for  the  ingenuity  and  activity  of  the  corps 
are  something  plienomenal ;  but  the  thing 
has  been  done,  and  to-day  the  ancient  and 
objectionable  custom  is  but  the  shadow 
of  a  formerly  vigorous  substance.  The 
plebes  are  drilled  as  sharply  and  disci- 
plined as  thoroughly  as  ever  before,  the 
line  of  demai'cation  between  theii-s  and 
the  senior  classes  is  still  mr.intained,  but 
the  tricks  and  pranks,  the  fagging  that 
rendered  life  a  burden,  and  the  "yanking" 
that  made  night  hideous,  and  with  them 
all  that  had  a  tendency  to  the  harmful, 
have  been  practically  abolished. 

In  three-quarters  of  a  century  of  useful- 
ness and  success  the  Point  has  known  no 
era  of  higher  scholarship,  of  sounder  dis- 
cipline, and  of  more  brilliant  promise  than 
that  which  culminates  with  the  adminis- 
tration of  the  last  five  years;  and  the  re- 
port of  the  Board  of  Visitors  of  1886,  sev- 
eral of  whose  number  were  animated  by 
an  unusually  searching  spirit  of  investi- 
gation, and  stimulated  possibly  by  com- 
plaints of  undue  severitj^  and  needless  re- 
strictions, has  stamped  its  every  military 
feature,  drill,  discipline,  and  instruction, 
with  the  seal  of  its  unqualified  approval. 


A  CENTRAL  SOUDAN  TOWN. 


BY  JOSEPH  THOMSON. 


THE  general  public,  gathering  its  im- 
pressions from  contemporary  litera- 
tux*e,  has  come  to  look  upon  the  whole  of 
central  Africa — or,  in  other  words,  that 
part  undiluted  by  contact  or  intermixture 
with  fox'eign  or  Asiatic  races — as  a  region 
wholly  inhabited  by  bai'barians,  chiefly 
characterized  by  extraordinary  customs, 
the  most  degraded  forms  of  fetichism  and 
cannibalism,  with,  it  may  be,  a  decided 
taste  for  gin. 

That  this  popular  notion  is  erroneous 
in  a  marked  degree  it  will  be  the  object 
of  this  article  to  point  out.  With  this 
view  I  propose  to  describe  a  town  inhab- 
ited by  purely  African  races,  and  situated 
in  the  central  part  of  that  continental 
zone  called  the  Soudan — a  term  now  too 
often  populai'ly  restricted  to  the  eastern 
division,  or  Egyptian  Soudan. 

Let  us  imagine  that  it  is  the  month  of 
June,  near  the  close  of  the  dry  season ; 
that,  personally  conducted  b}"  me,  a  party, 
consisting  of  the  readers  of  this  article, 
have  voyaged  along  the  west  coast  of  Af- 
rica to  the  mouth  of  the  river  Niger,  safe- 
ly passed  the  malarious  region  of  the  delta 
and  lower  reaches  of  that  famous  river, 
and  then,  by  excessively  weary  overland 
marches,  come  from  the  south  to  the 
neighborhood  of  the  central  Soudan  town 
which  has  been  the  goal  of  our  pilgrim- 
age. As  we  struggle  up  a  low  rocky  hill 
of  lava  aspect  we  are  reminded  by  the 
terrific  heat  that  Herodotus  describes  the 
people  we  are  now  among  as  being  in  his 
time  strangely  characterized  by  the  daily 
custom  of  cursing  and  shaking  their  fists 
at  the  sun  at  mid-day.  We  have  long 
ceased  to  wonder  at  this,  for  we  have  en- 
joyed experiences  unknown  to  the  illus- 
trious geographer,  and  exposed  as  we  are 
to  the  sweltering  heat  of  his  solar  majes- 
ty unmitigated  by  the  shadow  of  a  cloud, 
we  ai'e  painfully  aware  of  a  tendency  to 
revert  to  the  primitive  habit. 

The  worst,  however,  is  over,  and  the 
crest  of  the  hill  is  reached,  and  as  we 
pause  to  regain  breath  and  mop  our 
streaming  faces,  we  may,  as  is  the  habit 
of  personally  conducted  parties,  improve 
our  mind  by  a  few  judicious  remarks 
tending  to  make  clear  our  whereabouts. 
We  ai-e  now  at  a  distance  of  1500  miles 
south   of   the    Mediterranean,  about  the 


same  west  from  the  Atlantic,  though  only 
about  800  miles  north  from  the  Gulf  of 
Guinea,  so  that  there  is  no  mistake  about 
our  being  in  the  heart  of  Africa.  Imme- 
diately to  the  north  of  us  lie  the  wild  and 
inhospitable  plateau  lands  of  Asben,  pass- 
ing into  the  barren  wastes  of  the  Sahara; 
to  the  west  rolls  the  Niger,  and  beyond 
lie  i^egions  yet  unxjenetrated  by  the  restless 
energy  of  the  white  man,  for  its  savage 
tribes  and  pestiferous  forests  are  more 
formidable  barriers  than  even  waterless 
and  burning  deserts;  to  the  south  lie  the 
countries  which  we  have  just  traversed, 
equally  deadly  and  dangerous,  and  which, 
like  the  district  to  the  west,  would  have 
been  impenetrable  but  for  the  fact  that 
the  Niger  winds  in  glistening  reaches, 
cleaving  a  way  through  the  primeval  for- 
ests and  malarious  delta  to  the  ocean,  as 
if  for  the  special  advantage  of  the  ubiqui- 
tous traveller;  eastward  extend  wilder- 
nesses as  barren  and  hazardous  as  those 
to  the  north.  It  will  thus  be  seen  that  if 
our  town  is  tinged  with  the  bright  flusli 
of  dawning  civilization,  it  owes  little  to  its 
environment. 

The  landscape  which  lies  below  and  in 
front  of  us,  owing  to  the  unseasonable  pe- 
riod of  the  year,  is  not  by  any  means  au 
attractive  one,  though  in  its  apparent  des- 
ert-like barrenness  not  without  a  certain 
element  of  impressiveness.  The  scorch- 
ing dry  season,  now  drawing  near  a  close, 
has  transformed  the  whole  country  into  a 
series  of  bare  I'ocks,  glaring  sands,  and  red 
fields,  which  seem  incapable  of  raising 
anything  for  either  man  or  beast.  The 
air  heated  on  these  furnace -like  plains 
rises  in  hazy  undulations,  and  comes  waft- 
ed to  us  laden  with  dust  in  an  almost  un- 
breathable  condition.  The  only  feature 
which  relieves  the  unutterable  monotony 
of  the  scene  is  the  occurrence  here  and 
there  of  grim,  rugged,  solitary  trees,  which 
bid  defiance  to  the  scorching  sun  and  arid 
soil,  and  the  appearance  of  a  serpentine 
line  of  green  stretching  snake-like  along 
the  plain,  indicating  the  verdure- clad 
banks  of  a  dried-up  stream  winding  west- 
wai'd  toward  the  Niger. 

If  we  now  turn  our  attention  to  the 
northern  aspect  of  the  hill  on  which  we 
stand,  we  shall  observe  extending  for- 
ward a  low  broken  platform  some  three 


THE  LEAVENWORTH  SCHOOL 


By  Captain"  Charles  King, 
U.  S.  A. 


New  York: 
Harper  Brothers. 


THE  LEAVENWORTH   SCHOOL. 


BY  CHARLES 


WHILE  West  Point  is  the 
cadet  school  of  the  army, 
and  each  year  sees  its 
graduating-  class  commis- 
sioned into  service,  it 
must  not  be  supposed  that  the  theoi*etical 
work  ends  here.  Referring-  to  this  very 
subject  in  liis  address  to  a  class  of  young 
officez's  just  completing  their  four  years' 
course  at  the  academy,  a  distinguished 
soldier  warned  them  that  while  they  might 
be  considered  to  have  finished  their  pre- 
liminai'y  instruction,  their  education  was 
now  just  about  to  begin. 

Of  course  it  was  true,  said  the  young- 
gentlemen,  as  they  stowed  away  their 
long-coveted  diplomas;  that  is,  so  far  as 
the  scientific  branches  of  the  fighting 
force — the  engineers,  ordnance,  and  artil- 
lery— are  concerned.  Certainly  their  of- 
ficers have  much  to  study  and  much  to 
learn,  or  they  fall  behind  in  the  profes- 
sional race.  They  have  schools  of  in- 
struction and  application,  the  engineers 


KING,  U.S.A. 

at  Willet's  Point,  the  artil- 
lei*y  at  Old  Point  Com- 
fort, but  just  how  that  re- 
mark was  to  apply  to  the 
bulk  of  the  graduates,  to 
the  young  soldiers  join- 
ing the  cavalry  and  in- 
fantry regiments  out  on 
"the  plains,"  was  some- 
thing- they  did  not  so 
clearly  see. 

The  time  was,  in  the 
very  recent  past,  when 
the  officers  of  the  line  of 
the  army  had  little  leisure 
and  less  opportunity  for 
book  study.  It  is  a  pet 
theoi'y  of  civilian  censors 
that  army  life  is  one  of  in- 
dolence and  lack  of  occu- 
pation ;  but  it  is  safe  to 
say  that  such  critics  know 
nothing  of  the  service 
west  of  the  Missouri  as  it 
is  to-day,  and  still  less  of 
what  it  was  in  the  ten  or 
fifteen  years  that  imme- 
diately followed  our  civil 
war.  Here  and  thei*e  over 
the  broad  frontier  wei-e 
scattered  little  detach- 
ments of  foot  or  horse, 
often  a  mere  company  at  a  given  point, 
guarding  some  party  of  engineers  or  sur- 
veyors, or  watching  the  movements  of  a 
horde  of  savages  who  seemed  thirsting 
for  a  pretext  on  which  to  break  their 
pledges  to  the  government  and  to  lash 
out  upon  the  war-path.  Those  were  days 
of  isolation  and  hardship,  whose  monot- 
ony was  mended  only  by  a  remedy  that, 
in  view  of  its  fatal  results,  was  often 
worse  than  tlie  malady;  but  Indian  fight- 
ing was  all  the  diversion  that  circum- 
stances permitted,  and  every  officer  and 
man  was  studying  his  trade  practically 
and  in  face  of  the  foe.  There  is  no  place 
here  for  dissertation  on  the  subject,  but 
the  fact  remains  that  west  of  the  Missouri 
no  rod  of  road  was  surveyed,  no  rood  of 
land  was  tilled,  until  swept  by  the  rifles 
of  "the  regulai'S."  And  as  for  the  great 
railways  that  now  span  the  continent, 
and  have  brought  the  very  wilderness 
under  tribute,  the  mile-po.'?ts  of  their  long- 
est are  not  enough  in  number  to  score  the 


778 


HARPER'S  NEW  MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


lives  of  our  officers  and  men  laid  down  in 
Indian  battle  durifig  the  years  it  took  to 
build  them.  For  the  nation  they  were 
yeai'S  of  slumberous  peace,  and  very  little 
was  known  or  cared  about  what  was  go- 
ing on  "out  West."  And  the  nation 
would  doubtless  be  greatly  surprised  to 
hear  how  many  hundred  gallant  lives 
were  sacrificed  in  the  ten  years  that  suc- 
ceeded the  war  of  the  rebellion,  and  how 
many  hundred  officers  and  men  bear  upon 
their  bodies  this  day  the  scars  of  Indian 
arrow  or  deadlier  bullet. 

As  road  after  road  was  built,  however, 
and  the  various  tribes  were  subjected  or 
placated,  as  happened  to  be  the  policy  of 
the  Interior  Department  at  the  time,  the 
troops  were  called  in  from  outlying  camp 
and  scattered  bivouac.  Here  and  there 
over  the  wide  West  thei'e  sprang  up  big 
clusters  of  barn-like  structures,  arranged 
about  a  square  or  diamond-shaped  "  pa- 
rade," and  magnificently  tei'med  a  fort, 
in  defiance  of  its  structural  weakness  and 
the  fact  that  the  pluck  of  the  gai'rison 
was  its  only  parapet.  Neither  were  they 
ornamental,  these  military  caravansaries; 
but  all  the  same  under  their  ugly  wing 
all  manner  of  little  settlements  nestled  for 
shelter,  waxed  strong  and  poi^ulous,  and 
then,  when  they  had  become  self-reliant 
in  their  populace  and  covetous  of  adjoin- 
ing lands,  did  we  not  hear  their  repi'e- 
sentatives  in  Congress  assembled,  for 
whom  our  chaplain  hebdomadally  prayed, 
and  we,  as  in  duty  bound,  responded 
"Amen!" — did  we  not  hear  these  oi-ators 
and  statesmen  denouncing  us  as  a  "  men- 
ace to  the  liberties  of  the  people,"  and  de- 
manding that  we  be  ordered  elsewhere, 
and  our  reservation  be  thrown  open  for 
settlement?  Many  a  frontier  fortress, 
built  at  fabulous  expense  to  Uncle  Sam, 
and  correspondent  profit  to  the  conti'act- 
ors,  has  in  this  way  outlived  its  useful- 
ness, and  seen  its  blades  beaten  into  prun- 
ing-hooks  and  its  sheltering  barracks 
into  kindling-wood  for  its  quondam  pro- 
teges. Many  a  name  that  recalls  the 
stirring  days  along  the  old  "Smoky  Hill 
Route,"  and  fierce  battle  with  Sioux,  Chey- 
enne, and  Arrapahoe,  has  faded  from  the 
records;  and  bustling  towns  have  sprung 
up  around  the  site  where  Harker,  Lar- 
ned,  Zarah,  Wallace,  and  McPherson 
once  were  only  frontier  forts,  but  ' '  mon- 
arch of  all  they  surveyed." 

But  besides  these  ramshackle  tene- 
ments, that  must  have  cost  at  the  rate  of 


a  dollar  a  shingle,  the  government  own- 
ed some  fine  reservations,  with  solid  and 
unpicturesque  "  quarters"  of  brick  or 
stone,  and  two  of  these  were  in  the  thriv- 
ing State  of  Kansas.  One  after  another 
the  nation  gave  up  its  claim  on  the  va- 
rious military  posts  in  favor  of  this  young 
sister,  as  she  strode  from  hindermost  to 
head  of  the  wheat-producing  common- 
wealths, but  held  on  to  two  or  three 
which  were  of  strategic  importance,  and 
during  the  administration  of  General 
Sherman  at  the  head  of  the  army  the 
largest  and  finest  of  these  became  the 
seat  of  a  new  army  school. 

It  was  rather  a  problem,  the  establish- 
ment of  that  school.  We  had  maintain- 
ed, as  has  been  said,  something  of  the 
kind  for  the  benefit  of  the  engineers,  and 
an  artillery  school  at  Fortress  Monroe  for 
the  finishing  touches  to  be  given  our 
gunners;  but  here  came  a  proposition  to 
found  a  school  for  the  instruction  of  the 
officers  of  the  cavalry  and  infantry  arms. 
Its  origin  seems  as  vague  as  the  instruc- 
tions to  its  first  commanders.  General 
Pojje,  who  had  long  been  at  the  head  of 
the  "  Department  of  the  Missouri,"  is  said 
to  have  conceived  the  idea  of  having  an 
entire  regiment  of  infantry  or  cavalry 
garrisoned  at  one  big  post  and  taught 
practically  all  manner  of  military  know- 
ledge that  would  be  useful  in  the  field, 
each  regiment  in  the  department  to  come 
in  turn;  but  at  the  head-quarters  of  the 
army  it  was  decided  to  found  a  school 
both  practical  and  theoretical  for  the  ben- 
efit of  the  officers  of  "  the  line,"  and  rath- 
er to  the  disgust  of  the  first  batch  of 
presumable  beneficiaries,  the  experiment 
came  to  a  head  in  1881. 

Pupils  there  were  in  plenty,  since  the 
whole  army  list  lay  open,  but  professors 
were  lacking;  so  were  text-books,  maps, 
models,  apparatus,  desks,  chalk,  black- 
boards, stoves  and  fuel,  and  the  dozens 
of  things  a  school  must  have  before  it  is 
equipped  for  work.  The  General  of  the 
Army  was  a  man  whom  obstacles,  as  we 
all  know,  only  inspired,  and  he  brushed 
this  aside,  as  he  had  greater  ones,  with 
the  simple  mandate,  "Go  and  do  it— any- 
how." 

Of  the  early  history  of  the  school,  per- 
haps the  least  said,  the  soonest  mended. 
The  organizers  chose  a  curriculum  which 
was  interesting  as  an  experiment,  but  had 
faint  attractions  for  the  bulk  of  the  pu- 
pils.    Many  of  the  students  of  the  origi- 


THE  LEAVENWORTH  SCHOOL. 


779 


nal  detail  were  men  wlio  had  enjoyed  no 
advantages  of  early  education,  and  had 
long  since  become  resigned  to  the  pros- 
pect   of   worrying    along    without    one. 


service  without  the  faintest  conception  of 
Sturm's  Theorem,  or  caring  a  Continen- 
tal wlio  signed  the  Magna  Charta.  It  is 
to  the  credit  of  the  service  that  while  both 


'f^:-- 


FROM  "  Sheridan's  ride"  on 

THE    BLUFFS. 


Appointees  from  the  ranks  or  from 
civil  life  being  largely  predominant 
among  them,  it  was  decided  by  the 
authorities    tliat    arithmetic,   gram- 
mar, geography,  history,  etc.,  were  indis- 
pensable to  their  higher  comprehension 
of  tlie  military  art,  and  were  concerned 
to   discover  that  there   were   not  a   few 
veterans    among    their    stalwart    pupils 
who  had  managed  to  survive  through  a 
devastating   war    and   years    of   frontier 


teachei'S  and  pupils  had  many  doubts  as 
to  whether  the  curriculum  were  really  of 
lasting  benefit,  most  of  their  number  went 
to  woi'k  with  a  will  and  did  their  best; 
and  as  for  the  backsliders,  it  was  not  the 
fact  that  they  had  to  study  and  recite  that 
troubled  them,  so  much  as  the  conviction 


780 


HARPER'S  NEW  MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


that  they  were  burning  the  midnight  oil 
in  cramming  solid  pages  of  wisdom  that 
might  have  been  digested  earlier  in  life, 
but  wei'e  provocative  of  a  mental  dyspep- 
sia now. 

There  Avas  something  very  alluring 
about  this  proposed  school  down  there 
in  that  beautiful  wooded  bluff  country 
around  Fort  Leavenworth.  Visions  of 
manoeuvres  of  large  bodies  of  horse  and 
foot ;  of  brigade  drills ;  campaign  march- 
es; field  reconnoissances;  and  surveying; 
planning  of  earthworks,  siege  approach- 
es, and  mines;  pontoon  and  trestle  build- 
ing; experiments  with  modern  arms  and 
systems  of  tactics ;  comparisons  of  the  va- 
rious European  formations;  study  of  the 
European  manege  and  its  possible  ap- 
plication to  our  x^lains  and  mountains; 
lectures  on  the  great  campaigns  of  his- 
tory; interesting  problems  in  minor  tac- 
tics; grand  guards,  outposts;  jiartisan 
and  picket  service — these  and  others  of 
like  calibre  were  conjured  up  as  among 
the  possibilities ;  but  the  dream  was  soon 
shattered.  The  student  officer  came  down 
from  the  heights  of  a  visionary  Parnassus 
to  grai^ple  with Hagar's  Arithmetic.  Those 
"who  had  acquired  a  certain  education  in 
earlier  life  were  spared  this  reversion  to 
the  days  of  their  "teens,"  and  given  a 
course  in  Military  and  International  Law, 
the  "Operations  of  War,"  Field  Fortifi- 
cations and  Outposts;  but  one-half  their 
number  went  back  to  the  pursuits  of  ear- 
ly youth.  The  authorities  had  magnil- 
oquently  styled  the  new  establishment 
the  "School  of  Application  for  Infantry 
and  Cavalry,"  the  War  Department 
stripped  off  a  shade  or  two,  and  called  it 
the  "United  States  Infantry  and  Cavalry 
School,"  but  the  irreverent  and  unwilling 
pupil  derisively  dubbed  it  the  "Kinder- 
garten." 

"Give  a  dog  a  bad  name,"  and  you 
know  the  result.  The  school  had  one  at 
the  outset,  and  there  followed  a  period  of 
hard  pulling — ^both  ways.  But  the  pow- 
ers were  unmoved  from  their  stern  pur- 
pose: the  school  went  on;  so  did  the  pu- 
pils; and  by-and-by  it  became  a  fixture; 
and  now  it  is  a  fact,  but  a  very  different 
thing  from  what  it  was  six  years  agone. 
Through  much  tribulation  and  vexation 
of  spirit  it  has  passed  the  experimental 
stage,  and  come  forward  a  claimant  for 
honors. 

On  the  right  bank  of  the  big  Missouri, 
only  a  few  miles  above  the  sudden  and 


final  eastward  bend,  is  the  old  town  of 
Leavenworth,  once  prodigally  hopeful, 
but  now  left  in  the  lurch  by  luckier  towns 
along  the  trunk  lines  "'cross  continent"; 
and  just  a  long  rifle-shot  away  from  its 
northern  skirts  there  rises  from  the  riv- 
er a  range  of  beautifully  wooded  bluffs. 
There,  several  years  before  the  war,  was 
built  the  old  frontier  station  of  Fort 
Leavenworth,  and  now  it  is  the  most 
populous  military  township  in  the  coun- 
try, the  seat  of  the  once  anathematized 
"School  of  Application."  It  is  well 
worth  a  visit  at  any  season  of  the  year, 
despite  the  heat  of  midsummer,  but  is 
never  so  attractive  as  in  May  and  early 
June. 

The  massive  buildings  of  the  old  pei'ma- 
nent  post  are  nearly  hidden  by  the  foliage. 
As  we  enter  the  main  gate  the  slopes  to 
the  right  are  crowned  by  the  walls  of  the 
once  formidable  arsenal  and  its  out-build- 
ings, now  used  as  the  head-quarters  of  the 
Department  of  the  Missouri.  North  of 
these,  on  the  ridge  between  us  and  the 
river  bluffs,  are  the  commodious  and 
broad -verandaed  homes  of  the  general 
commanding  the  department  and  the  of- 
ficers of  his  staff ;  and  then  straight  ahead 
there  opens  out  before  us  a  broad  quad- 
rangle, carpeted  with  a  rich,  soft,  vivid 
green,  bordered  by  stately  elms,  and 
shaded  here  and  there  by  beautiful  clus- 
ters of  grand  old  trees,  bounded  by  broad 
graded  roads,  and  hemmed  in  b.y  the  main 
buildings  of  the  school  itself.  This  is  the 
enclosure  of  old  Fort  Leavenworth. 

We  have  Qome  without  stop,  for  the 
strains  of  martial  music  and  the  distant 
glint  of  arms  tell  that  some  one  of  the 
ceremonies  of  the  day  is  taking  place,  and 
thanks  to  our  early  start  from  town,  we 
are  just  in  time  for  guard  mount.  The 
dew  is  not  yet  off  the  grass,  the  birds  are 
flitting  and  chii'ping  from  bougli  to  bough, 
sunshine  and  shadow  alternate  on  the 
beautiful  carpet  of  the  parade,  and  the 
band,  in  cool  summer  dress  and  white  hel- 
mets, pours  forth  rich,  ringing  melody  as 
the  "  details"  come  marching  out  from  the 
barrack  behind  the  western  trees. 

Except  for  these  barracks  and  one  long, 
austere,  prison-like  structure  on  the  east- 
ern front — the  abode  of  most  of  the  bach- 
elor officers — the  parade  is  surrounded  by 
roomy,  cozy,  bower-like  cottages,  all  cov- 
ered with  climbing  vines  and  hidden  by 
flowering  plants,  and  these  are  the  quar- 
ters of  the  colonel  commanding  the  school. 


o  ^^ 


Vol.  LXXVI.— No.  455.-65 


782 


HARPER^S   NEW  MONTHLY   MAGAZINE. 


and  of  the  senior  officers  of  tlie  corps  of 
instructors.  Early  as  is  the  hour,  there 
are  glimpses  here  and  there  of  graceful 
feminine  foi'ms  upon  the  verandas,  and 
where  these  are  seen  there  are  sure  to 
be  attendant  groups  of  martial  figures, 
generally  slender,  erect,  and  distinguished 
by  snugly  fitting  "  blouses"'  and  by  bright 
blue  trousers  whose  sides  are  decked  with 
broad  stripes  of  cool  white  or  glowing  yel- 
low. It  is  breakfast-time  all  over  the  gar- 
rison, and  women  whose  lives  have  been 
spent  within  sound  of  the  drum  are  not 
apt  to  leave  their  coli'ee  to  gaze  at  a  little 
display  they  can  see  any  day  in  the  year. 
Those  whom  Ave  see  among  the  vines  and 
flowers  of  the  porches,  or  strolling  along 
the  shaded  walks  with  their  attendant  es- 
corts, are  young  belles  from  elsewhere, 
visiting  relations  at  Leavenworth,  and 
taking  a  peep  at  army  life  that  may  result 
in  a  lasting  acquaintance  with  it,  unless 
all  signs  fail  in  such  di-y  weather  as  that 
of  a  Kansas  June.  Tlie  escorts  are,  of 
coux'se,  the  young  ''student  officers,"  mak- 
ing hay  while  the  sun  shines,  and  forget- 
ful, during  the  brief  half-hour  of  guard 
mounting,  of  the  sterner  work  that  must 
fill  up  the  day. 

Meantime,  however,  the  soldierly  cere- 
mony goes  on,  regardless  of  tlie  coquetry 
along  the  neighboring  vei-andas  or  the 
swarms  of  merrily  laughing  children  who 
are  chasing  along  the  borders  of  the  pa- 
rade. The  band  plays  a  spirited  Hunga- 
rian mazurka,  while  the  acting  adjutant 
and  the  officer  of  the  guard, both  students, 
are  making  their  inspection  of  the  statu- 
esque line  of  soldiei-y.  The  rifles  of  the 
infantry  and  the  carbines  of  the  dis- 
mounted troopers  are  carefully  overhaul- 
ed, and  every  item  of  attire  scrutinized. 
Then  follows  a  sparkling  waltz,  which 
sets  some  enthusiastic  couples  to  dancing 
behind  the  screening  vines  of  the  ijiazzas, 
but  is  powerless  to  move  a  muscle  of  the 
guard,  standing  solidly  at  "parade  rest," 
with  their  eyes  apparently  fixed  on  va- 
cancy. The  waltz  ceases,  and  then,  after 
the  "present"  to  the  officer  of  the  day, 
who  stands  in  solemn  grandeur  at  the 
northern  limit  of  the  grassy  lawn,  the  lit- 
tle detachment  wlieels  into  column,  and 
to  the  liveliest  marching  music  makes  the 
circuit  of  the  parade,  and  i)asses  in  review 
before  the  official  to  whose  guardianship 
the  destinies  of  the  garrison  are  confided 
for  the  next  twenty -four  hours.  The 
swords  of  the  officers  are  lowered  in  grace- 


ful salute,  the  drum-major  whirls  his  ba- 
ton and  wheels  his  bandsmen  out  of  col- 
umn, and  then,  duly  installed,  the  guai-d 
tramps  away  over  the  green  to  "take 
over"  the  property  and  prisoners  from  its 
predecessor. 

This,  however,  is  a  daily  feature  of  al- 
most every  post,  from  Preble  in  Maine  to 
the  Presidio  of  San  Francisco.  The  next 
scene  of  the  day  is  one  that  is  distinctive 
and  characteristic  of  the  school.  We  are 
in  the  midst  of  examination  week,  and 
the  subject  that  happens  to  come  foremost 
this  morning  is  Infantry  Tactics. 

On  the  second  floor  of  one  of  the  red 
brick  buildings  west  of  the  parade  is  a 
long,  well-lighted  room  whose  A^enetian 
windows  open  out  ixpon  a  broad  gallery. 
Arouml  three  sides  of  the  room,  opposite 
the  light,  is  a  raised  dais  and  a  continuous 
line  of  black-board.  On  the  window  side, 
with  their  backs  to  the  lig'ht,  are  the  ex- 
aminers and  sevei-al  members  of  the  Board 
of  Visitors.  All — the  board,  the  examin- 
ers, and  the  pupils — are  officers  of  the 
army  of  the  United  States,  and  sharp  at 
nine  o'clock  the  friendly,  laughing  chat 
suddenly  ceases,  and  the  first  name  is 
called.  The  secretarj^  of  the  school,  a 
tall,  distinguished-looking  cavalry  officer, 
hands  a  slip  of  paper  to  the  man  who  steps 
forward  from  the  doorway,  and  so  one 
after  another  a  dozen  subalterns  of  infan- 
try and  cavalrj%  some  youthful  and  alert, 
some  mature  in  years  and  grave  in  de- 
meanor, receive  their  problems,  and  go  to 
the  board  to  illustrate  by  drawings  and 
then  fully  describe  their  methods  of  solu- 
tion. 

While  they  are  at  work  it  is  well  to  look 
around  the  room,  for  there  are  men  here 
who  have  a  history.  The  senior  in  rank 
wears  upon  his  shoulder  the  silver  star 
of  a  brigadier-general.  He  is  a  man  of 
marked  soldierly  bearing,  with  clear,  pene- 
trating eyes  and  clean-cut  features.  His 
face  is  closely  shaved  ])ut  for  the  bristling 
reddish  mustache,  and  as  lie  stands  by  the 
window  chatting  in  low  tones  with  the 
commandant  of  the  school  he  looks  what 
he  is,  the  very  type  of  the  American  of- 
ficei*.  One  of  the  "star  five"  of  his  class 
at  West  Point,  commander  of  one  of  the 
best  and  bravest  of  volunteer  regiments 
at  the  outbreak  of  the  war,  winning  the 
double  stars  of  a  major-genei-al  in  that 
stubborn  conflict,  and  the  eagles  of  a  col- 
onel in  the  regular  service,  he  is  one  of 
the  younger  brigadiers  of  the  army  to-day ; 


THE  LEAVENWORTH  SCHOOL. 


783 


aLEXANDEU    McJ)     .McC'I>OK,  C'OMMANDAM. 


and  his  next  important  duty  after  the  re- 
vision of  the  course  of  instruction  at  the 
school  is  something  of  far  different  and 
more  stii^ring  kind — tlie  suppression  of  a 
dangerous  Indian  revolt  in  the  far  North- 
west, and  it  is  handled  as  well  and  as 
summarily.  When  Sword-Bearer, the  chief 
of  the  malcontents,  falls  pierced  with  the 
bullets  of  the  cavalry  cai-bines,  his  follow- 
ers lose  heai't,  and  the  outbreak  is  stifled 
in  a  day. 

The  commandant  is  another  man  with 
a  history.  Pei'haps  he  is  the  more  widely 
known  of  the  two,  for  he  comes  of  a  stock 
that  is  famous  for  its  soldiers,  and  he 
bears  a  name  that  all  Americans  honor. 
Stoutly  built,  with  keen  blue  eyes  and 
florid  complexion,  sturdy  and  stocky  as  a 
Jersey  bull,  and  with  not  a  little  of  that 
taurine's   pugnacity   and    determination. 


the  commandant  is  a  man  whose  whole 
being  is  wrapped  up  in  his  profession, 
and  who  is  emphatically  a  soldier.  Fa- 
mous as  a  division  and  corps  commander 
in  those  early  days  of  the  war  when  ill- 
luck  seemed  to  cling  to  every  man  who 
I'ose  so  suddenly,  he  has  spent  his  lifetime 
in  the  service,  and  knows  "from  a  to  iz- 
zard"  every  detail  of  a  soldier's  needs.  It 
is  to  him  that  the  great  changes  that  have 
come  over  the  school  are  mainly  due,  and 
to  his  persistence  that  the  course  has  be- 
come what  it  is — a  practical  scheme  for 
the  instruction  of  the  line  officers  of  the 
army.  To  this  object,  as  to  the  disci- 
pline of  the  school,  he  has  given  untiring 
energy  and  his  best  efforts,  and  as  a  man 
fitted  to  carry  out  his  views,  his  looks  do 
not  belie  him. 

Alonjr  the  tables  in  front  of  the  Board 


784 


HARPER'S   NEW   MONTHLY   MAGAZINE. 


of  Examiners  are  a  number  of  sheets  of 
drawing-paper,  on  each  side  of  which  is 
delineated — on  some  in  colors,  on  others 
in  ink — a  map  of  Fort  Leavenworth  with 
the  counti'y  to  the  north  and  northwest. 
Every  road,  every  bridge,  ford,  stream, 
and  bridle-path,  every  building,  every 
height,  wood,  thicket,  field,  melon  patch, 
or  orcliard,  is  fully  indicated,  though  with 
more  or  less  artistic  skill ;  and  each  mem- 
ber of  the  class  is  required  to  show  what 
disposition  he  would  make  of  a  force  of 
thirty  thousand  men— infantry,  cavalry, 
and  artillery,  in  proper  proportion— to 
defend  that  position  of  Fort  Leavenworth 
from  the  attack  of  superior  forces  known 
to  be  advancing  from  the  north.  It  is 
a  good  test,  and  one  that  calls  for  a 
knowledge  of  the  powers  of  the  three 
arms  of  the  service  and  many  of  the 
principles  of  modern  warfare.  It  calls 
forth  much  individuality  too,  for  an  exam- 
ination of  the  plans  shows  that  in  many 
details  there  is  wide  ditference  of  opinion 
as  to  the  proper  placing  of  portions  of 
the  force.  They  are  unanimous  in  one 
thing,  however.  Tliere  is  a  broad  open 
valley  on  the  north,  "  covered"  by  the 
wooded  heights  in  rear  of  the  post,  and 
commanded  by  all  the  ground  to  the 
south.  Tliere  is  not  a  man  apparently 
wlio  does  not  so  dispose  his  main  line  as 
to  compel  the  enemy  to  attempt  the  cross- 
ing of  tliat  valley  under  the  continuous 
fire  of  the  defence,  and  in  almost  every 
case  the  embankment  of  the  narrow-gauge 
railway  is  used  to  excellent  advantage. 
All  this  is  to  test  their  knowledge  of  high- 
er tactical  combinations.  Tlie  subjects  on 
the  board  are  problems  in  minor  tactics. 
In  its  general  character  the  task  of  one 
officer  is  similar  to  those  of  all  the  others, 
and  any  one  will  answer  as  a  specimen. 
The  young  lieutenant  now  explaining  his 
woi'k  has  been  required  to  throw  a  bat- 
talion of  eight  companies  of  infantry  into 
double  column;  then  form  line  of  battle 
on  the  riglit  flank  by  two  movements; 
then  to  "ploy"  into  close  column  by  divi- 
sion, on  first  division,  left  in  front;  then 
to  change  direction  by  the  right  flank; 
and  finally,  after  deploying  once  more 
into  line  of  battle,  to  place  tlie  battalion 
in  its  original  position.  His  chalk  sketch 
illustrates  the  various  combinations;  he 
gives  in  full  every  command  of  the  col- 
onel and  those  of  the  captains,  and  explains 
in  detail  just  how  each  movement  must 
be  executed.      It   is  not  enough  that  he 


tell  w^hat  the  duties  of  one  officer  may  be : 
he  must  be  able  to  instantly  take  the  place 
of  any  of  them,  from  colonel  down,  and 
to  show  any  man  in  the  command  just 
where  he  should  go,  how  he  should  get 
there,  and  what  he  must  do  on  reaching 
the  spot.  He  must  know  to  an  inch  the 
position  of  every  officer,  every  guide,  file- 
closer,  or  private  soldier,  and  be  able  to 
stand  a  cross-fii*e  of  questioning;  for,  one 
after  another,  the  whole  board  may  "  take 
a  shy"  at  him.  It  is  the  same  with  every 
study  theoretically  pui'sued  at  the  school, 
and  there  was  similar  thoroughness  in  the 
days  of  its  greatest  unpopularity.  Wheth- 
er the  old  course  was  well  chosen  or  not 
was  a  matter  the  instructors  wei'e  not 
expected  to  publicly  discuss.  Their  duty 
was  to  teach  as  thoroughly  as  they  could, 
and  by  rigid  examination  assure  them- 
selves that  their  pupils  either  did  or  did 
not  study.  There  were  some  few  men 
whom  they  could  not  teach,  perhaps ;  but 
there  were  more  whose  kiiowledge  they 
could  not  and  did  not  accurately  gauge. 

But  it  is  not  in  the  examination  halls 
that  the  casual  visitor  will  be  most  inter- 
ested. What  he  or  she  may  prefer  most 
naturally  to  see  are  the  military  exercises 
in  the  open  air,  and  no  post  in  the  army 
can  present  so  attractive  a  variety  as 
Leavenworth. 

Projecting  westward  from  the  old  quad- 
rangle, or  east  parade,  is  a  roadway  lined 
on  the  north  side  by  brick  barracks  and 
offices  for  a  few  hundred  yards,  and  then 
by  a  long  I'ow  of  cottages  occupied  by  the 
officei's  of  the  garrison  and  their  families. 
All  this  section  of  the  post  is  termed  the 
"West  End,"  and  is  quite  a  little  com- 
munity in  itself.  Directly  in  front  of  the 
officers'  quarters,  and  across  the  road,  is  a 
bi'oad,  open  field  stretching  away  south- 
ward, and  here,  for  the  present,  at  least, 
are  held  all  the  mounted  drills  and  exer- 
cises, and  those  ceremonies  of  parade  in 
which  the  cavalry  and  the  light  battei*y 
act  in  conjunction  with  the  infantry. 
The  drill  of  a  battery,  with  its  plunging 
horses  and  booming  guns  and  quick, 
dashing  evolutions,  is  alwa3'S  a  stirring 
sight,  while  the  hoarse  shouted  com- 
mands and  pealing  bugle  calls  make  the 
welkin  ring  even  wlien  the  guns  are  si- 
lent. But  one  may  see  at  Leavenworth 
something  new  to  even  veteran  light  ar- 
tillerists— a  perfect  battery  drill  without 
bugle  note  or  whisper  of  command.  True, 
it  was  one  of  the  finest  batteries  in  all 


>1 


i> 


786 


HARPER'S   NEW   MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


America  that  accomplished  the  feat  dur- 
ing tlie  late  examination  Aveek,  but  it 
went  through  it  all  with  an  ease  and  fin- 
ish as  though  the  very  horses  had  put 
their  heads  together  beforehand  and  de- 
cided just  what  should  be  done.  Fancy 
eight  matched  teams  of  glossy  bays — four 
horses  to  the  team  —  each  "near"  horse 
mounted  by  a  rider  who  controlled  the 
movements  of  his  mate,  the  "off"  horse; 
each  team  hitched  to  its  battery  carriage, 
whether  gun  or  caisson ;  each  carriage 
bearing  its  quota  of  cannoneers  sitting 
erect  with  folded  arms,  and  the  long  red 
plumes  of  their  helmets  streaming  in  the 
wind  as  the  guns  bounded  over  the 
springy  turf;  and  fancy  the  whole  com- 
plicated machine  moving  in  perfect  unison 
this  way,  that  way,  every  way,  wheeling, 
reversing,  or  countermarching,  at  walk, 
trot,  or  mad  gallop,  and  not  a  word  spo- 
ken or  sound  heard  beyond  the  rumble 
of  twoscore  wheels  or  muffled  thunder  of 
tenscoi'e  hoofs.  It  was  all  simple  enough : 
every  eye  in  the  battery  was  on  the  sin- 
ewy figure  of  the  tall  captain,  who  rode 
well  out  to  the  front,  sabre  in  hand,  and 
every  signal,  point,  cut,  or  thrust  of  that 
shining  blade  had  a  significance  never 
dreamed  of  by  the  authors  of  the  tactics. 

And  by  long  odds  the  finest  sight  at 
Leavenworth  is  the  review  of  the  entire 
command  out  at  the  West  End.  Tlie 
vallej'  of  the  Missouri  lies  open  to  the 
southward  for  miles  beyond  the  shining 
roofs  and  spires  of  the  town.  The  build- 
ings of  the  post  gleam  on  the  grassy  slopes 
to  the  eastward  beyond  the  nitervening 
tenements,  and  the  horizon  to  the  west- 
ward is  hidden  by  the  long  line  of  pic- 
turesque and  wooded  heights,  while  the 
broad  area  of  the  drill-ground  lies  in  the 
foreground,  sloping  gently  away  toward 
the  town.  Here,  early  in  the  summer 
morning,  while  the  leaves  are  still  drip- 
ping witli  dew  and  the  grass  is  all  a-spar- 
kle,  Avhile  the  sun  is  still  low  in  the  east- 
ern .sky,  and  throwing  long  shadows  over 
the  valley,  the  whole  command  is  ordered 
to  assemble,  and  before  tlieir  standards 
come  in  sight  the  shaded  walks  are  throng- 
ed with  ladies,  and  the  i)iazzas  of  the  West 
End  are  thrown  lio.siiitabh'  open  to  all 
visitors,  for,  despite  the  early  hour,  all 
Leaven wortli  .seems  awake.  Here  and 
there  in  front  of  the  quarters  are  mount- 
ed orderlies  witli  the  officers'  lior.ses,  and 
man  after  man  these  dignitaries  come 
forth  from  their  domain  plumed,  gaunt- 


leted,  booted,  and  spurred,  swing  into 
saddle,  and  trot  away  to  join  their  com- 
mands in  knightly  fashion,  while  their 
comrades  of  the  infantry  elbow  their  way 
to  their  posts  of  duty  through  the  groups 
upon  the  sidewalk. 

The  baud,  in  its  white  plumes  and  fa- 
ciiigs,  strides  out  through  the  dew  to  its 
place  on  the  right  of  the  coming  line; 
then,  far  down  the  road  toward  the  main 
garrison,  the  notes  of  a  bugle  are  heard, 
and  the  eye  roams  over  a  long,  moving 
lane  of  light  and  contrasting  color.  First 
comes  the  compact  column  of  infantry, 
tramping  sturdily  toward  us,  and  looking 
very  soldierh^  in  the  spiked  helmets  and 
tasteful  dark  blue  tunics.  Tlie  silken  ban- 
ners wave  over  a  small  battalion,  to  be  sure, 
but  it  is  one  that  looks  full  of  mettle,  and 
is  made  up  of  chosen  companies  from  dif- 
ferent regiments.  Behind  them  come  the 
crimson  guidon  and  waving  plumes  of 
the  battery — horses,  guns,  wheels,  linch- 
pins and  washers,  buckles,  straps,  hames, 
bits,  bossings,  belts,  and  buttons,  all  glis- 
tening with  the  polish  of  skilful  hands; 
and  behind  them  all,  the  swallow-tailed 
pennons  of  scarlet  and  white,  the  stand- 
ard of  3'ellow  silk,  and  the  long  column 
of  yellow  plumes  reveal  the  battalion  of 
cavalry.  You  cannot  fail  to  note  the 
erect,  yet  easy,  confident  pose  of  every  offi- 
cer and  man  as  the  riders  go  filing  b}-. 
Tlie  dress  and  horse  equipments  of  our 
mounted  troops  have  little  of  the  glitter 
and  coquetry  of  the  hussar  or  lancer  of 
Europe;  they  are  even  sombre  by  com- 
parison; but  ours  is  eminently  practical, 
and  stands  the  test  of  the  rough  service  of 
the  frontier,  wliich  theirs  would  not;  and 
as  to  the  relative  merits  of  the  schools  of 
liorseinanship,  there  is  little  doubt  that 
for  "all-round"  military  work  the  Amer- 
ican will  outlast  aiu'  of  the  foreign  sys- 
tems,  and  is  far  more  soldierh'  and  grace- 
ful in  effect  besides. 

Troop  after  troop  the  cavalry  jingle 
along,  turning  down  to  the  left  in  rear  of 
the  forming  line  of  footmen;  and  one 
troop — the  standard  troop — is  made  up  en- 
tirely of  colored  men.  The  darkies  ride 
quite  as  jauntily  as  their  white  comrades, 
and  probably  to  the  full  as  firmly  and 
well;  while  in  precision  of  movement 
and  accuracy  of  alignment,  "touch,"  and 
gait,  there  is  more  than  one  military  spec- 
tator who  seems  to  think  their  work  su- 
perior to  that  of  the  rest  of  the  battalion. 
An  officer  of  the  school  explains  this  by 


ON    TEIE    CAVALRY    DRII.L-GKOUND. 


788 


HAEPER'S   NEW  MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


saying:  "The  darky  is  always  on  dress 
parade.  The  moment  he  gets  into  uni- 
form he  thinks  tlie  eyes  of  all  men  are 
upon  him,  and  he  '  braces  up,'  and  makes 
the  most  of  his  opportunity.  Those  other 
fellows,  in  'I'  and  '  M'  troops,  for  instance, 
are  riding  at  ease.  They  will  stitfen  when 
they  come  into  line." 

One  after  another  they  move  out  upon 
the  field,  facing  west,  the  infantry  on  the 
right  and  nearest  us ;  then  the  battery,  in 
two  lines,  its  guu-carriages  to  the  front; 
tlien  the  long  single  rank  of  the  cavalry 
battalion,  stretching  to  the  far  southern 
edge  of  the  field.  Well  out  to  the  west,  in 
front  of  the  centre,  is  the  commanding  of- 
ficer with  his  staff,  and  presently,  as  the 
white-plumed  adjutant  gallops  down  the 
line,  turns  toward  liis  chief  on  reaching 
the  centre,  then  halts  and  reins  about, 
there  is  a  simultaneous  crash  as  arms  are 
presented,  and  a  long  line  of  steel — the 
sabres  of  the  cavalry — springs  into  air. 
Then  review  order  is  taken,  ranks  are 
opened,  the  battery  unlimbers  and  whirls 
its  black-muzzled  guns  to  the  front;  an- 
other present  of  the  line  to  the  exalted 
personage  who  i-eceives  the  review,  and  is 
hailed  with  a  flourish  of  trumpets  and  the 
simultaneous  droop  of  all  the  standards; 
another  movement,  and  the  line  becomes 
an  open  column;  another  command,  and 
with  a  triumphant  burst  of  music  from 
the  band  the  whole  array  moves  as  one 
man:  the  passage  in  review  has  begun. 
In  quick  time,  the  band  leading,  they 
come  jauntily  towai'd  us,  changing  direc- 
tion at  the  upper  corner,  and  swinging 
past  the  animated  groups  of  spectators. 
Front  after  front  the  stui-dy  infantry 
trudges  by,  the  student  officers  hidden  as 
file-closers  behind  their  companies,  and 
wishing,  for  this  occasion  only,  that  they 
belonged  to  the  cavalry,  and  could  com- 
mand and  be  in  front  of  their  men  instead 
of  trailing  meekly  after  them,  as  required 
of  the  infantry  "sub."  Well  they  know 
that  they  cannot  by  any  human  possibil- 
ity look  half  so  picturesque  in  this  posi- 
tion as  their  rivals  and  contemporaries 
of  the  cavalry  on  their  "prancing  char- 
gers" and  in  front  of  their  platoons.  All 
the  same,  they  have  their  sympathetic  ad- 
mirers in  the  throng,  and  so  they  pass  us  by. 
And  then,  with  cham})ing  bits  and  tossing 
manes,  come  the  platoons  of  horse.  The 
battery  quickens  its  gait  on  the  marching 
flanks,  and  the  girls  wonder  how  those 
gunners  sit  so  straight  with  folded  arms. 


and  never  make  hysterical  grabs  at  the 
bars  or  at  each  other,  as  they  would  do 
under  like  circumstances.  The  cavalry 
too  come  around  at  a  trot,  the  young 
platoon  commanders  fully  alive  to  and 
making  the  most  of  their  golden  oi)portu- 
nity,  looking  vastly  martial,  and  striving 
not  to  look  as  though  they  very  Avell 
knew  just  where  "she"  happened  to  stand 
among  the  gi'oups  of  fair  ones  under  the 
shade  trees.  Down  the  long  field  goes 
the  glistening  column,  officer  after  officer 
saluting  as  he  passes  the  reviewing  point, 
and  then  the  infantry  reappears,  tramp- 
ing up  the  eastern  edge.  Like  some  per- 
fected machine,  the  long  ai-ray  wheels 
into  line  to  the  left,  the  ranks  are  dressed, 
then  brought  once  more  to  review  order. 
Again  the  trumpets  flourish,  tlie  stand- 
ards droop,  and  arms  clash  to  the  present. 
Then  conies  brief  rest  before  some  one  of 
the  three  commands  is  summoned  to  the 
front  to  show  what  it  can  do  in  the  ma- 
noeuvres of  its  particular  arm.  It  may 
be  a  stirring  skirmish  drill,  covering  the 
entire  valley,  by  the  bright-plumed  caval- 
ry. It  may  be  a  dashing  series  of  battery 
manoeuvres,  with  much  smoke,  noise,  and 
odor  unlimited  of  "the  villanous  salt- 
petre." It  may  be  rapid  evolutions  of  the 
foot  battalion ;  but  in  each  and  all  the  stu- 
dent officer  must  take  his  part. 

Thus  far  it  has  been  the  jjolicy  of  the 
school  to  educate  its  eleves  to  exercise 
command  in  any  one  of  the  three  fighting 
ai'ms  of  the  service,  and  for  some  time 
officers  of  infantiy  drilled  with  the  bat- 
tery or  the  cavalry,  and  vice  versa;  but 
on  pai-ade  the  student  officer  appears  with 
the  company  to  which  in  his  own  arm  he 
is  assigned  for  duty  during  his  two  years' 
probation  at  Leavenworth.  Just  as  at 
West  Point  some  private  of  the  gradu- 
ating class  has  been  called  out  of  ranks 
and  ordered  to  assume  command  of  the 
battalion  in  pre.sence  of  tlie  Board  of  Vis- 
itors, so  at  Leavenworth  the  permanent 
officers  are  often  withdrawn  and  their 
places  taken  by  the  students,  one  of  whom 
serves  as  commander,  another  as  adju- 
tant, and  half  a  dozen  as  captains.  The 
cavalry  battalion  is  put  through  its  paces 
by  a  mixed  assortment  of  subalterns  of 
either  wliite  or  yellow  facings,  and  the 
infantry  command  is  handled  by  a  lot  of 
young  troopers.  The  theory  is,  of  course, 
that  the  graduate  of  tlie  School  of  Appli- 
cation should  be  as  competent  to  instruct 
troops  of  any  arm  as  is  the  graduate  of 


tm^ 


"§^ 


roo 


HARPER'S  NEW  MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


West  Point,  and  certainly  the  former  has 
far  better  opportunities  for  practice. 

Just  here  it  may  as  well  be  explained 
that  while  no  reward,  beyond  the  con- 
sciousness of  duty  well  done,  has  thus  far 
attached  to  conspicuous  ability  at  the 
school,' neither  is  there  any  serious  con- 
sequence attendant  upon  failure.  "All 
sails  and  no  anchor."'  said  Macaulay  of 
our  Constitution,  and  with  better  reason 
it  may  be  said  of  tlie  designers  of  the 
School  of  Application  that  they  could  pre- 
scribe anything-  and  enforce  nothing-.  A 
■commission  once  gained  in  the  line  of  the 
army  is  its  possessor's  for  life  or  good  be- 
havior, and  he  may  turn  out  to  be  a  num- 
skull without  the  faintest  detriment  to  his 
prospects  of  promotion.  At  West  Point 
the  cadet  who  fails  to  j)ass  a  creditable  ex- 
amination every  six  months  is  discharged, 
and  relegated  to  civil  life.  At  Leaven- 
worth, as  at  Fortress  Monroe,  the  student 
could  pitch  his  books  into  the  fire,  and  face 
his  examiners  with  the  serene  conscious- 
ness that,  do  their  worst,  they  could  only 
send  him  back  to  his  regiment,  Avhei'e  he 
perchance  preferred  to  be.  That  in  nine 
cases  out  of  ten  the  detailed  officers  studied 
hard  and  did  their  best,  whether  they  liked 
tlie  course  or  not,  was  simply  due  to  the 
high  sense  of  professional  pride  and  sol- 
dierly duty  which  is  a  characteristic  of 
the  army.  It  was  more  in  grateful  recog- 
nition of  this  spirit  than  with  any  idea  of 
stimulating  the  few  laggards  to  greater 
exertion  tliat  the  staff  of  the  school  once 
hit  upon  a  brilliant  expedient  for  i-ewai-d- 
ing  merit.  Presumably  it  had  the  sanc- 
tion of  the  War  Department,  although 
the  astute  officials  of  that  establishment, 
versed  as  they  are  in  the  ways  of  Wash- 
ington, must  have  smiled  grimly  when 
they  gave  it.  In  July,  1883,  the  staff  pub- 
lished in  orders  its  list  of  graduates,  giv- 
ing the  relative  merit  and  standing  of  each 
-officer  in  the  various  studies  of  the  two 
years'  course,  and  concluded  with  the  an- 
nouncement of  a  selected  class,  who,  hav- 
ing ".shown  aptitude  for  comnumd  and 
position  in  the  stafi'  departments,  arc  rec- 
ommended for  professional  emplo^nnent."" 
Ten  were  named  as  suitable  aspirants  for 
the  Adjutant-General's  Dejiartment,  and 
when  vacancies  occurred  in  that  plum 
orchard  of  the  service,  as  vacancies  did 
occur,  it  is  possible  that  some  of  those  des- 
ignated youths  found  themselves  wonder- 
ing how  much  good  that  recommendation 
would  do  them.     It  is  safe  to  say  that. 


being  young  men  of  "  level  heads,"  no  one 
of  their  number  based  much  hope  of  pre- 
ferment upon  that  imposing  publication, 
and  it  goes  without  saying  that  the  vacan- 
cies in  the  Adjutant-General's  Department 
have  continued  to  be  filled  without  refer- 
ence to  the  opinions  of  the  School  of  Ap- 
plication. 

All  the  same,  the  staff  was  right,  and 
though  the  War  Department  itself  has 
not  been  re-enforced  from  the  school,  cer- 
tain regiments  of  the  line  and  the  Mili- 
tary Academy  at  West  Point  have  drawn 
their  adjutants  from  that  list,  to  their 
very  marked  advantage. 

With  a  view  to  possible  contingencies, 
twelve  of  the  same  class  were  named  as 
suitable  field  officers  of  volunteers.  More 
than  one  of  the  twelve  had  served  with 
State  troops  during  the  war.  and  twenty 
years  eai'lier  that  recommendation  would 
have  carried  weight.  What  man  can  say 
how  soon  it  may  not  be  of  value  in  the 
future  ? 

And  as  the  rewards  of  n\erit  under  a 
well-ordered  republic  are  never  such  as 
to  make  a  man  the  mark  of  envj^,  nei- 
ther are  its  punishments  of  the  awe-in- 
spiring nature  of  those  of  the  "effete 
monarchies."  Allusion  has  been  made 
to  the  fact  that  the  worst  that  could  be 
done  to  a  student  who  would  not  study 
was  to  send  him  back  to  his  regiment. 
Now  it  was  the  theory  of  the  incorpora- 
tors of  the  school  that  tlie  officers  ordered 
thither  should  be  young  men  with  pliant 
minds  and  a  desire  to  learn.  But,  said  the 
War  Department,  in  formulating  its  order 
in  the  case,  "The  subjects  for  the  school 
are  the  lieutenants  belonging  to  the  com- 
panies which  compose  the  garrison  and 
those  specially  detailed  from  the  regi- 
ments." The  garrison  was  announced  to 
"habitually  consist  of  three  field  officers 
of  cavalry  or  infantry,  with  not  less  than 
four  companies  of  infantry,  four  troops 
of  cavalry,  one  light  battery  of  artillery, 
and  the  officers  attached  for  instruction." 

This  is  practically  the  organization  in 
effect  to-day,  although  it  is  presumable 
that  a  separate  school  for  the  mounted 
service  will  soon  be  established  at  Fort 
Riley,  where  thei*e  is  broader  space  for 
the  evolutions  of  cavalry  and  light  artil- 
lery. With  this  organization  the  start 
was  made,  and  the  system  has  not  yet 
been  altered  in  any  important  feature. 
So  far  as  the  lieutenants  belonging  to  the 
garrison  companies  are  concerned,  there- 


THE  LEAVENWORTH  SCHOOL. 


791 


fore,  there  was  no  choice  at  all.     They     ]y  to   the  older  men,  and  coupled  with 
had  to  be  students,  no  matter  what  their     their  sense  of  indignity  was  the  convic- 
age,  acquirements,  or  previous  condition,     tion  that  there  was  no  law  which  could 
Where  the  latitude  came  in  was  iu  the     either  compel   them  to  study  or  punish 
selection  of  those  ''special- 
ly detailed   from   the   regi- 
ments."      There     are     ten 
regiments   of   cavalry    and 
twenty-five   of  infantry  in 
the    army,  and    each    regi- 
ment was  to  send  one  sub- 
altern,  who    should   be   se- 
lected by  the  commanding 
officer  thereof. 

This    left   the   matter   of 


filik 


•?*. 


-.■■j^j&:wm^^¥ 


I'M 


KIKI.E    PRACTICE. 

''subjects"  pretty  largely  to  the  inner 
consciousness  of  thirty-five  difPerent  regi- 
mental commanders.  "Many  men  have 
many  minds,"  and  very  many  different 
kinds  of  men  were  sent  there  as  a  result 
of  placing  in  so  many  hands  the  deter- 
mination of  the  kind  of  man  that  ought 
to  be  sent.  Where  one  colonel  would 
nominate  a  lieutenant  because  he  want- 
ed to  go,  anotlier  would  be  just  as  apt 
to  pitch  upon  a  fellow  who  had  de- 
cided objections,  thinking  it  might  be 
wholesome  discipline.  Another  would 
choose  some  young  bookworm  because 
school  was  his  proper  element;  another 
some  grizzled  veteran — and  we  have  many 
such — because  it  was  presumably  ' "  the  last 
chance  he'd  ever  have  of  learning  any- 
thing." There  were  not  a  few  cases  where 
the  detail  was  most  unwelcome,  especial- 


failure;  and  if  this  were  true  of  the  vet- 
eran, it  was  applicable  to  the  youngest 
"sub." 

Then,  again,  it  sometimes  happened  that 
married  officers  were  the  men  on  Avhom 
the  detail  fell,  and  there  were  hardly 
"quarters"  enough  for  the  bachelors,  let 
alone  those  blessed  with  wife  and  olive- 
branches,  and  all  manner  of  makeshifts 
were  the  result. 

But  life  at  Leavenworth  is  blither, 
brighter,  and  gifted  with  greater  zest  than 
at  many  and  many  a  post  in  our  scattered 
army.  To  many  of  the  students  the 
course  is  attractive,  and  now  that  it  has 
undergone  sweeping  revision,  there  is  no 
man  in  the  junior  grades  of  the  service 
whom  it  will  not  profit.  The  new  pro- 
gramme is  the  evolution  of  much  thought 
and  experience,  and  the  Board  of  Revision 
found  little  to  add  to  or  take  away  from 
the  scheme  as  laid  before  them.  In  two 
years  of  stud}',  with  daily  lectures,  recita- 
tions, and  practical  experiments,  the  stu- 
dent is  expected  to  complete  a  course  of 
Military  Art,  including  strategy,  tactics, 
and  study  of  campaigns  and  battles ;  law 
— militarv,    constitutional,    and    interna- 


792 


HARPER'S   NEW  MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


tional;  topography  and  surveying;  field 
fortifications ;  signalling ;  cavalry — includ- 
ing field  service,  equitation,  and  liippolo- 
gy;  infantry — camp  and  field  service;  ai'- 
tillery — with  limited  course  in  ordnance; 
and  finally,  military  hygiene  and  "early 
aid  to  the  wounded."  It  is  a  broad  ad- 
vance from  the  curriculum  of  the  early 
days,  and  the  "Kindergarten"  is  no  more. 
It  is  said  that  future  classes  will  be 
made  up  of  bachelors,  and  had  this  rule 
been  in  vogue  before,  even  the  abnormal 
precipitancy  of  the  army  lieutenant  in 
matters  matrimonial  would  have  been 
stimulated.  Now,  however,  it  has  become 
a  post  where  our  army  ladies  love  to  go, 
and  nowhere  does  social  life  seem  more 
pleasant.  Famous  were  the  Leavenworth 
theatricals  for  many  a  year,  and  beauti- 
ful ai'e  the  evening  "hojis"  and  parties 
now.  The  "cares  that  infest  the  day" 
seem  banished  with  tlie  setting  sun,  and 
all  the  garrison,  male  and  female,  appears 
in  force  and  finest  feathers  when  the  bu- 
gle sounds  the  signal  for  evening  pai-ade. 
This,  the  closing  cei'emony  of  the  day,  al- 


ways takes  place  dismounted,  and  on  the 
beautiful  curving  surface  of  the  green  in 
front  of  the  commanding  officer's.  The 
long  line  stretches  across  from  east  to 
west,  the  yellow  plumes  of  the  cavalry 
looking  like  a  hedge  of  golden -rod,  and 
every  young  soldier  at  the  school  is  there, 
while  the  paths  and  porches  that  sur- 
round are  alive  with  dainty  dresses  and 
brightest  color.  The  band  plays  its  best, 
and  when  parade  is  finally  dismissed,  and 
the  erect  figures  go  stalking  away  through 
the  trees,  there  is  a  brief  quarter-hour  of 
chat  and  interchange  of  gi'eeting,  and  then 
the  twilight  deepens,  and  lights  begin  to 
twinkle  here  and  there  amid  the  vines,  and 
the  voices  soften,  and  the  clink  of  scabbard 
and  beat  of  hoof  of  the  cavalry  x^atrol  are 
heai'd  across  the  broad  parade,  and  little 
wisps  of  vapor  begin  to  curl  in  the  distant 
hollows,  and  blacker  shadows  to  gather 
under  the  trees.  The  busy  day  is  done, 
silence  falls  on  the  wide  expanse  of 
"guarded  land,"  and  then,  far  out  on  the 
slopes  beyond,  is  heard  the  \veird,  wild 
plaint  of  the  whippoorwill. 


}J»^f:.     ,. 


Mil''"''  ■' 


SWEET   NELLY,  MY   HEART'S   DELIGHT. 


He.    Q WEET  Nelly,  my  heart's  delight, 
O  Be  loving,  and  do  not  slight 

The  proffer  I  make 

For  modesty's  sake. 
I  honor  your  beauty  bright; 

For  love  I  profess, 

I  can  do  no  less. 
Thou  hast  my  favor  won; 

And  since  I  see 

Your  modesty, 

I  pray  you  agree, 

And  fancy  me, 
Though  I'm  but  a  farmer's  son. 


She.  No;  I  am  a  lady  gay; 

It  is  very  well  known  I  may 
Have  men  of  renown 
In  country  or  town. 

So,  Roger,  without  delay 
Court  Bridget,  or  Sue, 
Kate,  Nancy,  or  Prue; 

Their  loves  will  soon  be  w^on ;. 
But  don't  you  dare 
To  speak  me  fair. 
As  if  I  were 
At  my  last  pray'r 

To  marry  a  farmer's  son. 


pROM  THE  Ranks, 


A    NOVEL. 


BY 

CAPTAIN   CHARLES  KING, 

AUTHOR   OF 
"THE    colonel's    DAUGHTER,"     "THE    DESERTER,"    "MARION'S    FAITH," 

"kitty's  conquest,"  etc. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY, 


Copyright,  1887,  by  J.  B.  Lippincott  Company. 


IISrfcl^^lOTYPERSAMDI-^l■".^;TERSIIIl^ 

>ai>^---_ — /iV •> 


LIPPINCOTT'S 
\/JONTHLY   ]y[AGAZINE. 


DECEMBER,    188  7. 


FROM  THE  RANKS. 


I. 

A  STRANGE  thing  had  happened  at  the  old  fort  during  the  still 
watches  of  the  night.  Even  now,  at  nine  in  the  morning,  no 
one  seemed  to  be  in  possession  of  the  exact  circumstances.  Tlie  officer 
of  the  day  was  engaged  in  an  investigation,  and  all  that  appeared  to  be 
generally  known  was  the  bald  statement  that  the  sentry  on  "  Number 
Five"  had  fired  at  somebody  or  other  about  half  after  three ;  that  he 
had  fired  by  order  of  the  officer  of  the  day,  who  was  on  his  post  at 
the  time ;  and  that  now  he  flatly  refused  to  talk  about  the  matter. 

Garrison  curiosity,  it  is  perhaps  needless  to  say,  was  ratlier  stimu- 
lated than  lulled  by  this  announcement.  An  unusual  number  of  officers 
were  chatting  about  head-quarters  when  Colonel  Maynard  came  over  to 
his  office.  Several  ladies,  too,  who  had  hitherto  shown  but  languid 
interest  in  the  morning  music  of  the  band,  had  taken  the  trouble  to 
stroll  down  to  the  old  quadrangle,  ostensibly  to  see  guard-mounting. 
Mrs.  Maynard  was  almost  always  on  her  piazza  at  this  time,  and  her 
lovely  daughter  was  almost  sure  to  be  at  the  gate  with  two  or  three 
young  fellows  lounging  about  her.  This  morning,  however,  not  a  soul 
appeared  in  front  of  the  colonel's  quarters. 

Guard-mounting  at  the  fort  was  not  held  until  nine  o'clock,  con- 
trary to  the  somewhat  general  custom  at  other  posts  in  our  scattered 
army.  Colonel  Maynard  had  ideas  of  his  own  upon  the  subject,  and 
it  was  his  theory  that  everything  worked  more  smoothly  if  he  had 
finished  a  leisurely  breakfast  before  beginning  office-work  of  any  kind, 
and  neither  the  colonel  nor  his  family  cared  to  breakfast  before  eiglit 
o'clock.  In  view  of  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Maynard  had  borne  that  name 
but  a  very  short  time  and  that  her  knowledge  of  army  life  dated  only 
from  the  month  of  May,  the  garrison  was  disposed  to  consider  her  en- 

763 


764  FROM   THE  RANKS. 

titled  to  much  latitude  of  choice  in  such  matters,  even  while  it  did  say 
that  she  was  old  enough  to  be  above  bride-like  sentiment.  The  women- 
folk at  the  fort  were  of  opinion  that  Mrs.  Maynard  was  fifty.  It  must 
be  conceded  that  she  was  over  forty,  also  that  this  was  her  second  entiy 
into  the  bonds  of  matrimony. 

That  no  one  should  now  appear  on  the  colonel's  piazza  was  obvi- 
ously a  disappointment  to  several  people.  In  some  way  or  other  most 
of  the  breakfast-tables  at  the  post  had  been  enlivened  by  accounts  of 
the  mysterious  shooting.  The  soldiers  going  the  rounds  with  the 
"  police-cart,"  the  butcher  and  grocer  and  baker  from  town,  the  old 
milkwoman  with  her  glistening  cans,  had  all  served  as  newsmongers 
from  kitchen  to  kitchen,  and  the  story  that  came  in  with  the  coifee  to 
the  lady  of  the  house  had  lost  nothing  in  bulk  or  bravery.  The  groups 
of  officers  chatting  and  smoking  in  front  of  head-quarters  gained  acces- 
sions every  moment,  while  the  ladies  seemed  more  absorbed  in  chat  and 
confidences  than  in  the  sweet  music  of  the  band. 

What  fairly  exasperated  some  men  was  the  fact  that  the  old  officer 
of  the  day  was  not  out  on  the  parade  where  he  belonged.  Only  the 
new  incumbent  was  standing  there  in  statuesque  pose  as  the  band 
trooped  along  the  line,  and  the  fact  that  the  colonel  had  sent  out  word 
that  the  ceremony  would  proceed  without  Captain  Chester  only  served 
to  add  fuel  to  the  flame  of  popular  conjecture.  It  was  known  that  the 
colonel  was  holding  a  consultation  with  closed  doors  with  the  old 
officer  of  the  day,  and  never  before  since  he  came  to  the  regiment  had 
the  colonel  been  known  to  look  so  pale  and  strange  as  when  he  glanced 
out  for  just  one  moment  and  called  his  orderly.  The  soldier  sprang  up, 
saluted,  received  his  message,  and,  with  every  eye  following  him,  sped 
oiF  towards  the  old  stone  guard-house.  In  three  minutes  he  was  on 
his  way  back,  accompanied  by  a  corporal  and  private  of  the  guard  in 
full  dress  uniform. 

"  That's  Leary, — the  man  who  fired  the  shot,"  said  Captain  Wilton 
to  his  senior  lieutenant,  who  stood  by  his  side. 

"Belongs  to  B  Company,  doesn't  he?"  queried  the  subaltern. 
"  Seems  to  me  I  have  heard  Captain  Armitage  say  he  was  one  of  his 
best  men." 

"Yes.  He's  been  in  the  regiment  as  long  as  I  can  remember. 
What  on  earth  can  tlie  colonel  want  him  for?  Near  as  I  can  learn,  he 
only  fired  by  Chester's  order." 

"  And  neither  of  them  knows  what  he  fired  at." 

It  was  perhaps  ten  minutes  more  before  Private  Leary  came  forth 
from  the  door-way  of  the  colonel's  office,  nodded  to  the  corporal,  and, 
raising  their  white-gloved  hands  in  salute  to  the  group  of  officers,  the 
two  men  tossed  their  rifles  to  the  right  slioulder  and  strode  back  to  the 
guard. 

Another  moment,  and  the  colonel  himself  opened  his  door  and  ap- 
peared in  the  hall-way.  He  stopped  abruptly,  turned  back  and  spoke 
a  few  words  in  low  tone,  then  hurried  through  the  groups  at  the  en- 
trance, looking  at  no  man,  avoiding  tlieir  glances,  and  giving  faint  and 
impatient  return  to  the  soldierly  salutations  that  greeted  him.  The 
sweat  was  beaded  on  his  forehead  ;  his  lips  were  white,  and  his  face  full 


FROM   THE  RANKS.  765 

of  a  trouble  and  dismay  no  man  had  ever  seen  there  before.  He  spoke 
to  no  one,  but  walked  rapidly  homeward,  entered,  and  closed  the  gate 
and  door  behind  him. 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence  in  the  group.  Few  men  in  the 
service  were  better  loved  and  honored  than  the  veteran  soldier  who 

commanded  the  tli  Infantry ;    and  it  was  with  genuine  concern 

that  his  officers  saw  him  so  deeply  and  painfully  aifected, — for  affected 
he  cei'tainly  was.  Never  l^efore  had  his  cheery  voice  denied  them  a 
cordial  "  Good-morning,  gentlemen."  Never  before  had  his  blue  eyes 
flinched.  He  had  been  their  comrade  and  commander  in  years  of 
frontier  service,  and  his  bachelor  home  had  been  the  rendezvous  of  all 
genial  spirits  when  in  garrison.  They  had  missed  him  sorely  when  he 
went  abroad  on  long  leave  the  previous  year,  and  were  almost  indig- 
nant when  they  received  the  news  that  he  had  met  his  fate  in  Italy  and 
would  return  married.  "She"  was  the  widow  of  a  wealthy  New- 
Yorker  who  had  been  dead  some  three  years  only,  and,  though  over 
forty,  did  not  look  her  years  to  masculine  eyes  when  she  reached  the 
fort  in  May.  After  knowing  her  a  week,  the  garrison  had  decided  to 
a  man  that  the  colonel  had  done  wisely.  Mrs.  Maynard  was  charming, 
courteous,  handsome,  and  accomplished.  Only  among  the  women  were 
there  still  a  few  who  resented  their  colonel's  capture ;  and  some  of 
these,  oblivious  of  the  fact  that  they  had  tempted  him  with  rela- 
tions of  their  own,  were  sententious  and  severe  in  their  condemnation 
of  second  marriage ;  for  the  colonel,  too,  was  indulging  in  a  second  ex- 
periment. Of  his  first,  only  one  man  in  the  regiment,  besides  the  com- 
mander, could  tell  anything ;  and  he,  to  the  just  indignation  of  almost 
everybody,  would  not  discuss  the  subject.  It  was  rumored  that  in  the 
old  days  when  Maynard  was  senior  captain  and  Chester  junior  sub- 
altern in  their  former  regiment  the  two  had  very  little  in  common.  It 
was  known  that  the  first  Mrs.  Maynard,  while  still  young  and  beautiful, 
had  died  abroad.  It  was  hinted  that  the  resignation  of  a  dashing 
lieutenant  of  the  regiment,  which  was  synchronous  with  her  departure 
for  foreign  shores,  was  demanded  by  his  brother  officers ;  but  it  was 
useless  asking  Captain  Chester.  He  could  not  tell ;  and — wasn't  it 
odd? — here  was  Chester  again,  the  only  man  in  the  colonel's  confi- 
dence in  an  hour  of  evident  trouble. 

"  By  Jove !  what's  gone  wrong  with  the  chief?"  was  the  first 
exclamation  from  one  of  the  older  officers.  "  I  never  saw  him  look  so 
broken." 

As  no  explanation  suggested  itself,  they  began  edging  in  towards 
the  office.  The  door  stood  open ;  a  hand-bell  banged ;  a  clerk  darted 
in  from  the  sergeant-major's  rooms,  and  Captain  Chester  was  revealed 
seated  at  the  colonel's  desk.  This  in  itself  was  sufficient  to  induce 
several  officers  to  stroll  in  and  look  inquiringly  around.  Captain 
Chester,  merely  nodding,  went  on  with  some  writing  at  which  he  was 
engaged. 

After  a  moment's  awkward  silence  and  uneasy  glancing  at  one  an- 
other, the  party  seemed  to  arrive  at  the  conclusion  that  it  was  time  to 
speak.  The  band  had  ceased,  and  the  new  guard  had  marched  away 
behind  its  pealing  bugles.     Lieutenant  Hall  winked  at  his  comrades, 


766  FROM   THE  RANKS. 

strolled  hesitatingly  over  to  the  desk,  balanced  unsteadily  on  one  leg, 
and,  with  his  hands  sticking  in  his  trousers-pockets  and  his  forage-cap 
swinging  from  protruding  thumb  and  forefinger,  cleared  his  throat,  and, 
with  marked  lack  of  confidence,  accosted  his  absorbed  superior : 

"  Colonel  gone  home  ?" 

"  Didn't  you  see  him  ?"  was  the  uncompromising  reply ;  and  the 
captain  did  not  deign  to  raise  his  head  or  eyes. 

"  Well — er — yes,  I  suppose  I  did,"  said  Mr.  Hall,  shifting  uncom- 
fortably to  his  other  leg,  and  prodding  the  floor  with  the  toe  of  his 
boot. 

"  Then  that  wasn't  what  you  wanted  to  know,  I  presume,"  said 
Captain  Chester,  signing  his  name  with  a  vicious  dab  of  the  pen  and 
bringing  his  fist  down  with  a  thump  on  the  blotting-pad,  while  he 
M'heeled  around  in  his  chair  and  looked  squarely  up  into  the  perturbed 
features  of  the  junior. 

"No,  it  wasn't,"  answered  Mr.  Hall,  in  an  injured  tone,  while  an 
audible  snicker  at  the  door  added  to  his  sense  of  discomfort.  "  What 
I  mainly  wanted  was  to  knoM^  could  I  go  to  town." 

"  That  jnatter  is  easily  arranged,  Mr.  Hall.  All  you  have  to  do  is 
to  get  out  of  that  uncomfortable  and  unsoldierly  position,  stand  in  the 
attitude  in  which  you  are  certainly  more  at  home  and  infinitely  more 
picturesque,  proffer  your  request  in  respectful  words,  and  there  is  no 
question  as  to  the  result." 

"Oh  !  you're  in  command,  then?"  said  Mr.  Hall,  slowly  wriggling 
into  the  position  of  the  soldier  and  flushing  through  his  bronzed 
cheeks.     "  I  thought  the  colonel  might  be  only  gone  for  a  minute." 

"  The  colonel  may  not  be  back  for  a  week ;  but  you  be  here  for 

dress-parade  all  the  same,  and Mr.  Hall !"  he  called,  as  the  young 

officer  was  turning  away.     The  latter  faced  about  again. 

"  Was  Mr.  Jerrold  going  with  you  to  town  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir.  He  was  to  drive  me  in  his  dog-cart,  and  it's  over  here 
now." 

"  Mr.  Jerrold  cannot  go, — at  least  not  until  I  have  seen  him." 

"Why,  captain,  he  got  the  colonel's  permission  at  breakfast  this 
morning." 

"  That  is  true,  no  doubt,  Mr.  Hall."  And  the  captain  dropped  his 
sharp  and  captious  manner,  and  his  voice  fell,  as  though  in  sympathy 
with  the  cloud  that  settled  on  his  face.  "  I  cannot  explain  matters  just 
now.  There  are  reasons  why  the  permission  is  withdrawn  for  the  time 
being.  The  adjutant  M'ill  notify  him."  And  Captain  Chester  turned 
to  his  desk  again  as  the  new  officer  of  the  day,  guard-book  in  hand, 
entered  to  make  his  report. 

"  The  usual  orders,  captain,"  said  Chester,  as  he  took  the  book  from 
his  hand  and  looked  over  the  list  of  prisoners.  Then,  in  bold  and 
rapid  strokes,  he  wrote  across  the  page  the  customary  certificate  of  the 
old  officer  of  the  day,  winding  up  with  this  remark  : 

"  He  also  inspected  guard  and  visited  sentries  between  3  and  3.35 
A.M.     The  firing  at  3.30  a.m.  was  by  his  order." 

Meantime,  those  officers  who  had  entered  and  who  had  no  immediate 
duty  to  perform  were  standing  or  seated  around  the  room,  but  all  ob- 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  767 

serving  profound  silence.  For  a  moment  or  two  no  sound  was  heard 
but  the  scratching  of  the  captain's  pen.  Then,  with  some  embarrass- 
ment and  hesitancy,  he  laid  it  down  and  glanced  around  him. 

"  Has  any  one  here  anything  to  ask, — any  business  to  transact  ?" 

Two  or  three  mentioned  some  routine  matters  that  required  the 
action  of  the  post-commander,  but  did  so  reluctantly,  as  though  they 
preferred  to  await  the  orders  of  the  colonel  himself.  Captain  Wilton, 
indeed,  spoke  his  sentiments  : 

"  I  wanted  to  see  Colonel  Maynard  about  getting  two  men  of  my 
company  relieved  from  extra  duty ;  but,  as  he  isn't  here,  I  fancy  I  had 
better  wait." 

"  Not  at  all.  Who  are  your  men  ? — Have  it  done  at  once,  Mr. 
Adjutant,  and  supply  their  places  from  my  company,  if  need  be.  Now 
is  there  anything  else  ?" 

The  group  was  apparently  "nonplussed,"  as  the  adjutant  afterwards 
put  it,  by  such  unlooked-for  complaisance  on  the  part  of  the  usually 
crotchety  senior  captain.  Still,  no  one  offered  to  lead  the  others  and 
leave  the  room.  After  a  moment's  nervous  rapping  with  his  knuckles 
on  the  desk.  Captain  Chester  again  abruptly  spoke  : 

"Gentlemen,  I  am  sorry  to  incommode  you,  but,  if  there  be  nothing 
more  that  you  desire  to  see  me  about,  I  shall  go  on  with  some  other 
matters,  which — pardon  me — do  not  require  your  presence." 

At  this  very  broad  hint  the  party  slowly  found  their  legs,  and  with 
much  wonderment  and  not  a  few  resentful  glances  at  their  temporary 
commander  the  officers  sauntered  to  the  door-way.  There,  however, 
several  stopped  again,  still  reluctant  to  leave  in  the  face  of  so  pervading 
a  mystery,  for  Wilton  turned. 

"  Am  I  to  understand  that  Colonel  Maynard  has  left  the  post  to  be 
gone  any  length  of  time  ?"  he  asked. 

"  He  has  not  yet  gone.  I  do  not  know  how  long  he  will  be  gone 
or  how  soon  he  will  start.  For  pressing  personal  reasons  he  has  turned 
over  the  command  to  me ;  and,  if  he  decide  to  remain  away,  of  course 
some  field-officer  will  be  ordered  to  come  to  head-quarters.  For  a  day 
or  two  you  will  have  to  worry  along  with  me ;  but  I  shan't  worry  you 
more  than  I  can  help.  I've  got  mystery  and  mischief  enough  here  to 
keep  me  busy,  God  knows.  Just  ask  Sloat  to  come  back  here  to  me, 
will  you?  And — Wilton,  I  did  not  mean  to  be  abrupt  with  you. 
I'm  all  upset  to-day.  Mr.  Adjutant,  notify  Mr.  Jerrold  at  once  that 
he  must  not  leave  the  post  until  I  have  seen  him.  It  is  the  colonel's 
last  order.     Tell  him  so." 

11. 

The  night  before  had  been  unusually  dark.  A  thick  veil  of  clouds 
overspread  the  heavens  and  hid  the  stars.  Moon  there  was  none,  for 
the  faint  silver  crescent  that  gleamed  for  a  moment  through  the  swift- 
sailing  wisps  of  vapor  had  dropped  beneath  the  horizon  soon  after 
tattoo,  and  the  mournful  strains  of  "  taps,"  borne  on  the  rising  wind, 
seemed  to  signal  "  extinguish  lights"  to  the  entire  firmament  as  well  as 
to  Fort  Sibley.  There  was  a  dance  of  some  kind  at  the  quarters  of 
one  of  the  staff-officers  living  far  up  the  row  on  the  southern  terrace. 


768  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

Chester  heard  the  laughter  and  chat  as. the  young  officers  and  their 
convoy  of  matrons  and  maids  came  tripping  homeward  after  midnight. 
He  was  a  crusty  old  bachelor,  to  use  his  own  description,  and  rarely 
ventured  into  these  scenes  of  social  gayety,  and,  besides,  he  was  officer 
of  the  day,  and  it  was  a  theory  he  was  fond  of  expounding  to  juniors 
that  when  on  guard  no  soldier  should  permit  himself  to  be  drawn  from 
the  scene  of  his  duties.  AVith  his  books  and  his  pipe  Chester  whiled 
away  the  lonely  hours  of  the  early  night,  and  wondered  if  the  wind 
would  blow  up  a  rain  or  disperse  the  clouds  entirely.  Towards  one 
o'clock  a  light,  bounding  footstep  approached  his  door,  and  the  portal 
flew  open  as  a  trim-built  young  fellow  with  laughing  eyes  and  an  air 
of  exuberant  health  and  spirits  came  briskly  in.  It  was  Rollins,  the 
junior  second  lieutenant  of  the  regiment,  and  Chester's  own  and  only 
pet, — so  said  the  envious  others.  He  was  barely  a  year  out  of  leading- 
strings  at  the  Point,  and  as  full  of  hope  and  pluck  and  mischief  as  a 
colt.  Moreover,  he  was  frank  and  teachable,  said  Chester,  and  didn't 
come  to  him  with  the  idea  that  he  had  nothing  to  learn  and  less  to  do. 
The  boy  won  upon  his  gruff  captain  from  the  very  start,  and,  to  the 
incredulous  delight  of  the  whole  regiment,  within  six  montlis  the  old 
cynic  had  taken  him  into  his  heart  and  home,  and  Mr.  Rollins  occupied 
a  pleasant  room  under  Chester's  roof-tree,  and  was  the  sole  accredited 
sharer  of  the  captain's  mess.  To  a  youngster  just  entering  service, 
whose  ambition  it  was  to  stick  to  business  and  make  a  record  for  zeal 
and  efficiency,  these  were  manifest  advantages.  There  were  men  in  the 
regiment  to  whom  such  close  communion  with  a  watchful  senior  would 
have  been  most  embarrassing,  and  Mr.  Rollins's  predecessor  as  second 
lieutenant  of  Chester's  company  was  one  of  these.  Mr.  Jerrold  was  a 
happy  man  when  promotion  took  him  from  under  the  wing  of  "  Crusty 
Jake"  and  landed  him  in  Company  B.  More  than  that,  it  came  just  at 
a  time  when,  after  four  years  of  loneliness  and  isolation  at  an  up-river 
stockade,  his  new  company  and  his  old  one,  together  with  four  others 
from  the  regiment,  were  ordered  to  join  head-quarters  and  the  band  at 
the  most  delightful  station  in  the  Northwest.  Here  Mr.  Rollins  had 
reported  for  duty  during  the  previous  autumn,  and  here  they  were  with 
troops  of  other  arms  of  the  service,  enjoying  the  close  proximity  of  all 
the  good  things  of  civilization. 

Chester  looked  up  with  a  quizzical  smile  as  his  "  plebe"  came  in : 
"  Well,  sir,  how  many  dances  had  you  with  '  Sweet  Alice,  Ben 
Bolt'  ?  Not  many,  I  fancy,  with  Mr.  Jerrold  monopolizing  everything, 
as  usual.  By  gad  !  some  good  fellow  could  make  a  colossal  fortune 
in  buying  that  young  man  at  my  valuation  and  selling  him  at  his 
own." 

"  Oh,  come,  now,  captain,"  laughed  Rollins,  "  Jerrold's  no  such 
slouch  as  you  make  him  out.  He's  lazy,  and  he  likes  to  spoon,  and 
he  puts  up  with  a  good  deal  of  petting  from  the  girls, — who  wouldn't, 
if  he  could  get  it  ? — but  he  is  jolly  and  big-hearted,  and  don't  put  on 
any  airs, — with  us,  at  least, — and  the  mess  like  him  first-rate.  'Tain't 
his  fault  that  he's  handsome  and  a  regular  lady-killer.  You  must 
admit  that  he  had  a  pretty  tough  four  years  of  it  up  there  at  that  cussed 
old  Indian  graveyard,  and  it's  only  natural  he  should  enjoy  getting 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  769 

here,  where  there  are  theatres  and  concerts  and  operas  and  dances  and 
dinners " 

"  Yes,  dances  and  dinners  and  daughters, — all  delightful,  I  know, 
but  no  excuse  for  a  man's  neglecting  his  manifest  duty,  as  he  is  doing 
and  has  been  ever  since  we  got  here.  Any  other  time  the  colonei  would 
have  straightened  him  out ;  but  no  use  trying  it  now,  when  both  women 
in  his  household  are  as  big  fools  about  the  man  as  anybody  in  town, — 
bigger,  unless  I'm  a  born  idiot."     And  Chester  rose  excitedly. 

"  I  suppose  he  had  Miss  Renwick  pretty  much  to  himself  to-night  ?" 
he  presently  demanded,  looking  angrily  and  searchingly  at  his  junior, 
as  though  half  expecting  him  to  dodge  the  question. 

"  Oh,  yes.  Why  not  ?  It's  pretty  evident  she  would  rather  dance 
and  be  with  hini  than  with  any  one  else  :  so  what  can  a  fellow  do?  Of 
course  we  ask  her  to  dance,  and  all  that,  and  I  think  he  wants  us  to ; 
but  I  cannot  help  feeling  rather  a  bore  to  her,  even  if  she  is  only 
eighteen,  and  there  are  plenty  of  pleasant  girls  in  the  garrison  who 
don't  get  any  too  much  attention,  now  we're  so  near  a  big  city,  and  I 
like  to  be  with  them." 

"  Yes,  and  it's  the  right  thing  for  you  to  do,  youngster.  That's  one 
trait  I  despise  in  Jerrold.  When  we  were  up  there  at  the  stockade  two 
winters  ago,  and  Captain  Gray's  little  girl  was  there,  he  hung  around 
her  from  morning  till  night,  and  the  poor  little  thing  fairly  beamed  and 
blossomed  with  delight.  Look  at  her  now,  man  !  He  don't  go  near 
her.  He  hasn't  had  the  decency  to  take  her  a  walk,  a  drive,  or  any- 
thing, since  we  got  here.  He  began,  from  the  moment  w^e  came,  with 
that  gang  in  town.  He  was  simply  devoted  to  Miss  Beaubien  until 
Alice  Renwick  came ;  then  he  dropped  her  like  a  hot  brick.  By  the 
Eternal,  Eollins,  he  hasn't  gotten  off  with  that  old  love  yet,  you  mark 
my  words.  There's  Indian  blood  in  her  veins,  and  a  look  in  her  eye 
that  makes  me  wriggle,  sometimes.  I  watched  her  last  night  at  parade 
when  she  drove  out  here  with  that  copper-faced  old  squaw,  her  mother. 
For  all  her  French  and  Italian  education  and  her  years  in  New  York 
and  Paris,  that  girl's  got  a  wild  streak  in  her  somewhere.  She  sat  there 
watching  him  as  the  officers  marched  to  the  front,  and  then  her,  as  he 
went  up  and  joined  Miss  Renwick  ;  and  there  was  a  gleam  of  her  white 
teeth  and  a  flash  in  her  black  eyes  that  made  me  think  of  the  leap  of  a 
knife  from  the  sheath.  Not  but  wliat  'twould  serve  him  right  if  she 
did  play  him  some  devil's  trick.  It's  his  own  doing.  Were  any  people 
out  from  town  ?"  he  suddenly  asked. 

"  Yes,  half  a  dozen  or  so,"  answered  Mr.  Rollins,  who  was  pulling 
off  his  boots  and  inserting  his  feet  into  easy  slippers,  while  old 
"  Crusty"  tramped  excitedly  up  and  down  the  floor.  "  Most  of  them 
stayed  out  here,  I  think.    Only  one  team  went  back  across  the  bridge." 

"Whose  was  that?" 

"  The  Suttons',  I  believe.  Young  Cub  Sutton  was  out  with  his 
sister  and  another  girl." 

"  There's  another  damned  fool !"  growled  Chester.  "  That  boy  has 
ten  thousand  a  year  of  his  own,  a  beautiful  home  that  will  be  his,  a 
doting  mother  and  sister,  and  everything  wealth  can  buy,  and  yet,  by 
gad !  he's  unhappy  because  he  can't  be  a  poor  devil  of  a  lieutenant, 


770  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

with  nothing  but  drills,  debts,  and  rifle-practice  to  enliven  him.  That's 
what  brings  him  out  here  all  the  time.  He'd  swap  places  with  you  in 
a  minute.     Isn't  he  very  thick  with  Jerrold  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  rather.     Jerrold  entertains  him  a  good  deal." 

"Which  is  returned  with  compound  interest,  I'll  bet  you.  Mr. 
Jerrold  simply  makes  a  convenience  of  him.  He  won't  make  love  to 
his  sister,  because  the  poor,  rich,  unsophisticated  girl  is  as  ugly  as  she 
is  ubiquitous.  His  majesty  is  fastidious,  you  see,  and  seeks  only  the 
caress  of  beauty,  and  while  he  lives  there  at  the  Buttons'  when  he  goes 
to  town,  and  dines  and  sleeps  and  smokes  and  wines  there,  and  uses 
their  box  at  the  opera-house,  and  is  courted  and  flattered  by  the  old 
lady  because  dear  Cubby  worships  the  ground  he  walks  on  and  poor 
Fanny  Sutton  thinks  him  adorable,  he  turns  his  back  on  the  girl  at 
every  dance  because  she  can't  dance,  and  leaves  her  to  you  fellows  who 
have  a  conscience  and  some  idea  of  decency.  He  gives  all  his  devotions 
to  Nina  Beaubien,  who  dances  like  a  cori/pMe,  and  drops  her  when  Alice 
Reuwick  comes  with  her  glowing  Spanish  beauty.  Oh,  damn  it,  I'm 
ati  okl  fool  to  get  worked  up  over  it  as  I  do,  but  you  young  fellows 
don't  see  what  I  see.  You  haven't  seen  what  I've  seen;  and  pray 
God  you  never  may !  That's  where  the  shoe  pinches,  Rollins.  It  is 
what  he  reminds  me  of — not  so  much  v/hat  he  is,  I  suppose — that  I  get 
rabid  about.  He  is  for  all  the  world  like  a  man  we  had  in  the  old 
regiment  when  you  were  in  swaddling-clothes ;  and  I  never  look  at 
Mamie  Gray's  sad,  white  face  that  it  doesn't  bring  back  a  girl  I  knew 
just  then  whose  heart  was  broken  by  just  such  a  shallow,  selfish,  adora- 
ble scoun No,  I  won't  use  that  word  in  speaking  of  Jerrold ;  but 

it's  what  I  fear.  Rollins,  you  call  him  generous.  Well,  so  he  is, — 
lavish,  if  you  like,  with  his  money  and  his  hospitality  here  in  the  post. 
Money  comes  easily  to  him,  and  goes ;  but  you  boys  misuse  the  term. 
I  calf  him  selfish  to  the  core,  because  he  can  deny  himself  no  luxury, 
no  pleasure,  though  it  may  wring  a  woman's  life — or,  more  than  that, 
her  honor — to  give  it  him."  The  captain  was  tramping  up  and  down 
the  room  now,  as  was  his  wont  when  excited  ;  his  face  was  flushed, 
and  his  hand  clinched.  He  turned  suddenly  and  faced  the  younger 
oflicei',  who  sat  gazing  uncomfortably  at  the  rug  in  front  of  the  fire- 
place : 

"  Rollins,  some  day  I  may  tell  you  a  story  that  I've  kept  to  myself 
all  these  years.  You  won't  wonder  at  my  feeling  as  I  do  about  these 
goings-on  of  your  friend  Jerrold  when  you  hear  it  all,  but  it  was  just 
such  a  man  as  he  who  ruined  one  woman,  broke  the  heart  of  another, 
and  took  the  sunshine  out  of  the  life  of  two  men  from  that  day  to  this. 
One  of  them  was  your  colonel,  the  other  your  captain.  Now  go  to  bed. 
I'm  going  out."  And,  throwing  down  his  pipe,  regardless  of  the 
scattering  sparks  and  ashes,  Captain  Chester  strode  into  the  hall-way, 
picked  up  the  first  forage-cap  he  laid  hands  on,  and  banged  himself  out 
of  the  front  door. 

Mr.  Rollins  remained  for  some  moments  in  the  same  attitude,  still 
gazing  abstractedly  at  the  rug,  and  listening  to  the  nervous  tramp  of 
iiis  senior  officer  on  the  piazza  without.  Then  he  slowly  and  thought- 
fully went  to  his  room,  where  his  perturbed  spirit  was  soon  soothed  in 


FROM   THE  RANKS.  771 

sleep.  His  conscience  being  clear  and  his  health  perfect,  there  were  no 
deep  cares  to  keep  him  tossing  on  a  restless  pillow. 

To  Chester,  however,  sleep  was  impossible  :  he  tramped  the  piazza 
a  full  hour  before  he  felt  placid  enough  to  go  and  inspect  his  guard. 
The  sentries  were  calling  three  o'clock,  and  the  wind  had  died  away, 
as  he  started  on'  his  round.  Dark  as  was  the  night,  he  carried  no 
lantern.  The  main  garrison  was  well  lighted  by  lamps,  and  the  road 
circling  the  old  fort  was  broad,  smooth,  and  bordered  by  a  stone  coping 
wall  where  it  skirted  the  precipitous  descent  into  the  river-bottom.  As 
he  passed  down  the  plank  walk  west  of  the  quadrangle  wherein  lay  the 
old  barracks  and  the  stone  quarters  of  tlie  commanding  officer  and  the 
low  one-storied  row  of  bachelor  dens,  he  could  not  help  noting  the 
silence  and  peace  of  the  night.  Not  a  light  was  visible  at  any  window 
as  he  strode  down  the  line.  The  challenge  of  the  sentry  at  the  old 
stone  tower  sounded  unnecessarily  sharp  and  loud,  and  his  response  of 
"Officer  of  the  day"  was  lower  than  usual,  as  though  rebuking  the 
unseemly  outcry.  The  guard  came  scrambling  out  and  formed  liur- 
riedly  to  receive  him,  but  the  captain's  inspection  was  of  the  briefest 
kind.  Barely  glancing  along  the  prison  corridor  to  see  that  the  bars 
were  in  place,  he  turned  back  into  the  night,  and  made  for  the  line  of 
posts  along  the  river-bank.  The  sentry  at  the  high  bridge  across  the 
gorge,  and  the  next  one,  well  around  to  the  southeast  flank,  were  suc- 
cessively visited  and  briefly  questioned  as  to  their  instructions,  and  then 
the  captain  plodded  sturdily  on  until  he  came  to  the  sharp  bend  around 
the  outermost  angle  of  the  fort  and  found  himself  passing  behind  the 
quarters  of  the  commanding  officer,  a  substantial  two-storied  stone  house 
with  mansard  roof  and  dormer-windows.  The  road  in  the  rear  was 
some  teii  feet  below  the  level  of  the  parade  inside  the  quadrangle,  and 
consequently,  as  the  house  faced  the  parade,  what  was  the  ground-floor 
from  that  front  became  the  second  story  at  the  rear.  The  kitchen,  store- 
room, and  servants'  rooms  were  on  this  lower  stage,  and  opened  upon 
the  road ;  an  outer  stairway  ran  up  to  the  centre  door  at  the  back,  but 
at  the  east  and  west  flanks  of  the  house  the  stone  walls  stood  without 
port  or  window  except  those  above  the  eaves, — the  dormers.  Light  and 
air  in  abundance  streamed  through  the  broad  Venetian  windows  north 
and  south  when  light  and  air  were  needed.  This  night,  as  usual,  all 
was  tightly  closed  below,  all  darkness  aloft  as  he  glanced  up  at  the 
dormers  high  above  his  head.  As  he  did  so,  his  foot  struck  a  sudden 
and  sturdy  obstacle;  he  stumbled  and  pitched  heavily  forward,  and 
found  himself  sprawling  at  full  length  upon  a  ladder  lying  on  the 
ground  almost  in  the  middle  of  the  roadway. 

"  Damn  those  painters  !"  he  gi'owled  between  his  set  teeth.  "  They 
leave  their  infernal  man-traps  around  in  the  very  hope  of  catching  me, 
I  believe.  Now,  who  but  a  painter  would  have  left  a  ladder  in  such  a 
place  as  this  ?" 

Rising  ruefully  and  rubbing  a  bruised  knee  with  his  hand,  he 
limped  painfully  ahead  a  few  steps,  until  he  came  to  the  side-wall  of 
the  colonel's  house.  Here  a  plank  walk  passed  from  the  roadway  along 
the  western  wall  until  almost  on  a  line  with  the  front  piazza,  where  by 
a  flight  of  steps  it  was  carried  up  to  the  level  of  the  parade.     Here  he 


772  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

paused  a  moment  to  dust  off  his  clothes  and  rearrange  his  belt  and 
sword.  He  stood  leaning  against  the  M'all  and  facing  the  gray  stone 
gable  end  of  the  row  of  old-fashioned  quarters  that  bounded  the  parade 
upon  the  southwest.     All  was  still  darkness  and  silence. 

"  Confound  this  sword  !'^  he  muttered  again  :  "  the  thing  made  rat- 
tle and  racket  enough  to  wake  the  dead.  AYonder  if  I  disturbed  any- 
body at  the  colonel's." 

As  though  in  answer  to  his  suggestion,  there  suddenly  appeared, 
high  on  the  blank  wall  before  him,  the  reflection  of  a  faint  light.  Had 
a  little  night-lamp  been  turned  on  in  the  front  room  of  the  upper  story? 
The  gleam  came  from  the  north  window  on  the  side :  he  saw  plainly 
the  shadow  of  the  pretty  lace  curtains,  looped  loosely  back.  Then  the 
shade  was  gently  raised,  and  there  was  for  an  instant  the  silhouette  of 
a  slender  hand  and  wrist,  the  shadow  of  a  lace-bordered  sleeve.  Then 
the  light  receded,  as  though  carried  back  across  the  room,  waned,  as 
though  slowly  extinguished,  and  the  last  shadows  showed  the  curtains 
still  looped  back,  the  rolling  shade  still  raised. 

"  I  thought  so,"  he  growled.  "  One  tumble  like  that  is  enough 
to  wake  the  Seven  Sleepers,  let  alone  a  love-sick  girl  who  is  prob- 
ably dreaming  over  Jerrold's  parting  v/ords.  She  is  spirited  and  blue- 
blooded  enough  to  have  more  sense,  too,  that  same  superb  brunette. 
Ah,  Miss  Alice,  I  wonder  if  you  think  that  fellow's  love  worth  having. 
It  is  two  hours  since  he  left  you, — more  than  that, — and  here  you  are 
awake  yet, — cannot  sleep, — want  more  air,  and  have  to  come  and  raise 
your  shade.  No  such  warm  night,  either."  These  were  his  reflections 
as  he  picked  up  his  offending  sword  and,  more  slowly  and  cautiously 
now,  groped  his  way  along  the  western  terrace.  He  passed  the  row 
of  bachelor  quarters,  and  was  well  out  beyond  the  limits  of  the  fort 
before  he  came  upon  the  next  sentry, — "Number  Five," — and  recog- 
nized, in  the  stern  "Who  comes  there?"  and  the  sharp  rattle  of  the 
bayonet  as  it  dropped  to  the  charge,  the  well-known  challenge  of 
Private  Leary,  one  of  the  oldest  and  most  reliable  soldiers  in  the  regi- 
ment. 

"  All  right  on  your  post,  Leary  ?"  he  asked,  after  having  given  the 
countersign. 

"  All  right,  I  thinh,  sor ;  though  if  the  captain  had  asked  me  that 
half  an  hour  ago  I'd  not  have  said  so.  It  was  so  dark  I  couldn't  see 
me  hand  afore  me  face,  sor ;  but  about  half-past  two  I  was  walkin' 
very  slow  down  back  of  the  quarters,  whin  just  close  by  Loot'nant 
Jerrold's  back  gate  I  seen  somcthin'  movin',  and  as  I  come  softly  along 
it  riz  up,  an'  sure  I  thought  'twas  the  loot'nant  himself,  whin  he 
seemed  to  catch  sight  o'  me  or  hear  me,  and  he  backed  inside  the  gate 
an'  shut  it.  I  was  sure  'twas  he,  he  was  so  tall  and  slim  like,  an'  so  I 
niver  said  a  word  until  I  got  to  thinkin'  over  it,  and  then  I  couldn't 
spake.  Sure  if  it  had  been  the  loot'nant  he  wouldn't  have  backed 
away  from  a  sintry ;  he'd  'a'  come  out  bold  arid  given  the  countersign ; 
but  I  didn't  think  o'  that.  It  looked  like  him  in  the  dark,  an'  'twas 
his  quarters,  an'  I  thought  it  was  him,  until  I  thought  ag'in,  and  then, 
sor,  I  wint  back  and  searched  the  yard ;  but  there  was  no  one  there." 

"  Hm  !   Odd  thing  that,  Leary  !  Why  didn't  you  challenge  at  first  ?" 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  773 

"Sure,  sor,  he  lept  inside  the  fince  quick  as  iver  we  set  eyes  on 
each  other.  He  was  bendin'  down,  and  I  thought  it  was  one  of  the 
hound  pups  when  I  first  sighted  him." 

"And  he  hasn't  been  around  since?" 

"  No,  sor,  nor  nobody,  till  the  officer  of  the  day  came  along." 

Chester  walked  away  puzzled.  Sibley  was  a  most  quiet  and  orderly 
garrison.  Night  prowlers  had  never  been  heard  from,  especially  over 
here  at  the  south  and  southwest  fronts.  The  enlisted  men  going  to  or 
from  town  passed  across  the  big,  high  bridge  or  went  at  once  to  their 
own  quarters  on  the  east  and  north.  This  southwestern  terrace  behind 
the  bachelors'  row  was  the  most  secluded  spot  on  the  whole  post, — so 
much  so  that  when  a  fire  broke  out  there  among  the  fuel-heaps  one  sharp 
winter's  night  a  year  agone  it  had  wellnigh  enveloped  the  whole  line- 
before  its  existence  was  discovered.  Indeed,  not  until  after  this  occur- 
rence was  a  sentry  posted  on  that  front  at  all ;  and,  once  ordered  there, 
he  had  so  little  to  do  and  was  so  comparatively  sure  to  be  undisturbed 
that  the  old  soldiers  eagerly  sought  the  post  in  preference  to  any  other, 
and  were  given  it  as  a  peace  privilege.  For  months,  relief  after  relief 
tramped  around  the  fort  and  found  the  terrace  post  as  humdrum  and 
silent  as  an  empty  church ;  but  this  night  "  Number  Five"  leaped  sud- 
denly into  notoriety. 

Instead  of  going  home,  Chester  kept  on  across  the  plateau  and  took 
a  long  walk  on  the  northern  side  of  the  reservation,  where  the  quarter- 
master's stables  and  corrals  were  placed.  He  was  affected  by  a  strange 
unrest.  His  talk  with  Rollins  had  roused  the  memories  of  years  long 
gone  by, — of  days  when  he,  too,  was  young  and  full  of  hope  and  faith, 
ay,  full  of  love, — all  lavished  on  one  fair  girl  who  knew  it  well,  but 
gently,  almost  entreatingly,  repelled  him.  Her  heart  was  wrapped 
up  in  another,  the  Adonis  of  his  day  in  the  gay  old  seaboard  garrison. 
She  was  a  soldier's  child,  barrack-born,  simply  taught,  knowing  little 
of  the  vice  and  temptations,  the  follies  and  the  frauds,  of  the  whirling 
life  of  civilization.  A  good  and  gentle  mother  had  reared  her  and  been 
called  hence.  Her  father,  an  officer  whose  sabre-arm  was  left  at  Molino 
del  Rey,  and  whose  heart  was  crushed  Avhen  the  loving  wife  was  taken 
from  him,  turned  to  the  child  who  so  resembled  her,  and  centred  there 
all  his  remaining  love  and  life.  He  welcomed  Chester  to  his  home,  and 
tacitly  favored  his  suit,  but  in  his  blindness  never  saw  how  a  few 
moonlit  strolls  on  the  old  moss-grown  parapet,  a  few  evening  dances  in 
the  casemates  with  handsome,  wooing,  winning  Will  Forrester,  had 
done  their  work.  She  gave  him  all  the  wild,  enthusiastic,  worshipping 
love  of  her  girlish  heart  just  about  the  time  Captain  and  Mrs.  Maynard 
came  back  from  leave,  and  then  he  grew  cold  and  negligent  there,  but 
lived  at  Maynard's  fireside ;  and  one  day  there  came  a  sensation, — a 
tragedy, — and  Mrs.  Maynard  went  away,  and  died  abroad,  and  a 
shocked  and  broken-hearted  girl  hid  her  face  from  all  and  pined  at 
home,  and  Mr.  Forrester's  resignation  was  sent  from — no  one  knew 
just  where,  and  no  one  would  have  cared  to  know,  except  Maynard.  He 
would  have  followed  him,  pistol  in  hand,  but  Forrester  gave  him  no 
chance.  Years  afterwards  Chester  again  sought  her  and  offered  her  his 
love  and  his  name.     It  was  useless,  she  told  him,  sadly.     She  lived 


774  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

only  for  her  father  now,  and  would  never  leave  him  till  he  died,  and 
then — she  prayed  she  might  go  too.  Memories  like  this  will  come  up 
at  such  times  in  these  same  "  still  watches  of  the  night."  Chester  was 
in  a  moody  frame  of  mind  when  about  half  an  hour  later  he  came  back 
past  the  guard-house.  The  sergeant  was  standing  near  the  lighted  en- 
trance, and  the  captain  called  him  : 

"  There's  a  ladder  lying  back  of  the  colonel's  quarters  on  the  road- 
way. Some  of  those  painters  left  it,  I  suppose.  It's  a  wonder  some 
of  the  reliefs  have  not  broken  their  necks  over  it  going  around  to-night. 
Let  the  next  one  pick  it  up  and  move  it  out  of  the  way.  Hasn't  it- 
been  reported  ?" 

"  Not  to  me,  sir.  Corporal  Schreiber  has  command  of  this  relief, 
and  he  has  said  nothing  about  it.     Here  he  is,  sir." 

"Didn't  you  see  it  or  stumble  over  it  when  posting  your  relief, 
corporal  ?"  asked  Chester. 

"  No  indeed,  sir.  I — I  think  the  captain  must  have  been  mistaken 
in  thinking  it  a  ladder.    We  would  surely  have  struck  it  if  it  had  been." 

"No  mistake  at  all,  corporal.  I  lifted  it.  It  is  a  long,  heavy 
ladder, — over  twenty  feet,  I  should  say." 

"  There  is  such  a  ladder  back  there,  captain,"  said  the  sergeant, 
"but  it  always  hangs  on  the  fence  just  behind  the  young  officers' 
quarters, — Bachelors'  Row,  sir,  I  mean." 

"  And  that  ladder  was  there  an  hour  ago  when  I  went  my  rounds," 
said  the  corporal,  earnestly.  "  I  had  ray  hurricane-lamp,  sir,  and  saw 
it  on  the  fence  plainly.  And  there  was  nothing  behind  the  colonel's  at 
that  hour." 

Chester  turned  away,  thoughtful  and  silent.  Without  a  word  he 
walked  straight  into  the  quadrangle,  past  the  Ioav  line  of  stone  build- 
ings, the  offices  of  the  adjutant  and  quartermaster,  the  home  of  the 
sergeant-major,  the  club-  and  billiard-room,  past  the  long,  piazza-shaded 
row  of  bachelor  quarters,  and  came  upon  the  plank  walk  at  the  corner 
of  the  colonel's  fence.  Ten  more  steps,  and  he  stood  stock-still  at  the 
head  of  the  flight  of  wooden  stairs. 

There,  dimly  visible  against  the  southern  sky,  its  base  on  the  plank 
walk  below  him,  its  top  resting  upon  the  eaves  midway  between  the 
dormer-window  and  the  roof  of  the  piazza,  so  that  one  could  steji  easily 
from  it  into  the  one  or  on  to  the  other,  was  the  very  ladder  that  half  an 
hour  before  Avas  lying  on  the  ground  behind  the  house. 

His  heart  stood  still.  He  seemed  powerless  to  move, — even  to 
think.  Then  a  slight  noise  roused  him,  and  with  every  nerve  tingling 
he  crouched  ready  for  a  spring.  With  quick,  agile  movements,  noise- 
less as  a  cat,  sinuous  and  stealthy  as  a  serpent,  the  dark  figure  of  a  man 
issued  from  Alice  Renwick's  chamber  window  and  came  gliding  down. 

One  second  more,  and,  almost  as  noiselessly,  he  reached  the  ground, 
then  quickly  raised  and  turned  the  ladder,  stepped  with  it  to  the  edge 
of  the  roadway,  and  peered  around  the  angle  as  though  to  see  that  no 
sentry  was  in  sight,  then  vanished  with  his  burden  around  the  corner. 
Another  second,  and  down  the  steps  went  Chester,  three  at  a  Iwund,  tip- 
toeing it  in  pursuit.  Ten  seconds  brought  him  close  to  the  culjjrit, — a 
tall,  slender  shadow. 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  775 

"  You  villain  !     Halt !" 

Down  went  the  ladder  on  the  dusty  road.  The  hand  that  Chester 
had  clinched  upon  the  broad  shoulder  was  hurled  aside.  There  was  a 
sadden  whirl,  a  lightning  blow  that  took  the  captain  full  in  the  chest 
and  staggered  him  back  upon  the  treacherous  and  entangling  rungs, 
and,  ere  he  could  recover  himself,  the  noiseless  stranger  had  fairly- 
whizzed  into  space  and  vanished  in  the  darkness  up  the  road.  Chester 
sprang  in  pursuit.  He  heard  the  startled  challenge  of  the  sentry,  and 
then  Leary's  excited  "  Halt,  I  say  !     Halt !"  and  then  he  shouted, — 

"  Fire  on  him,  Leary  !     Bring  him  down  !" 

Bang  went  the  ready  rifle  with  sharp,  sullen  roar  that  woke  the 
echoes  across  the  valley.  Bang  again,  as  Leary  sent  a  second  shot  after 
the  first.  Then,  as  the  captain  came  panting  to  the  spot,  they  followed 
up  the  road.  No  sign  of  the  runner.  Attracted  by  the  shots,  the 
sergeant  of  the  guard  and  one  or  two  men,  lantern-bearing,  came  run- 
ning to  the  scene.  Excitedly  they  searched  up  and  down  the  road  in 
mingled  hope  and  dread  of  finding  the  body  of  the  marauder,  or  some 
clue  or  trace.  Nothing !  Whoever  he  was,  the  fleet  runner  had  van- 
ished and  made  good  his  escape. 

"  Who  could  it  have  been,  sir  ?"  asked  the  sergeant  of  the  officer  of 
the  day.     "  Surely  none  of  the  men  ever  come  round  this  way." 

"  I  don't  know,  sergeant ;  I  don't  know.  Just  take  your  lamp  and 
see  if  there  is  anything  visible  down  there  among  the  rocks.  He  may 
have  been  hit  and  leaped  the  wall. — Do  you  think  you  hit  him, 
Leary  ?" 

"  I  can't  say,  sor.  He  came  by  me  like  a  flash.  I  had  just  a 
second's  look  at  hira,  and Sure  I  niver  saw  such  runnin'." 

"  Could  you  see  his  face  ?"  asked  Chester,  in  a  low  tone,  as  the  other 
men  moved  a-way  to  search  the  rocks. 

"  Not  his  face,  sor.     'Twas  too  dark." 

"  Was  there — did  he  look  like  anybody  you  knew,  or  had  seen  ? — 
anybody  in  the  command  ?" 

"  Well,  sor,  not  among  the  men,  that  is.  There's  none  so  tall  and 
slim  both,  and  so  light.  Sure  he  must  'a'  worn  gums,  sor.  You 
couldn't  hear  the  whisper  of  a  footfall." 

"  But  whom  did  he  seem  to  resemble  ?" 

"  Well,  if  the  captain  will  forgive  me,  sor,  it's  unwillin'  I  am  to 
say  the  worrd,  but  there's  no  one  that  tall  and  light  and  slim  here,  sor, 
but  Loot'nant  Jerrold.     Sure  it  couldn't  be  him,  sor." 

"  Leary,  will  you  promise  me  something  on  your  word  as  a  man  ?" 

"  I  will,  sor." 

"  Say  not  one  word  of  this  matter  to  any  one,  except  I  tell  you,  or 
you  have  to,  before  a  court." 

"  I  promise,  sor." 

"  And  I  believe  you.     Tell  the  sergeant  I  will  soon  be  back." 

With  that  he  turned  and  walked  down  the  road  until  once  more 
he  came  to  the  planlc  crossing  and  the  passage-way  between  the  colonel's 
and  Bachelors'  Row.  Here  again  he  stopped  short,  and  waited  with 
bated  breath  and  scarcely-beating  lieart.  The  faint  light  he  had  seen 
before  again  illumined  the  room  and  cast  its  gleam  upon  the  old  gray 


776  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

wall.  Even  as  he  gazed,  there  came  silently  to  the  window  a  tall, 
white-robed  form,  and  a  slender  white  hand  seized  and  lowered  the 
shade,  noiselessly.  Then,  as  before,  the  light  faded  away;  but — she 
was  awake. 

Waiting  one  moment  in  silence,  Captain  Chester  then  sprang  up  the 
wooden  steps  and  passed  under  the  piazza  which  ran  the  length  of  the 
bachelor  quarters.  Half-way  down  the  row  he  turned  sharply  to  his 
left,  opened  the  green-painted  door,  and  stood  in  a  little  dark  hall-way. 
Taking  his  match-box  from  his  pocket,  he  struck  a  light,  and  by  its 
glare  quickly  read  the  card  upon  the  first  door-way  to  his  right : 

"Mr.  Howard  F.  Jerrold, 

" th  Infantry,  U.S.A." 

Opening  this  door,  he  bolted  straight  through  the  little  parlor  to 
the  bedroom  in  the  rear.  A  dim  light  was  burning  on  the  mantel. 
The  bed  was  unruffled,  untouched,  and  Mr.  Jerrold  was  not  there. 

Five  minutes  afterwards.  Captain  Chester,  all  alone,  had  laboriously 
and  cautiously  dragged  the  ladder  from  the  side  to  the  rear  of  the 
colonePs  house,  stretched  it  in  the  roadway  where  he  had  first  stumbled 
upon  it,  then  returned  to  the  searching-party  on  "  Number  Five." 

"  Send  two  men  to  put  that  ladder  back,"  he  ordered.  "  It  is  where 
I  told  you, — on  the  road  behind  the  colonel's." 

III. 

"When  Mrs.  Maynard  came  to  Sibley  in  May  and  the  officers  with 
their  wives  were  making  their  welcoming  call,  she  had  with  motherly 
pride  and  pleasure  yielded  to  their  constant  importunities  and  shown  to 
one  party  after  another  an  album  of  photograplis, — likenesses  of  her 
only  daughter.  There  were  little  cartes  de  visite  representing  her  in 
long  dresses  and  baby-caps ;  quaint  little  pictures  of  a  chubby-faced, 
chubby-legged  infant  a  few  months  older ;  charming  studies  of  a  little 
girl  with  great  black  eyes  and  delicate  features ;  then  of  a  tall,  slender 
slip  of  a  maiden,  decidedly  foreign-looking ;  then  of  a  sweet  and  pensive 
face,  with  great  dark  eyes,  long,  beautiful  curling  lashes,  and  very  heavy, 
low-arclied  brows,  exquisitely  moulded  mouth  and  chin,  and  most  luxu- 
riant dark  hair ;  then  others,  still  older,  in  every  variety  of  dress, — even 
in  fancy  costume,  such  as  the  girl  had  worn  at  fair  or  masquerade. 
These  and  others  still  had  Mrs.  Maynard  shown  them,  with  repressed 
pride  and  pleasure  and  with  sweet  acknowledgment  of  their  enthusiastic 
praises.  Alice  still  tarried  in  the  East,  visiting  relatives  whom  she  had 
not  seen  since  her  father's  death  three  years  earlier,  and,  long  before  she 
came  to  join  her  mother  at  Sibley- and  to  enter  upon  the  life  she  so 
eagerly  looked  forward  to,  "  'way  out  in  the  West,  you  know,  with 
officers  and  soldiers  and  the  band,  and  buifalo  and  Indians  all  around 
you,"  there  was  not  an  officer  or  an  officer's  wife  wlio  had  not  delight- 
edly examined  that  album.  There  was  still  another  picture,  but  that 
one  had  been  shown  to  only  a  chosen  few  just  one  week  after  her  daugh- 
ter's arrival,  and  rather  an  absurd  scene  had  occurred,  in  which  that 


FROM   THE  RANKS.  777 

most  estimable  officer,  Lieutenant  Sloat,  had  figured  as  the  hero.  A 
more  simple-minded,  well-intentioned  fellow  than  Sloat  there  did  not 
live.  He  was  so  full  of  kindness  and  good  nature  and  readiness  to  do 
anything  for  anybody  that  it  never  seemed  to  occur  to  him  that  every- 
body on  earth  was  not  just  as  ready  to  be  equally  accommodating.  He 
was  a  perpetual  source  of  delight  to  the  colonel,  and  one  of  the  most  loyal 
and  devoted  of  subalterns,  despite  the  fact  that  his  locks  were  long  sil- 
vered with  the  frosts  of  years  and  that  he  had  fought  through  the  war 
of  the  rebellion  and  risen  to  the  rank  of  a  field-officer  in  Maynard's  old 
brigade.  The  most  temperate  of  men,  ordinarily,  the  colonel  had  one 
anniversary  he  loved  to  celebrate,  and  Sloat  was  his  stand-by  when  the 
3d  of  July  came  round,  just  as  he  had  been  at  his  shoulder  at  that 
supreme  moment  when,  heedless  of  the  fearful  sweep  of  shell  and  canis- 
ter through  their  shattered  ranks,  Pickett's  heroic  Virginians  breasted 
the  slope  of  Cemetery  Hill  and  surged  over  the  low  stone  wall  into 
Cushing's  guns.  Hard,  stubborn  fighting  had  Maynard's  men  to  do 
that  day,  and  for  serene  courage  and  determination  no  man  had  beaten 
Sloat.  Both  officers  had  bullet-hole  mementos  to  carry  from  that 
field ;  both  had  won  their  brevets  for  conspicuous  gallantry,  and  Sloat 
was  a  happy  and  grateful  man  when,  years  afterwards,  his  old  com- 
mander secured  liim  a  lieutenancy  in  the  regular  service.  He  was  the 
colonel's  henchman,  although  he  never  had  brains  enough  to  win  a  place 
on  the  regimental  staff,  and  when  Mrs.  Maynard  came  he  overwhelmed 
her  with  cumbrous  compliments  and  incessant  calls.  He  was,  to  his 
confident  belief,  her  chosen  and  accepted  knight  for  full  two  days  after 
her  arrival.  Then  Jerrold  came  back  from  a  brief  absence,  and,  as  in 
duty  bound,  went  to  pay  his  respects  to  his  colonel's  wife ;  and  that 
night  there  had  been  a  singular  scene.  Mrs.  Maynard  liad  stopped 
suddenly  in  her  laughing  chat  with  two  ladies,  had  started  from  her 
seat,  wildly  staring  at  the  tall,  slender  subaltern  who  entered  the  gate- 
way, and  then  fell  back  in  her  chair,  fairly  swooning  as  he  made  his  bow. 
Sloat  had  rushed  into  the  house  to  call  the  colonel  and  get  some 
water,  while  Mr.  Jerrold  stood  paralyzed  at  so  strange  a  reception  of 
his  first  call.  Mrs.  Maynard  revived  presently,  explained  that  it  was 
her  heart,  or  the  heat,  or  something,  and  the  ladies  on  their  way  home 
decided  that  it  was  possibly  the  heart,  it  was  certainly  not  the  heat,  it 
was  unquestionably  something,  and  that  something  was  Mr.  Jerrold, 
for  she  never  took  her  eyes  off  him  during  the  entire  evening,  and 
seemed  unable  to  shake  off  the  fascination.  Next  day  Jerrold  dined 
there,  and  from  that  time  on  he  was  a  daily  visitor.  Every  one  noted 
Mrs.  Maynard's  strong  interest  in  hira,  but  no  one  could  account  for  it. 
She  was  old  enough  to  be  his  mother,  said  the  garrison ;  but  not  until 
Alice  Renwick  came  did  another  consideration  appear :  he  was  singu- 
larly like  the  daughter.  Both  were  tall,  lithe,  slender ;  both  had  dark, 
lustrous  eyes,  dark,  though  almost  perfect,  skin,  exquisitely-chiselled 
features,  and  slender,  shapely  hands  and  feet.  Alice  was  "  the  picture 
of  her  father,"  said  Mrs.  Maynard,  and  Mr.  Renwick  had  lived  all  his 
life  in  New  York ;  while  Mr.  Jerrold  was  of  an  old  Southern  family, 
and  his  mother  a  Cuban  beauty  who  was  the  toast  of  the  New  Orleans 
clubs  not  many  years  before  the  war. 
Vol.  XL.— 51 


778  FROM   THE  RANKS. 

Poor  Sloat !  He  did  not  fancy  Jerrold,  and  was  as  jealous  as  so 
unselfish  a  mortal  could  be  of  the  immediate  ascendency  the  young 
fellow  established  in  the  colonel's  household.  It  was  bad  enough  be- 
fore Alice  joined  them  ;  after  that  it  was  wellnigh  unbearable.  Then 
came  the  3d-of-July  dinner  and  the  colonel's  one  annual  jollification. 
No  man  ever  heard  of  Sloat's  being  intoxicated ;  he  rarely  drank  at 
all ;  but  this  evening  the  reminiscences  of  the  day,  the  generous  wine, 
the  unaccustomed  elegance  of  all  his  surroundings,  due  to  Mrs.  May- 
nard's  taste  and  supervision,  and  the  influence  of  Alice  Renwick's 
exquisite  beauty,  had  fairly  carried  him  away. 

They  were  chatting  in  the  parlor,  while  Miss  Renwick  was  enter- 
taining some  young-lady  friends  from  town  and  listening  to  the  band 
on  the  parade.  Sloat  was  expatiating  on  her  grace  and  beauty  and 
going  over  the  album  for  the  twentieth  time,  when  the  colonel,  with  a 
twinkling  eye,  remarked  to  Mrs.  Maynard, — 

"I  think  you  ought  to  show  Major*  Sloat  the  '  Directoire'  picture,- 
my  dear." 

"  Alice  would  never  forgive  me,"  said  madame,  laughing ;  "  though 
I  consider  it  the  most  beautiful  we  have  of  her." 

"  Oh,  where  is  it  ?"  "  Oh,  do  let  us  see  it,  Mrs.  Maynard  !"  was 
the  chorus  of  exclamations  from  the  few  ladies  present.  "  Oh,  I  insist 
on  seeing  it,  madame,"  was  Sloat's  characteristic  contribution  to  the 
clamor. 

"  I  want  you  to  understand  it,"  said  Mrs.  Maynard,  pleased,  but 
still  hesitating.  "  We  are  very  daft  about  Alice  at  home,  you  know, 
and  it's  quite  a  wonder  she  has  not  been  utterly  spoiled  by  her  aunts 
and  uncles ;  but  this  picture  was  a  specialty.  An  artist  friend  of  ours 
fairly  made  us  have  it  taken  in  the  wedding-dress  worn  by  her  grand- 
mother. You  know  the  Josephine  Beauharnais  'Directoire'  style 
that  was  worn  in  seventeen  ninety-something.  Her  neck  and  shoul- 
ders are  lovely,  and  that  was  why  we  consented.  I  went,  and  so  did 
the  artist,  and  we  posed  her,  and  the  photograph  is  simply  perfect  of 
her  face,  and  neck  too,  but  when  Alice  saw  it  she  blushed  furiously 
and  forbade  my  having  them  finished.  Afterwards,  though,  she 
yielded  when  her  aunt  Kate  and  I  begged  so  hard  and  promised  that 
none  should  be  given  away,  and  so  just  half  a  dozen  were  finished. 
Indeal,  the  dress  is  by  no  means  as  d^coIleU  as  many  girls  wear  theirs 
at  dinner  now  in  New  York ;  but  poor  Alice  was  scandalized  when  she 
saw  it  last  month,  and  she  never  would  let  me  put  one  in  the  album." 

"  Oh,  do  go  and  get  it,  Mrs.  Maynard  !"  pleaded  the  ladies.  "  Oh, 
please  let  me  see  it,  Mrs.  Maynard !"  added  Sloat ;  and  at  last  the 
mother-pride  prevailed.  Mrs.  Maynard  rustled  up-stairs,  and  presently 
returned  holding  in  her  hands  a  delicate  silver  frame  in  filigree-work, 
a  quaint  foreign  affair,  and  enclosed  therein  was  a  cabinet  photograph 
en  vignette, — the  head,  neck,  and  shoulders  of  a  beautiful  girl ;  and  the 
dainty,  diminutive,  what-there-was-of-it  waist  of  the  old-fashioned  gown, 

*  By  act  of  Congress,  officers  may  be  addressed  by  the  title  of  the  highest 
rank  held  by  thera  in  the  volunteer  service  during  the  war.  The  colonel  always 
punctiliously  so  addressed  his  friend  and  subordinate,  although  in  the  army  his 
grade  was  simply  that  of  first  lieutenant. 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  779 

gashed  almost  immediately  under  the  exquisite  bust,  revealed  quite 
materially  the  cause  of  Alice  Renwick's  blushes.  But  a  more  beauti- 
ful portrait  was  uever  photographed.  The  women  fairly  gasped  with 
delight  and  envy.  Sloat  could  not  restrain  his  impatience  to  get  it  in 
his  own  hands,  and  finally  he  grasped  it  and  then  eyed  it  in  rapture. 
It  was  two  minutes  before  he  spoke  a  word,  while  the  colonel  sat  laugh- 
ing at  his  worshipping  gaze.  Mrs.  Maynard  somewhat  uneasily  stretched 
forth  her  hand,  and  the  other  ladies  impatiently  strove  to  regain  posses- 
sion. 

"  Come,  Major  Sloat,  you've  surely  had  it  long  enough.  We  want 
it  again." 

"  Never  !"  said  Sloat,  with  melodramatic  intensity.  "  Never !  This 
is  my  ideal  of  perfection, — of  divinity  in  woman.  I  will  bear  it  home 
with  me,  set  it  above  my  fireside,  and  adore  it  day  and  night." 

"  Nonsense,  Major  Sloat !"  said  Mrs.  Maynard,  laughing,  yet  far 
from  being  at  her  ease.  "  Come,  I  must  take  it  back.  Alice  may  be  in 
any  minute  now,  and  if  she  knew  I  had  betrayed  her  she  would  never 
forgive  me.     Come,  surrender !"    And  she  strove  to  take  it  from  him. 

But  Sloat  was  in  one  of  his  utterly  asinine  moods.  He  would  have 
been  perfectly  willing  to  give  any  sum  he  possessed  for  so  perfect  a 
picture  as  this.  He  never  dreamed  that  there  were  good  and  sufficient 
reasons  why  no  man  should  have  it.  He  so  loved  and  honored  his 
colonel  that  he  was  ready  to  lay  down  his  life  for  any  of  his  household. 
In  laying  claim  to  this  picture  he  honestly  believed  that  it  was  the 
highest  proof  he  could  give  of  his  admiration  and  devotion.  A  tame 
surrender  now  meant  that  his  protestations  were  empty  words.  "There- 
fore," argued  Sloat,  "  I  must  stand  firm." 

"  Madame,"  said  he,  "  I'd  die  first."  And  with  that  he  began  back- 
ing to  the  door. 

Alarmed  now,  Mrs.  Maynard  sprang  after  him,  and  the  little  major 
leaped  upon  a  chair,  his  face  aglow,  jolly,  rubicund,  beaming  with  bliss 
and  triumph.  She  looked  up,  almost  wringing  her  hands,  and  turned 
half  appealingly  to  the  colonel,  who  was  laughing  heartily  on  the  sofa, 
never  dreaming  Sloat  could  be  in  earnest. 

"  Here,  I'll  give  you  back  the  frame :  I  don't  want  that,"  said 
Sloat,  and  began  fumbling  at  the  back  of  the  photograph.  This  was 
too  much  for  the  ladies.  They,  too,  rushed  to  the  rescue.  One  of 
them  sprang  to  and  shut  the  door,  the  other  seized  and  violently  shook 
the  back  of  his  chair,  and  Sloat  leaped  to  the  floor,  still  clinging  to  his 
prize,  and  laughing  as  though  he  had  never  had  so  much  entertainment 
in  his  life.  The  long  Venetian  windows  opened  upon  the  piazza,  and 
towards  the  nearest  one  he  retreated,  holding  aloft  the  precious  gage  and 
waving  off  the  attacking  party  with  the  other  hand.  He  was  within 
a  yard  of  the  blinds,  when  they  were  suddenly  thrown  open,  a  tall, 
slender  form  stepped  quickly  in,  one  hand  seized  the  uplifted  wrist,  the 
other  the  picture,  and  in  far  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it  Mr.  Jerrold 
had  wrenched  it  away  and,  with  quiet  bow,  restored  it  to  its  rightful 
owner. 

"  Oh,  I  say,  now,  Jerrold,  that's  downright  unhandsome  of  you  !'\ 
gasped  Sloat.     "  I'd  have  been  on  my  way  home  with  it." 


780  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

"  Shut  up,  you  fool !"  was  the  sharp,  hissing  whisper.  "  Wait  till 
I  go  home,  if  you  want  to  talk  about  it."  And,  as  quickly  as  he  came, 
Mr.  Jerrold  slipped  out  again  upon  the  piazza. 

Of  course  the  story  was  told  with  varied  comment  all  over  the  post. 
Several  officers  were  injudicious  enough  to  chaiFthe  old  subaltern  about 
it,  and — he  was  a  little  sore-headed  the  next  day,  anyway — the  usually 
placid  Sloat  grew  the  more  indignant  at  Jerrold.  He  decided  to  go 
and  upbraid  him ;  and,  as  ill  luck  would  have  it,  they  met  before  noon 
on  the  steps  of  the  club-room. 

"  I  want  to  say  to  you,  Mr.  Jerrold,  that  from  an  officer  of  your 
age  to  one  of  mine  I  think  your  conduct  last  night  a  piece  of  imperti- 
nence." 

"  I  had  a  perfect  right  to  do  what  I  did,"  replied  Jerrold,  coolly. 
"  You  were  taking  a  most  unwarrantable  liberty  in  trying  to  carry  off 
that  picture." 

"  How  did  you  know  what  it  was  ?     You  had  never  seen  it !" 

"  There's  where  you  are  mistaken,  Mr.  Sloat"  (and  Jerrold  purposely 
and  exasperatingly  refused  to  recognize  the  customary  bi'evet)  :  "  I  had 
seen  it, — frequently." 

Two  officers  were  standing  by,  and  one  of  them  turned  sharply  and 
faced  Jerrold  as  he  spoke.  It  was  his  former  company  commander. 
Jerrold  noted  the  symptom,  and  flushed,  but  set  his  teeth  doggedly. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Jerrold !  Mrs.  Maynard  said  she  never  showed  that  to 
any  one,"  said  Sloat,  in  much  surprise.  "  You  heard  her,  did  you  not, 
Captain  Chester?" 

^'  I  did,  certainly,"  was  the  reply. 

"  All  the  same,   I  repeat  what  I've  said,"  was  Jerrold's  sullen 

answer.      "I  have  seen  it  frequently,  and,  what's    more "     He 

suddenly  stopped. 

"  Well,  what's  more  ?"  said  Sloat,  suggestively. 

"  Never  mind.  I  don't  care  to  talk  of  the  matter,"  replied  Jerrold, 
and  started  to  walk  away. 

But  Sloat  was  angry,  nettled,  jealous.  He  had  meant  to  show  his 
intense  loyalty  and  admiration  for  everything  that  was  his  colonel's, 
and  had  been  snubbed  and  called  a  fool  by  an  officer  many  years, 
though  not  so  many  "  files,"  his  junior.  He  never  had  liked  him,  and 
now  there  was  an  air  of  conscious  superiority  about  Jerrold  that  fairly 
exasperated  him.  He  angrily  followed  and  called  to  him  to  stop,  but 
Jerrold  walked  on.  Captain  Chester  stood  still  and  watched  them. 
The  little  man  had  almost  to  run  before  he  overtook  the  tall  one. 
They  were  out  of  earshot  when  he  finally  did  so.  There  were  a  few 
words  on  both  sides.  Then  Jerrold  shifted  his  light  cane  into  his  left 
hand,  and  Chester  started  forward,  half  expecting  a  fracas.  To  his 
astonishment,  the  two  officers  shook  hands  and  parted. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  as  Sloat  came  back  with  an  angry  yet  bewildered 
face,  "I'm  glad  you  shook  hands.  I  almost  feared  a  row,  and  was 
just  going  to  stop  it.     So  he  apologized,  did  he  ?" 

"  No,  nothing  like  it." 

"Then  what  did  you  mean  by  shaking  hands?" 

"  That's  nothing — never  you  mind,"  said  Sloat,  confusedly.     "  I 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  781 

haven't  forgiven  him,  by  a  good  deal.  The  man's  conceit  is  enough  to 
disgust  anything — but  a  woman,  I  suppose,"  he  finished,  ruefully. 

"  Well,  it's  none  of  my  business,  Sloat,  but  pardon  my  saying  I 
don't  see  what  there  was  to  bring  about  the  apparent  reconciliation. 
That  hand-shake  meant  something." 

"  Oh,  well — damn  it !  we  had  some  words,  and  he — or  I Well, 

there's  a  bet,  and  we  shook  hands  on  it." 

"  Seems  to  me  that's  pretty  serious  business,  Sloat, — a  bet  follow- 
ing such  a  talk  as  you  two  have  had.     I  hope " 

"  Well,  captain,"  interrupted  Sloat,  "  I  wouldn't  have  done  it  if  I 
hadn't  been  mad  as  blazes ;  but  I  made  it,  and  must  stick  to  it, — that's 
all." 

"  You  wouldn't  mind  telling  me  what  it  was,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  I  can't ;  and  that  ends  it." 

Captain  Chester  found  food  for  much  thought  and  speculation  over 
this  incident.  So  far  as  he  was  concerned,  the  abrupt  remark  of  Sloat 
by  no  means  ended  it.  In  his  distrust  of  Jerrold,  he  too  had  taken 
alarm  at  the  very  substantial  intimacy  to  which  that  young  man  was 
welcomed  at  the  colonel's  quarters.  Prior  to  his  marriage  old  Maynard 
had  not  liked  him  at  all,  but  it  was  mainly  because  he  had  been  so 
negligent  of  his  duties  and  so  determined  a  beau  in  city  society  after 
his  arrival  at  Sibley.  He  had,  indeed,  threatened  to  have  him  trans- 
ferred to  a  company  still  on  frontier  service  if  he  did  not  reform ;  but 
then  the  rifle-practice  season  began,  and  Jerrold  was  a  capital  shot  and 
sure  to  be  on  the  list  of  competitors  for  the  Department  team,  so  what 
was  the  use  ?  He  would  be  ordered  in  for  the  rifle-camp  anyway,  and 
so  the  colonel  decided  to  keep  him  at  head-quarters.  This  was  in  the 
summer  of  the  year  gone  by.  Then  came  the  colonel's  long  leave, 
his  visit  to  Europe,  his  meeting  with  his  old  friend,  now  the  widow  of 
the  lamented  Renwick,  their  delightful  winter  together  in  Italy,  his 
courtship,  her  consent,  their  marriage  and  return  to  America.  When 
Maynard  came  back  to  Sibley  and  the  old  regiment,  he  was  so  jolly  and 
content  that  every  man  was  welcomed  at  his  house,  and  it  was  really  a 
source  of  pride  and  pleasure  to  him  that  his  accomplished  wife  should 
find  any  of  his  young  officers  so  thoroughly  agreeable  as  she  pronounced 
Mr.  Jerrold.  Others  were  soldierly,  courteous,  well  bred,  but  he  had 
the  air  of  a  foreign  court  about  him,  she  privately  informed  her  lord ; 
and  it  seems,  indeed,  that  in  days  gone  by  Mr.  Jerrold's  father  had 
spent  many  years  in  France  and  Spain,  once  as  his  country's  represen- 
tative near  the  throne.  Though  the  father  died  long  before  the  boy 
was  out  of  his  knickerbockers,  he  had  left  the  impress  of  his  grand 
manner,  and  Jerrold,  to  women  of  any  age,  was  at  once  a  courtier  and 
a  knight.  But  the  colonel  never  saw  how  her  eyes  followed  the  tall 
young  officer  time  and  again.  There  were  women  who  soon  noted  it, 
and  one  of  them  said  it  was  such  a  yearning,  longing  look.  Was  Mrs. 
Maynard  really  happy  ?  they  asked  each  other.  Bid  she  really  want 
to  see  Alice  mate  with  him,  the  handsome,  the  dangerous,  the  selfish 
fellow  they  knew  him  to  be?  If  not,  could  anything  be  more  impru- 
dent than  that  they  should  be  thrown  together  as  they  were  being,  day 
after  day  ?    Had  Alice  wealth  of  her  own  ?     If  not,  did  the  mother 


782  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

know  that  nothing  would  tempt  Howard  Jerrold  into  an  alliance  with 
a  dowerless  daughter?  These,  and  many  more,  were  questions  that 
came  up  every  day.  The  garrison  could  talk  of  little  else ;  and  Alice 
Renwick  had  been  there  just  three  weeks,  and  was  the  acknowledged 
Queen  of  Hearts  at  Sibley,  when  the  rifle-competitions  began  again, 
and  a  great  array  of  officers  and  men  from  all  over  the  Northwest  came 
to  the  post  by  every  train,  and  their  canvas  tents  dotted  the  broad 
prairie  to  the  north. 

One  lovely  evening  in  August,  just  before  the  practice  began,  Col- 
onel Maynard  took  his  wife  to  drive  out  and  see  the  camp.  Mr.  Jer- 
rold and  Alice  Renwick  followed  on  horseback.  The  carriage  was 
surrounded  as  it  halted  near  the  range,  and  half  a  score  of  officers,  old 
and  young,  were  chatting  with  Mrs.  Maynard,  while  others  gathered 
.about  the  lovely  girl  who  sat  there  in  the  saddle.  There  came  march- 
ing up  from  the  railway  a  small  squad  of  soldiers,  competitors  arriving 
from  the  far  West.  Among  them — apparently  their  senior  non-com- 
missioned officer — was  a  tall  cavalry  sergeant,  superbly  built,  and  with 
a  bronzed  and  bearded  and  swarthy  face  that  seemed  to  tell  of  years  of 
campaigning  over  mountain  and  prairie.  They  were  all  men  of  perfect 
physique,  all  in  the  neat,  soldierly  fatigue-dress  of  the  regular  service, 
some  wearing  the  spotless  white  stripes  of  the  infantry,  others  the  less 
artistic  and  equally  destructible  yellow  of  the  cavalry.  Their  swinging 
stride,  erect  carriage,  and  clear  and  handsome  eyes  all  spoke  of  the  per- 
fection of  health  and  soldierly  development.  Curious  glances  were 
turned  to  them  as  they  advanced,  and  Miss  Renwick,  catching  sight  of 
the  party,  exclaimed, — 

"  Oh,  who  are  these  ?     And  what  a  tall  soldier  that  sergeant  is  !" 

"  That  sergeant.  Miss  Renwick,"  said  a  slow,  deliberate  voice,  "  is 
the  man  I  believe  will  knock  Mr.  Jerrold  out  of  the  first  prize.  That 
is  Sergeant  McLeod." 

As  though  he  heard  his  name  pronounced,  the  tall  cavalryman 
glanced  for  the  first  time  at  the  group,  brought  his  rifle  to  the  carry 
as  if  about  to  salute,  and  was  just  stepping  upon  the  roadside,  where 
he  came  in  full  view  of  the  occupants  of  the  carriage,  when  a  sudden 
pallor  shot  across  his  face,  and  he  plunged  heavily  forward  and  went 
down  like  a  shot.  Sympathetic  officers  and  comrades  surrounded  the 
prostrate  form  in  an  instant.  The  colonel  himself  sprang  from  his 
carriage  and  joined  the  group ;  a  blanket  was  quickly  brought  from  a 
neighboring  tent,  and  the  sergeant  was  borne  thither  and  laid  upon  a 
cot.     A  surgeon  felt  his  pulse  and  looked  inquiringly  around : 

"  Any  of  you  cavalrymen  know  him  well  ?  Has  he  been  affected 
this  way  before  ?" 

A  young  corporal  who  had  been  bending  anxiously  over  the  sergeant 
straightened  up  and  saluted  : 

"  I  know  him  well,  sir,  and  have  been  with  him  five  years.  He's 
only  had  one  sick  spell  in  all  that  time, — 'twas  just  like  this, — and  then 
he  told  me  he'd  been  sunstruck  once." 

"  This  is  no  case  of  sunstroke,"  said  the  doctor.  "  It  looks  more 
like  the  heart.     How  long  ago  was  the  attack  you  speak  of?" 

"  Three  years  ago  last  April,  sir.     I  remember  it  because  we'd  just 


FROM   THE  RANKS.  783 

got  into  Fort  Raines  after  a  long  scout.  He'd  been  the  solidest  man  in 
the  troop  all  through  the  cold  and  storm  and  snow  we  had  in  the 
mountains,  and  we  were  in  the  reading-room,  and  he'd  picked  up  a 
newspaper  and  was  reading  while  the  rest  of  us  were  talking  and 
laughing,  and,  first  thing  we  knew,  he  was  down  on  the  floor,  just  like 
he  was  to-night." 

"  Hm  !"  said  the  surgeon.  "  Yes.  That's  plenty,  steward.  Give 
him  that.  Raise  his  head  a  little,  corporal.  Now  he'll  come  round 
all  right." 

Driving  homeward  that  night.  Colonel  Maynard  musingly  re- 
marked,— 

"  Did  you  see  that  splendid  fellow  who  fainted  away  ?" 

"  No,"  answered  his  wife,  "  you  all  gathered  about  him  so  quickly 
and  carried  him  away.  I  could  not  even  catch  a  glimpse  of  him. 
But  he  had  recovered,  had  he  not?" 

"  Yes.  Still,  I  was  thinking  what  a  singular  fact  it  is  that  occa- 
sionally a  man  slips  through  the  surgeon's  examinations  with  such  a 
malady  as  this.  Now,  here  is  one  of  the  finest  athletes  and  shots  in 
the  whole  army,  a  man  who  has  been  through  some  hard  service  and 
stirring  fights,  has  won  a  tip-top  name  for  himself  and  was  on  the 
highroad  to  a  commission,  and  yet  this  will  block  him  eifectually." 

"  Why,  what  is  the  trouble?" 

"  Some  affection  of  the  heart.  Why  !  Halloo !  Stop,  driver ! 
Orderly,  jump  down  and  run  back  there.  Mrs.  Maynard  has  dropped 
her  fan. — What  was  it,  dear  ?"  he  asked,  anxiously.  "  You  started  ; 
and  you  are  white,  and  trembling." 

"  I — I  don't  know,  colonel.  Let  us  go  home.  It  will  be  over  in 
a  minute.  Where  are  Alice  and  Mr.  Jerrold?  Call  them,  please. 
She  must  not  be  out  riding  after  dark." 

But  they  were  not  in  sight ;  and  it  was  considerably  after  dark 
when  they  reached  the  fort.  Mr.  Jerrold  explained  that  his  horse  had 
picked  up  a  stone  and  he  had  had  to  walk  him  all  the  way. 

IV. 

There  was  no  sleep  for  Captain  Chester  the  rest  of  the  night.  He 
went  home,  threw  off  his  sword-belt,  and  seated  himself  in  a  big  easy- 
chair  before  his  fireplace,  deep  in  thought.  Once  or  twice  he  arose  and 
paced  restlessly  up  and  down  the  room,  as  he  had  done  in  his  excited 
talk  with  Rollins  some  few  hours  before.  Then  he  was  simply  angry 
and  argumentative, — or  declamatory.  Now  he  had  settled  down  into 
a  very  different  frame  of  mind.  He  seemed  awed, — stunned, — crushed. 
He  had  all  the  bearing  and  mien  of  one  who,  having  defiantly  pre- 
dicted a  calamity,  was  thunderstruck  by  the  verification  of  his  prophecy. 
In  all  his  determined  arraignment  of  Mr.  Jerrold,  in  all  the  harsh 
things  he  had  said  and  thought  of  him,  he  had  never  imagined  any 
such  depth  of  scoundrelism  as  the  revelations  of  the  night  foreshadowed. 
Chester  differed  from  many  of  his  brotherhood :  there  was  no  room  for 
rejoicing  in  his  heart  that  the  worst  he  had  ever  said  of  Jerrold  was 
unequal  to  the  apparent  truth.  He  took  no  comfort  to  his  soul  that 
those  who  called  him  cynical,  crabbed,  unjust,  even  malicious,  would 


784  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

now  be  compelled  to  admit  he  was  right  in  his  estimate.  Like  the  best 
of  us,  Chester  could  not  ordinarily  say  "  Vade  retroi'^  to  the  temptation 
to  think,  if  not  to  say,  "Didn't  I  tell  you  so?"  when  in  every-day 
aifairs  his  oft-disputed  views  were  proved  well  founded.  But  in  the 
face  of  such  a  catastrophe  as  now  appeared  engulfing  the  fair  fame  of 
his  regiment  and  the  honor  of  those  whom  his  colonel  held  dear, 
Chester  could  feel  only  dismay  and  grief.  What  was  his  duty  in  the 
light  of  the  discoveries  he  had  made  ?  To  the  best  of  his  belief,  he 
was  the  only  man  in  the  garrison  who  had  evidence  of  Jerrold's 
absence  from  his  own  quarters  and  of  the  presence  of  some  one  at  her 
window.  He  had  taken  prompt  measures  to  prevent  its  being  sus- 
pected by  others.  He  purposely  sent  his  guards  to  search  along  the 
cliff  in  the  opposite  direction  while  he  went  to  Jerrold's  room  and 
thence  back  to  remove  the  tell-tale  ladder.  Should  he  tell  any  one 
until  he  had  confronted  Jerrold  with  the  evidences  of  his  guilt,  and, 
wringing  from  him  his  resignation,  send  him  far  from  the  post  before 
handing  it  in  ?  Time  and  again  he  wished  Frank  Armitage  were  here. 
The  youngest  captain  in  the  regiment,  Armitage  had  been  for  years  its 
adjutant  and  deep  in  the  confidence  of  Colonel  Maynard.  He  was  a 
thorough  soldier,  a  strong,  self-reliant,  courageous  man,  and  one  for 
whom  Chester  had  ever  felt  a  warm  esteem.  Armitage  was  on  leave 
of  absence,  however, — had  been  away  some  time  on  account  of  family 
matters,  and  would  not  return,  it  was  known,  until  he  had  effected  the 
removal  of  his  mother  and  sister  to  the  new  home  he  had  purchased 
for  them  in  the  distant  East.  It  was  to  his  company  that  Jerrold  had 
been  promoted,  and  there  was  friction  from  the  very  week  that  the 
handsome  subaltern  joined. 

Armitage  had  long  before  "  taken  his  measure,"  and  was  in  no  wise 
pleased  that  so  lukewarm  a  soldier  should  have  come  to  him  as  senior 
subaltern.  They  had  a  very  plain  talk,  for  Armitage  was  straight- 
forward as  a  dart,  and  then,  as  Jerrold  showed  occasional  lapses,  the 
captain  shut  down  on  some  of  his  most  cherished  privileges,  and, 
to  the  indignation  of  society,  the  failure  of  Mr.  Jerrold  to  appear  at 
one  or  two  gatherings  where  he  was  confidently  expected  was  speedily 
laid  at  his  captain's  door.  The  recent  death  of  his  father  kept  Armi- 
tage from  appearing  in  public,  and,  as  neither  he  nor  the  major  (who 
commanded  the  regiment  while  Maynard  was  abroad)  vouchsafed  the 
faintest  explanation,  society  was  allowed  to  form  its  own  conclusions, 
and  did, — to  the  effect  that  Mr.  Jerrold  was  a  wronged  and  persecuted 
man.  It  was  just  as  the  Maynards  arrived  at  Sibley  that  Armitage 
departed  on  his  leave,  and,  to  his  unspeakable  bliss,  Mr.  Jerrold  suc- 
ceeded to  the  command  of  his  company.  This  fact,  coupled  with  the 
charming  relations  which  were  straightway  established  with  the  colonel's 
family,  placed  him  in  a  position  of  independence  and  gave  him  oppor- 
tunities he  had  never  known  before.  It  was  speedily  evident  that  he 
was  neglecting  his  military  duties, — that  Company  B  was  running 
down  much  faster  than  Armitage  had  built  it  up, — and  yet  no  man  felt 
like  speaking  of  it  to  the  colonel,  who  saw  it  only  occasionally  on  dress- 
parade.  Chester  had  just  about  determined  to  write  to  Armitage  him- 
self and  suggest  his  speedy  return,  when  this  eventful  night  arrived. 


FROM   THE  RANKS.  785 

Now  he  fully  made  up  his  mind  that  it  must  be  done  at  once,  and  had 
seated  himself  at  his  desk,  when  the  roar  of  the  sunrise  gun  and  the 
blare  of  the  bugles  warned  him  that  reveille  had  come  and  he  must  again 
go  to  his  guard.  Before  he  returned  to  his  quarters  another  complica- 
tion, even  more  embarrassing,  had  arisen,  and  the  letter  to  Armitage 
was  postponed. 

He  had  received  the  "  present"  of  his  guard  and  verified  the  pres- 
ence of  all  his  prisoners,  when  he  saw  Major  Sloat  still  standing  out  in 
the  middle  of  the  parade,  where  the  adjutant  usually  received  the  re- 
ports of  the  roll-calls.  Several  company  officers,  having  made  their 
reports,  were  scurrying  back  to  quarters  for  another  snooze  before  break- 
fast-time or  to  get  their  cup  of  coffee  before  going  out  to  the  range. 
Chester  strolled  over  towards  him. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Sloat?" 

"Nothing  much.  The  colonel  told  me  to  receive  the  reveille  re- 
ports for  Hoyt  this  week.     He's  on  general  court-martial." 

"Yes,  I  know  all  that.     I  mean,  what  are  you  waiting  for?" 

"  Mr.  Jerrold  again.     There's  no  report  from  his  company." 

"  Have  you  sent  to  wake  him  ?" 

"  No ;  I'll  go  myself,  and  do  it  thoroughly,  too."  And  the  little 
major  turned  sharply  away  and  walked  direct  to  the  low  range  of 
bachelor  quarters,  dove  under  the  piazza,  and  into  the  green  door- 
way. 

Hardly  knowing  how  to  explain  his  action,  Chester  quickly  fol- 
lowed, and  in  less  than  a  minute  was  standing  in  the  self-same  parlor 
which,  by  the  light  of  a  flickering  match,  he  had  searched  two  hours 
before.  Here  he  halted  and  listened,  while  Sloat  pushed  on  into  the 
bedroom  and  was  heard  vehemently  apostrophizing  some  sleeper : 

"  Does  the  government  pay  you  for  this  sort  of  thing,  I  want  to 
know?  Get  up,  Jerrold!  This  is  the  second  time  you've  cut  reveille 
in  ten  days.  Get  up,  I  say !"  And  the  major  was  vigorously  shaking 
at  something,  for  the  bed  creaked  and  groaned. 

"  Wake  up !  I  say,  I'm  blowed  if  I'm  going  to  get  up  here  day 
after  day  and  have  you  sleeping.  Wake,  Nicodemus !  Wake,  you 
snoozing,  snoring,  open-mouthed  masher.     Come,  now ;  I  mean  it." 

A  drowsy,  disgusted  yawn  and  stretch  finally  rewarded  his  efforts. 
Mr.  Jerrold  at  last  opened  his  eyes,  rolled  over,  yawned  sulkily  again, 
and  tried  to  evade  his  persecutor,  but  to  no  purpose.  Like  a  little 
terrier,  Sloat  hung  on  to  him  and  worried  and  shook. 

"  Oh,  don't !  damn  it,  don't !"  growled  the  victim.  "  What  do  you 
want,  anyway  ?     Has  that  infernal  reveille  gone  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  you're  absent  again,  and  no  report  from  B  Company. 
By  the  holy  poker,  if  you  don't  turn  out  and  get  it  and  report  to  me 
on  the  parade  I'll  spot  the  whole  gang  absent,  and  then  no  matinee  for 
you  to-day,  my  buck.  Come,  out  with  you !  I  mean  it.  Hall  says 
you  and  he  have  an  engagement  in  town ;  and  'pon  my  soul  I'll  bust 
it  if  you  don't  come  out." 

And  so,  growling  and  complaining,  and  yet  half  laughing,  Adonis 
rolled  from  his  couch  and  began  to  get  into  his  clothes.  Chester's 
blood  ran  cold,  then  boiled.     Think  of  a  man  who  could  laugh  like 


786  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

that, — and  remember !  When,  how,  had  he  returned  to  the  house  ? 
Listen  ! 

"  Confound  you,  Sloat,  I  wouldn't  rout  you  out  in  this  shabby  way. 
Why  couldn't  you  let  a  man  sleep  ?     I'm  tired  half  to  death." 

"  What  have  you  done  to  tire  you  ?  Slept  all  yesterday  afternoon, 
and  danced  perhaps  a  dozen  times  at  the  doctor's  last  night.  You've 
had  more  sleep  than  I've  had,  begad !  You  took  Miss  Renwick  home 
before  'twas  over,  and  mean  it  was  of  you,  too,  with  all  the  fellows 
that  wanted  to  dance  with  her." 

"  That  wasn't  my  fault :  Mrs.  Maynard  made  her  promise  to  be 
home  at  twelve.  You  old  cackler,  that's  what  sticks  in  your  crop 
yet.  You  are  persecuting  me  because  they  like  me  so  much  better  than 
they  do  you,"  he  went  on,  laughingly  now.  "  Come,  now,  Sloat,  con- 
fess, it  is  all  because  you're  jealous.  You  couldn't  have  that  picture, 
and  I  could," 

Chester  fairly  started.  He  had  urgent  need  to  see  this  young 
gallant, — he  was  staying  for  that  purpose, — but  should  he  listen  to 
further  talk  like  this  ?  Too  late  to  move,  for  Sloat's  answer  came  like 
a  shot : 

"  I  bet  you  you  never  could  !" 

"  But  didn't  I  tell  you  I  had  ?— a  week  ago  ?" 

"  Ay,  but  I  didn't  believe  it.     You  couldn't  show  it !" 

"  Pshaw,  man  !  Look  here.  Stop,  though  !  Remember,  on  your 
honor,  you  never  tell." 

"  On  my  honor,  of  course." 

"  Well,  there !" 

A  drawer  was  opened.  Chester  heard  a  gulp  of  dismay,  of  genuine 
astonishment  and  conviction  mixed,  as  Sloat  muttered  some  half-articu- 
late words  and  then  came  into  the  front  room.  Jerrold  followed,  caught 
sight  of  Chester,  and  stopped  short,  with  sudden  and  angry  change  of 
color. 

"  I  did  not  know  you  were  here,"  he  said. 

"  It  was  to  find  where  you  were  that  I  came,"  was  the  quiet  answer. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  Sloat  turned  and  looked  at  the 
two  men  in  utter  surprise.  Up  to  this  time  he  had  considered  Jerrold's 
absence  from  reveille  as  a  mere  dereliction  of  duty  which  was  ascriba- 
ble  to  the  laziness  and  indiiference  of  the  young  officer.  So  far  as 
lay  in  his  power,  he  meant  to  make  him  attend  more  strictly  to  busi- 
ness, and  had  therefore  come  to  his  quarters  and  stirred  him  up.  But 
there  was  no  thought  of  any  serious  trouble  in  his  mind.  His  talk 
had  all  been  roughly  good-humored  until — until  that  bet  was  men- 
tioned, and  then  it  became  earnest.  Now,  as  he  glanced  from  one  man 
to  the  other,  he  saw  in  an  instant  that  something  new — something  of 
unusual  gravity — was  impending.  Chester,  buttoned  to  the  throat  in 
his  dark  uniform,  accurately  gloved  and  belted,  with  pale,  set,  almost 
haggard  face,  was  standing  by  the  centre-table  under  the  drop-light. 
Jerrold,  only  half  dressed,  his  feet  thrust  into  slippers,  his  fingers 
nervously  working  at  the  studs  of  his  dainty  white  shirt,  had  stopped 
short  at  his  bedroom  door,  and,  with  features  that  grew  paler  every 
second  and  a  dark  scowl  on  his  brow,  was  glowering  at  Chester. 


FROM   THE  RANKS.  787 

"  Since  when  lias  it  been  the  duty  of  the  officer  of  the  day  to  come 
around  and  hunt  up  officers  who  don't  happen  to  be  out  at  reveille  ?" 
he  asked. 

"  It  is  not  your  absence  from  reveille  I  want  explained,  Mr.  Jerrold," 
was  the  cold  and  deliberate  answer.  "  I  wanted  you  at  3.30  this  morn- 
ing, and  you  were  not  and  had  not  been  here." 

An  unmistakable  start  and  shock ;  a  quick,  nervous,  hunted  glance 
around  the  room,  so  cold  and  pallid  in  the  early  light  of  the  August 
morning ;  a  clutch  of  Jerrold's  slim  brown  hand  at  the  bared  throat. 
But  he  rallied  gamely,  strode  a  step  forward,  and  looked  his  superior 
full  in  the  face.  Sloat  marked  the  effi)rt  with  which  he  cleared  away 
the  huskiness  that  seemed  to  clog  his  larynx,  but  admired  the  spunk 
with  which  the  young  officer  returned  the  senior's  shot : 

"  What  is  your  authority  here,  I  would  like  to  know  ?  What 
business  has  the  officer  of  the  day  to  want  me  or  any  other  man  not  on 
guard  ?  Captain  Chester,  you  seem  to  forget  that  I  am  no  longer  your 
second  lieutenant,  and  that  I  am  a  company  commander  like  yourself. 
Do  you  come  by  Colonel  Maynard's  order  to  search  my  quarters  and 
question  me  ?  If  so,  say  so  at  once ;  if  not,  get  out."  And  Jerrold's 
face  was  growing  black  with  wrath,  and  his  big  lustrous  eyes  were  wide 
awake  now  and  fairly  snapping. 

Chester  leaned  upon  the  table  and  deliberated  a  moment.  He  stood 
there  coldly,  distrustfully  eying  the  excited  lieutenant,  then  turned  to 
Sloat : 

"  I  will  be  responsible  for  the  roll-call  of  Company  B  this  morning, 
Sloat.  I  have  a  matter  of  grave  importance  to  bring  up  to  this — this 
gentleman,  and  it  is  of  a  private  nature.  Will  you  let  me  see  him 
alone?" 

"  Sloat,"  said  Jerrold,  "  don't  go  yet.  I  want  you  to  stay.  These 
are  my  quarters,  and  I  recognize  your  right  to  come  here  in  search  of 
me,  since  I  was  not  at  reveille ;  but  I  want  a  witness  here  to  bear  me 
out.  I'm  too  amazed  yet — too  confounded  by  this  intrusion  of  Captain 
Chester's  to  grasp  the  situation.  I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing  as  this. 
Explain  it,  if  you  can." 

"  Mr.  Jerrold,  what  I  have  to  ask  or  say  to  you  concerns  you  alone. 
It  is  not  an  official  matter.  It  is  as  man  to  man  I  waut  to  see  you, 
alone  and  at  once.     Now  will  you  let  Major  Sloat  retire  ?" 

Silence  for  a  moment.  The  angry  flush  on  Jerrold's  face  was  dying 
away,  and  in  its  place  an  ashen  pallor  was  spreading  from  throat  to 
brow ;  his  lips  were  twitching  ominously.  Sloat  looked  in  consterna- 
tion at  the  sudden  change. 

" Shall  I  go?"  he  finally  asked. 

Jerrold  looked  long,  fixedly,  searchingly  in  the  set  face  of  the  officer 
of  the  day,  breathing  hard  and  heavily.  What  he  saw  there  Sloat  could 
not  imagine.  At  last  his  hand  dropped  by  his  side ;  he  made  a  little 
motion  with  it,  a  slight  wave  towards  the  door,  and  again  dropped  it 
nervously.  His  lips  seemed  to  frame  the  word  "  Go,"  but  he  never 
glanced  at  the  man  whom  a  moment  before  he  so  masterfully  bade  to 
stay ;  and  Sloat,  sorely  puzzled,  left  the  room. 

Not  until  his  footsteps  had  died  out  of  hearing  did  Chester  speak : 


788  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

"  How  soon  can  you  leave  the  post  ?" 

"  I  don't  understand  you." 

"How  soon  can  you  pack  up  what   you  need  to  take  and — get 


away 


9" 


"  Get  away  where?     What  on  earth  do  you  mean?" 

"  You  must  know  what  I  mean !  You  must  know  that  after  last 
night's  work  you  quit  the  service  at  once  and  forever." 

"  I  don't  know  anything  of  the  kind ;  and  I  defy  you  to  prove  the 
faintest  thing."  But  Jerrold's  fingers  were  twitching,  and  his  eyes  had 
lost  their  light. 

"  Do  you  suppose  I  did  not  recognize  you  ?"  asked  Chester. 

"  When  ? — where  ?"  gulped  Jerrold. 

"  When  I  seized  you  and  you  struck  me !" 

"  I  never  struck  you.     I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"  My  God,  man,  let  us  end  this  useless  fencing.  The  evidence  I 
have  of  your  last  night's  scoundrelism  would  break  the  strongest  record. 
For  the  regiment's  sake, — for  the  colonel's  sake, — let  us  have  no  public 
scandal.  It's  awful  enough  as  the  thing  stands.  Write  your  resignation, 
give  it  to  me,  and  leave, — before  breakfast  if  you  can." 

"  I've  done  nothing  to  resign  for.  You  know  perfectly  well  I 
haven't." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  such  a  crime — that  a  woman's  ruin  and  disgrace 
— isn't  enough  to  drive  you  from  the  service  ?"  asked  Chester,  tingling 
in  every  nerve  and  longing  to  clinch  the  shapely,  swelling  throat  in  his 
clutching  fingers.  "  God  of  heaven,  Jerrold  !  are  you  dead  to  all  sense 
of  decency?" 

"  Captain  Chester,  I  won't  be  bullied  this  way.  I  may  not  be  im- 
maculate, but  no  man  on  earth  shall  talk  to  me  like  this  !  I  deny  your 
insinuations.  I've  done  nothing  to  warrant  your  words,  even  if — if  you 
did  come  sneaking  around  here  last  night  and  find  me  absent.  You 
can't  prove  a  thing.     You " 

"  AVhat !  When  I  saw  you, — almost  caught  you  !  By  heaven  ! 
I  wish  the  sentry  had  killed  you  then  and  there.  I  never  dreamed  of 
such  hardihood." 

"  You've  done  nothing  but  dream.  By  Jove,  I  believe  you're  sleep- 
walking yet.  What  on  earth  do  you  mean  by  catching  and  killing  me  ? 
'Pon  my  soul  I  reckon  you're  crazy.  Captain  Chester."  And  color  was 
gradually  coming  back  again  to  Jerrold's  face,  and  confidence  to  his 
tone. 

"  Enough  of  this,  Mr.  Jerrold.  Knowing  what  you  and  I  both 
know,  do  you  refuse  to  hand  me  your  resignation  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  do." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  deny  to  me  where  I  saw  you  last  night  ?" 

"  I  deny  your  right  to  question  me.  I  deny  anything, — ever^iliing. 
I  believe  you  simply  thought  you  had  a  clue  and  could  make  me  tell. 
Suppose  I  was  out  last  night.  I  don't  believe  you  know  the  faintest 
thing  about  it." 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  report  the  whole  thing  to  the  colonel  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  don't.  Naturally,  I  want  him  to  know  nothing 
about  my  being  out  of  quarters ;  and  it's  a  thing  that  no  officer  would 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  789 

think  of  reporting  another  for.  You'll  only  win  the  contempt  of  every 
gentleman  in  the  regiment  if  you  do  it.  What  good  will  it  do  you  ? — 
Keep  me  from  going  to  town  for  a  few  days,  I  suppose.  What  earthly 
business  is  it  of  yours,  anyway  ?" 

"  Jerrold,  I  can  stand  this  no  longer.  I  ought  to  shoot  you  in  your 
tracks,  I  believe.  You've  brought  ruin  and  misery  to  the  home  of  my 
warmest  friend,  and  dishonor  to  the  whole  service,  and  you  talk  of  two 
or  three  days'  stoppage  from  going  to  town.  If  I  can't  bring  you  to 
your  senses,  by  God  !  the  colonel  shall."  And  he  wheeled  and  left  the 
room. 

For  a  moment  Jerrold  stood  stunned  and  silent.  It  was  useless  to 
attempt  reply.  The  captain  was  far  down  the  walk  when  he  sprang  to 
the  door  to  call  him  again.  Then,  hurrying  back  to  the  bedroom,  he 
hastily  dressed,  muttering  angrily  and  anxiously  to  himself  as  he  did 
so.  He  was  thinking  deeply,  too,  and  every  movement  betrayed  ner- 
vousness and  trouble.  Returning  to  the  front  door,  he  gazed  out  upon 
the  parade,  then  took  his  forage-cap  and  walked  rapidly  down  towards 
the  adjutant's  office.  The  orderly  bugler  was  tilted  up  in  a  chair,  lean- 
ing half  asleep  against  the  whitewaslied  front,  but  his  was  a  weasel  nap, 
for  he  sprang  up  and  saluted  as  the  young  officer  approached. 

"Where  did  Major  Sloat  go,  orderly?"  was  the  hurried  question. 

"  Over  towards  the  stables,  sir.  Him  and  Captain  Chester  was 
here  together,  and  they're  just  gone." 

"  Run  over  to  the  quarters  of  B  Company  and  tell  Merrick  I  want 
him  right  away.  Tell  him  to  come  to  my  quarters."  And  thither  Mr. 
Jerrold  returned,  seated  himself  at  his  desk,  wrote  several  lines  of  a  note, 
tore  it  into  fragments,  began  again,  wrote  another  which  seemed  not  en- 
tirely satisfactory,  and  was  in  the  midst  of  a  third  when  there  came  a 
quick  step  and  a  knock  at  the  door.  Opening  the  shutters,  he  glanced 
out  of  the  window.  A  gust  of  wind  sent  some  of  the  papers  whirling 
and  flying,  and  the  bedroom  door  banged  shut,  but  not  before  some  few 
half-sheets  of  paper  had  fluttered  out  upon  the  parade,  where  other  little 
flurries  of  the  morning  breeze  sent  them  sailing  over  towards  the  colonel's 
quarters.  Anxious  only  for  the  coming  of  Merrick  and  no  one  else,  Mr. 
Jerrold  no  sooner  saw  who  was  at  the  front  door  than  he  closed  the 
shutters,  called,  "  Come  in  !"  and  a  short,  squat,  wiry  little  man,  dressed 
in  the  fatigue-uniform  of  the  infantry,  stood  at  the  door-way  to  the  hall. 

"  Come  in  here,  Merrick,"  said  the  lieutenant,  and  Merrick  came. 

"  How  much  is  it  you  owe  me  now  ? — thirty-odd  dollars,  I  think  ?" 

"  I  believe  it  is,  lieutenant,"  answered  the  man,  with  shifting  eyes 
and  general  uneasiness  of  mien. 

"  You  are  not  ready  to  pay  it,  I  suppose ;  and  you  got  it  from  me 
when  we  left  Fort  Raines,  to  help  you  out  of  that  scrape  there." 

The  soldier  looked  down  and  made  no  answer. 

"  Merrick,  I  want  a  note  taken  to  town  at  once.  I  want  you  to 
take  it  and  get  it  to  its  address  before  eight  o'clock.  I  want  you  to  say 
no  word  to  a  soul.  Here's  ten  dollars.  Hire  old  Murphy's  horse 
across  the  river  and  go.  If  you  are  put  in  the  guard-house  when  you 
get  back,  don't  say  a  word  ;  if  you  are  tried  by  garrison  court  for 
crossing  the  bridge  or  absence  without  leave,  plead  guilty,  make  no 


790  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

defence,  and  I'll  pay  you  double  your  fine  and  let  you  off  the  thirty 
dollars.  But  if  you  fail  me,  or  tell  a  soul  of  your  errand,  I'll  write  to 
— you  know  who,  at  Raines.     Do  you  understand,  and  agree  ?" 

"  I  do.     Yessir." 

"  Go  and  get  ready,  and  be  here  in  ten  minutes." 

Meantime,  Captain  Chester  had  followed  Sloat  to  the  adjutant's 
office.  He  was  boiling  over  with  indignation  which  he  hardly  knew 
how  to  control.  He  found  the  gray-moustached  subaltern  tramping  in 
great  perplexity  up  and  down  the  room,  and  the  instant  he  entered  was 
greeted  with  the  inquiry, — 

"  What's  gone  wrong  ?     What's  Jerrold  been  doing  ?" 

"  Don't  ask  me  any  questions,  Sloat,  but  answer.  It  is  a  matter 
of  honor.      What  was  your  bet  with  Jerrold  ?" 

"  I  oughtn't  to  tell  that,  Chester.  Surely  it  cannot  be  a  matter 
mixed  up  with  this." 

"  I  can't  explain,  Sloat.  What  I  ask  is  unavoidable.  Tell  me 
about  that  bet." 

"  Why,  he  was  so  superior  and  airy,  you  know,  and  was  trying  to 
make  me  feel  that  he  was  so  much  more  intimate  with  them  all  at  the 
colonel's,  and  that  he  could  have  that  picture  for  the  mere  asking ;  and 
I  got  mad,  and  bet  him  he  never  could." 

"  Was  that  the  day  you  shook  hands  on  it  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  And  that  was  her  picture — the  picture,  then — he  showed  you  this 
morning." 

"  Chester,  you  heard  the  conversation :  you  were  there :  you  know 
that  I'm  on  honor  not  to  tell." 

"  Yes,  I  know.     That's  quite  enough." 

V. 

Before  seven  o'clock  that  same  morning  Captain  Chester  had  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  only  one  course  was  left  open  for  him.  After  the 
brief  talk  with  Sloat  at  the  office  he  had  increased  the  perplexity  and 
distress  of  that  easily-muddled  soldier  by  requesting  his  company  in  a 
brief  visit  to  the  stables  and  corrals.  A  "  square"  and  reliable  old 
veteran  was  the  quartermaster  sergeant  who  had  charge  of  those  es- 
tablishments ;  Chester  had  known  him  for  years,  and  his  fidelity  and 
honesty  were  matters  the  officers  of  his  former  regiment  could  not  too 
highly  commend.  When  Sergeant  Parks  made  an  official  statement 
there  was  no  shaking  its  solidity.  He  slept  in  a  little  box  of  a  house 
close  by  the  entrance  to  the  main  stable,  in  which  were  kept  the  private 
horses  of  several  of  the  officers,  and  among  them  Mr.  Jerrold's ;  and 
it  was  his  boast  that,  day  or  night,  no  horse  left  that  stable  without  his 
knowledge.  The  old  man  was  superintending  the  morning  labors  of 
the  stable-hands,  and  looked  up  in  surprise  at  so  early  a  visit  from  the 
officer  of  the  day. 

"Were  you  here  all  last  night,  sergeant?"  was  Chester's  abrupt 
question. 

"  Certainly,  sir,  and  up  until  one  o'clock  or  more." 


FROM   THE  RANKS.  791 

"  Were  any  horses  out  during  the  night, — any  officers'  horses,  I 
mean  ?" 

"  No,  sir,  not  one." 

"  I  thought  possibly  some  officers  might  have  driven  or  ridden  to 
town." 

"  No,  sir.  The  only  horses  that  crossed  this  threshold  going  out 
last  night  were  Mr.  Sutton's  team  from  town.  They  were  put  up  here 
until  near  one  o'clock,  and  then  the  doctor  sent  over  for  them.  I 
locked  up  right  after  that,  and  can  swear  nothing  else  went  out." 

Chester  entered  the  stable  and  looked  curiously  around.  Presently 
his  eye  lighted  on  a  tall,  rangy  bay  horse  that  was  being  groomed  in  a 
wide  stall  near  the  door-way. 

"  That's  Mr.  Jerrold's  Koderick,  isn't  it  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir.  He's  fresh  as  a  daisy,  too, — hasn't  been  out  for  three 
days, — and  Mr.  Jerrold's  going  to  drive  the  dog-cart  this  morning." 

Chester  turned  away. 

"  Sloat,"  said  he,  as  they  left  the  stable,  "  if  Mr.  Jerrold  was  away 
from  the  post  last  night, — and  you  heard  me  say  he  was  out  of  his 
quarters, — could  he  have  gone  any  way  except  afoot,  after  what  you 
heard  Parks  say  ?" 

"Gone  in  the  Suttons'  outfit,  I  suppose,"  was  Sloat's  cautious 
answer. 

"In  which  event  he  would  have  been  seen  by  the  sentry  at  the 
bridge,  would  he  not?" 

"  Ought  to  have  been,  certainly." 

"  Then  we'll  go  back  to  the  guard-house."  And,  wonderingly  and 
uncomfortably,  Sloat  followed.  He  had  long  since  begun  to  wish  he 
had  held  his  peace  and  said  nothing  about  the  confounded  roll-call. 
He  hated  rows  of  any  kind.  He  didn't  like  Jerrold,  but  he  would 
have  crawled  ventre  cl  terre  across  the  wide  parade  sooner  than  see  a 
scandal  in  the  regiment  he  loved ;  and  it  was  becoming  apparent  to  his 
sluggish  faculties  that  it  was  no  mere  matter  of  absence  from  quarters 
that  w^as  involving  Jerrold.  Chester  was  all  aflame  over  that  picture- 
business,  he  remembered,  and  the  whole  drift  of  his  present  inves- 
tigation was  to  prove  that  Jerrold  w^as  not  absent  from  the  post,  but 
absent  only  from  his  quarters.  If  so,  where  had  he  spent  his  time 
until  nearly  four  ?  Sloat's  heart  was  heavy  with  vague  apprehension. 
He  knew  that  Jerrold  had  borne  Alice  Renwick  away  from  the  party 
at  an  unusually  early  hour  for  such  things  to  break  up.  He  knew 
that  he  and  others  had  protested  against  such  desertion,  but  she  de- 
clared it  could  not  be  helped.  He  remembered  another  thing, — a 
matter  that  he  thought  of  at  the  time,  only  from  another  point  of  view. 
It  now  seemed  to  have  significance  bearing  on  this  very  matter;  for 
Chester  suddenly  asked, — 

"  Wasn't  it  rather  odd  that  Miss  Beaubien  was  not  here  at  the 
dance  ?  She  has  never  missed  one,  seems  to  me,  since  Jerrold  began 
spooning  with  her  last  year." 

"  Why,  she  was  here." 

"  She  was  ?  Are  you  sure  ?  Rollins  never  spoke  of  it ;  and  we 
had  been  talking  of  her.     I  inferred  from  what  he  said  that  she  was 


792  '  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

not  there  at  all.  And  I  saw  her  drive  homeward  with  her  mother 
riglit  after  parade :  so  it  didn't  occur  to  rae  that  she  could  have  come 
out  again,  all  that  distance,  in  time  for  the  dance.  Singular !  Why 
shouldn't  Rollins  have  told  me  ?" 

Sloat  grinned :  a  dreary  sort  of  smile  it  was,  too.  "  You  go  into 
society  so  seldom  you  don't  see  these  things.  I've  more  than  half  sus- 
pected Rollins  of  being  quite  ready  to  admire  Miss  Beaubien  himself; 
and  since  Jerrold  dropped  her  he  has  had  plenty  of  opportunity." 

"  Great  guns  !  I  never  thought  of  it !  If  I'd  known  she  was  to 
be  there  I'd  have  gone  myself  last  night.  How  did  she  behave  to 
Miss  Renwick  ?" 

"  Why,  sweet  and  smiling,  and  chipper  as  you  please.  If  anything, 
I  think  Miss  Renwick  was  cold  and  distant  to  her.  I  couldn't  make 
it  out  at  all." 

"  And  did  Jerrold  dance  with  her  ?" 

"  Once,  I  think,  and  they  had  a  talk  out  on  the  piazza, — just  a 
minute.  I  happened  to  be  at  the  door,  and  couldn't  help  seeing  it ; 
and  what  got  me  was  this  :  Mr.  Hall  came  out  with  Miss  Renwick  on 
his  arm ;  they  were  chatting  and  laughing  as  they  passed  me,  but  the 
moment  she  caught  sight  of  Jerrold  and  Miss  Beaubien  she  stopped, 
and  said,  '  I  think  I  won't  stay  out  here  ;  it's  too  chilly,'  or  something 
like  it,  and  went  right  in ;  and  then  Jerrold  dropped  Miss  Beaubien 
and  went  after  her.  He  just  handed  the  young  lady  over  to  me,  saying 
he  was  engaged  for  next  dance,  and  skipped." 

"  How  did  she  like  that?     Wasn't  she  furious?" 

"  No.  That's  another  thing  that  got  me.  She  smiled  after  him,  all 
sweetness,  and — well,  she  did  say,  '  I  count  upon  you, — you'll  be  there,' 
and  he  nodded.     Oh,  she  was  bright  as  a  button  after  that." 

"  What  did  she  mean  ? — be  '  where,'  do  you  suppose  ?  Sloat,  this  all 
means  more  to  me,  and  to  us  all,  than  I  can  explain." 

"  I  don't  know.     I  can't  imagine." 

"  Was  it  to  see  her  again  that  night  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  at  all.  If  it  was,  he  fooled  her,  for  he  never  went 
near  her  again.     Rollins  put  her  in  the  carriage." 

"  Whose  ?     Did  she  come  out  with  the  Suttons  ?" 

"  AVhy,  certainly.     I  thought  you  knew  that." 

"  And  neither  old  Madame  Beaubien  nor  Mrs.  Sutton  with  them  ? 
What  was  the  old  squaw  thinking  of?" 

By  this  time  they  had  neared  the  guard-house,  where  several  of  the 
men  were  seated  awaiting  the  call  for  the  next  relief.  All  arose  at 
the  shout  of  the  sentry  on  Number  One,  turning  out  the  guard  for  the 
officer  of  the  day.  Chester  made  hurried  and  impatient  acknowledg- 
ment of  the  salute,  and  called  to  the  sergeant  to  send  him  the  sentry 
who  was  at  the  bridge  at  one  o'clock.  It  turned  out  to  be  a  young 
soldier  who  had  enlisted  at  the  post  only  six  months  before  and  was 
already  known  as  one  of  the  most  intelligent  and  promising  candidates- 
for  a  corjioralship  in  the  garrison. 

"  Were  you  on  duty  at  the  bridge  at  one  o'clock,  Carey  ?"  asked  the 
captain. 

"  I  was^  sir.     My  relief  went  on  at  11.45  and  came  off  at  1.45." 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  793 

"  What  persons  passed  your  post  during  that  time  ?" 

"  There  was  a  squad  or  two  of  men  coming  back  from  town  on  pass. 
I  halted  them,  sir,  and  Corporal  Murray  came  down  and  passed  them  in." 

"  I  don't  mean  coming  from  town.     Who  went  the  other  way  ?" 

"  Only  one  carriage,  sir, — Mr.  Sutton's." 

"  Could  you  see  who  were  in  it  ?" 

"  Certainly,  sir :  it  was  right  under  the  lamp-post  this  end  of  the 
bridge  that  I  stood  when  I  challenged.  Lieutenant  Rollins  answered 
for  them  and  passed  them  out.  He  was  sitting  beside  Mr.  Sutton  as 
they  drove  up,  then  jumped  out  and  gave  me  the  countersign  and  bade 
them  good-night  right  there." 

"  Rollins  again,"  thought  Chester.  "  Why  did  he  keep  this  from 
me?" 

"  Who  were  in  the  carriage  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Mr.  Sutton,  sir,  on  the  front  seat,  driving,  and  two  young  ladies 
on  the  back  seat." 

"Nobody  else?" 

"  Not  a  soul,  sir.  I  could  see  in  it  plain  as  day.  One  lady  was 
Miss  Sutton,  and  the  other  Miss  Beaubien.  I  know  I  was  surprised  at 
seeing  the  latter,  because  she  drove  home  in  her  own  carriage  last  even- 
ing right  after  parade.  I  was  on  post  there  at  that  hour  too,  sir.  The 
second  relief  is  on  from  5.45  to  7.45." 

"  That  will  do,  Carey.     I  see  your  relief  is  forming  now." 

As  the  officers  walked  away  and  Sloat  silently  plodded  along  beside 
his  dark-browed  senior,  the  latter  turned  to  hira : 

"  I  should  say  that  there  was  no  way  in  which  Mr.  Jerrold  could 
have  gone  townwards  last  night.     Should  not  you  2" 

"  He  might  have  crossed  the  bridge  while  the  third  relief  was  on, 
and  got  a  horse  at  the  other  side." 

"  He  didn't  do  that,  Sloat.  I  had  already  questioned  the  sentry  on 
that  relief.    It  was  the  third  that  I  inspected  and  visited  this  morning." 

"  Well,  how  do  you  know  he  wanted  to  go  to  town  ?  Why  couldn't 
he  have  gone  up  the  river,  or  out  to  the  range  ?  Perhaps  there  was  a 
little  game  of  '  draw'  out  at  camp." 

"  There  was  no  light  in  camp,  much  less  a  little  game  of  draw, 
after  eleven  o'clock.  You  know  well  enough  that  there  is  nothing  of 
that  kind  going  on  with  Gaines  in  command.  That  isn't  Jerrold's 
game,  even  if  those  fellows  were  bent  on  ruining  their  eyesight  and 
nerve  and  spoiling  the  chance  of  getting  the  men  on  the  division  and 
army  teams.     I  wish  it  were  his  game,  instead  of  what  it  is  !" 

"  Still,  Chester,  he  may  have  been  out  in  the  country  somewhere. 
You  seem  bent  on  the  conviction  he  was  up  to  mischief  here,  around 
this  post.  I  won't  ask  you  what  you  mean  ;  but  there's  more  than  one 
way  of  getting  to  town  if  a  man  wants  to  very  bad." 

"  How  ?  Of  course  he  can  take  a  skiff  and  row  down  the  river ; 
but  he'd  never  be  back  in  time  for  reveille.  There  goes  six  o'clock, 
and  I  must  get  home  and  shave  and  think  this  over.  Keep  your  own 
counsel,  no  matter  who  asks  you.  If  you  hear  any  questions  or  talk 
about  shooting  last  night,  you  know  nothing,  heard  nothing,  and  saw 
nothing." 

Vol.  XL.— 52 


794  -       FROM  THE  RANKS. 

"  Shooting  last  night !"  exclaimed  Sloat,  all  agog  with  eagerness 
and  excitement  now.     "  Where  was  it?     Who  was  it?" 

But  Chester  turned  a  deaf  ear  upon  him,  and  walked  away.  He 
wanted  to  see  Rollins,  and  went  straight  home. 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  Miss  Beaubien  was  out  here  last  night  ?" 
was  the  question  he  asked  as  soon  as  he  had  entered  the  room  where, 
all  aglow  from  his  cold  bath,  the  youngster  was  dressing  for  breakfast. 
He  colored  vividly,  then  laughed. 

"  Well,  you  never  gave  me  much  chance  to  say  anything,  did  you  ? 
You  talked  all  the  time,  as  I  remember,  and  suddenly  vanished  and 
slammed  the  door.  I  would  have  told  you  had  you  asked  me."  But 
all  the  same  it  was  evident  for  the  first  time  that  here  was  a  subject 
Rollins  was  shy  of  mentioning. 

"  Did  you  go  down  and  see  them  across  sentry  post  ?" 

"  Certainly.  Jerrold  asked  me  to.  He  said  he  had  to  take  Miss 
Renwick  home,  and  was  too  tired  to  come  back, — was  going  to  turn  in. 
I  was  glad  to  do  anything  to  be  civil  to  the  Buttons." 

"  Why,  I'd  like  to  know  ?  They  have  never  invited  you  to  the 
house  or  shown  you  any  attention  whatever.  You  are  not  their  style 
at  all,  Rollins,  and  I'm  glad  of  it.  It  wasn't  for  their  sake  you  stayed 
there  until  one  o'clock  instead  of  being  here  in  bed.  I  wish — "  and  he 
looked  wistfully,  earnestly,  at  his  favorite  now,  "  I  wish  I  could  think 
it  wasn't  for  the  sake  of  Miss  Beaubien's  black  eyes  and  aboriginal 
beauty." 

"  Look  here,  captain,"  said  Rollins,  with  another  rush  of  color  to 
his  face ;  "  you  don't  seem  to  fancy  Miss  Beaubien,  and — she's  a  friend 
of  mine,  and  one  I  don't  like  to  hear  slightingly  spoken  of.  You  said  a 
good  deal  last  night  that — well,  wasn't  pleasant  to  hear." 

"  I  know  it,  Rollins.  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  didn't  know  then  that 
you  were  more  than  slightly  acquainted  with  her.  I'm  an  old  bat,  and 
go  out  very  little,  but  some  things  are  pretty  clear  to  my  eyes,  and — 
don't  you  be  falling  in  love  with  Nina  Beaubien.  That  is  no  match  for 
you." 

"  I'm  sure  you  never  had  a  word  to  say  against  her  father.  The 
old  colonel  was  a  perfect  type  of  the  French  gentleman,  from  all  I 
hear." 

"  Yes,  and  her  mother  is  as  perfect  a  type  of  a  Chippewa  squaw,  if 
she  is  only  a  half-breed  and  claims  to  be  only  a  sixteenth.  Rollins, 
there's  Indian  blood  enough  in  Nina  Beaubien's  little  finger  to  make 
me  afraid  of  her.  She  is  strong  as  death  in  love  or  hate,  and  you  must 
have  seen  how  she  hung  on  Jerrold's  every  word  all  last  winter.  You 
must  know  she  is  not  the  girl  to  be  lightly  dropped  now." 

"  She  told  me  only  a  day  or  two  ago  they  were  the  best  of  friends 
and  had  never  been  anything  else,"  said  Rollins,  hotly. 

"  Has  it  gone  that  far,  my  boy  ?  I  had  not  thought  it  so  bad,  by 
any  means.  It's  no  use  talking  with  a  man  who  has  lost  his  heart : 
his  reason  goes  with  it."     And  Chester  turned  away. 

"  You  don't  know  anything  about  it,"  was  all  poor  Rollins  could 
think  of  as  a  suitable  thing  to  shout  after  him ;  and  it  made  no  more 
impression  than  it  deserved. 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  795 

As  has  been  said,  Captain  Chester  had  decided  before  seven  o'clock 
that  but  one  course  lay  open  to  him  in  the  matter  as  now  developed. 
Had  Armitage  been  there  he  would  have  had  an  adviser,  but  there  was  no 
other  man  whose  counsel  he  cai'ed  to  seek.  Old  Captain  Gray  was  as 
bitter  against  Jerrold  as  Chester  himself,  and  with  even  better  reason, 
for  he  knew  well  the  cause  of  his  little  daughter's  listless  manner  and 
tearful  eyes.  She  had  been  all  radiance  and  joy  at  the  idea  of  coming 
to  Sibley  and  being  near  the  great  cities,  but  not  one  happy  look  had 
he  seen  in  her  sweet  and  wistful  face  since  the  day  of  her  arrival. 
Wilton,  too,  was  another  captain  who  disliked  Jerrold ;  and  Chester's 
rugged  sense  of  fair  play  told  him  that  it  was  not  among  the  enemies 
of  the  young  officer  that  he  should  now  seek  advice,  but  that  if  he  had 
a  friend  among  the  older  and  wiser  heads  in  the  regiment  it  was  due  to 
him  that  that  older  and  wiser  head  be  given  a  chance  to  think  a  little 
for  Jerrold's  sake.  And  there  was  not  one  among  the  seniors  whom  he 
could  call  upon.  As  he  ran  over  their  names,  Chester  for  the  first  time 
realized  that  his  ex-subaltern  had  not  a  friend  among  the  captains  and 
senior  officers  now  on  duty  at  the  fort.  His  indifference  to  duties,  his 
airy  foppishness,  his  conceit  and  self-sufficiency,  had  all  served  to  create 
a  feeling  against  him ;  and  this  had  been  intensified  by  his  conduct 
since  coming  to  Sibley.  The  youngsters  still  kept  up  jovial  relations 
with  and  professed  to  like  him,  but  among  the  seniors  there  were  many 
men  who  had  only  a  nod  for  him  on  meeting.  Wilton  had  epitomized 
the  situation  by  saying  he  "  had  no  use  for  a  masher,"  and  poor  old 
Gray  had  one  day  scowlingly  referred  to  him  as  "the  professional 
beauty." 

In  view  of  all  this  feeling,  Chester  would  gladly  have  found  some 
man  to  counsel  further  delay ;  but  there  was  none.  He  felt  that  he 
must  inform  the  colonel  at  once  of  the  fact  that  Mr.  Jerrold  was  absent 
from  his  quarters  at  the  time  of  the  firing,  of  his  belief  that  it  was 
Jerrold  who  struck  him  and  sped  past  the  sentry  in  the  dark,  and  of 
his  conviction  that  the  sooner  the  young  officer  was  called  to  account 
for  his  strange  conduct  the  better.  As  to  the  episodes  of  the  ladder, 
the  lights,  and  the  form  at  the  dormer-window,  he  meant,  for  the  present 
at  least,  to  lock  them  in  his  heart. 

But  he  forgot  that  others  too  must  have  heard  those  shots,  and  that 
others  too  would  be  making  inquiries. 

VI. 

A  lovely  morning  it  was  that  beamed  on  Sibley  and  the  broad  and 
beautiful  valley  of  the  Cloudwater  when  once  the  sun  got  fairly  above 
the  moist  horizon.  Mist  and  vapor  and  heavy  cloud  all  seemed  swal- 
lowed up  in  the  gathering,  glowing  warmth,  as  though  the  King  of 
Day  had  risen  athirst  and  drained  the  welcoming  cup  of  nature.  It 
must  have  rained  at  least  a  little  during  the  darkness  of  the  night,  for 
dew  there  could  have  been  none  with  skies  so  heavily  overcast,  and  yet  the 
short  smooth  turf  on  the  parade,  the  leaves  upon  the  little  shade-trees 
around  the  quadrangle,  and  all  the  beautiful  vines  here  on  the  trellis- 
work  of  the  colonel's  veranda,  shone  and  sparkled  in  the  radiant  light. 
The  roses  in  the  little  garden,  and  the  old-fashioned  morning-glory 


796  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

vines  over  at  the  east  side,  were  all  a-glitter  in  the  flooding  sunshine 
when  the  bugler  came  out  from  a  glance  at  the  clock  in  the  adjutant's 
office  and  sounded  "  sick-call"  to  the  indifferent  ear  of  the  garrison. 
Once  each  day,  at  7.30  a.m.,  the  doctor  trudged  across  to  the  hospital 
and  looked  over  the  half-dozen  "  hopelessly  healthy"  but  would-be  in- 
valids who  wanted  to  get  oif  guard  duty  or  a  morning  at  the  range. 
Thanks  to  the  searching  examination  to  which  every  soldier  must  be 
subjected  before  he  can  enter  the  service  of  Uncle  Sam,  and  to  the  dis- 
ciplined order  of  the  lives  of  the  men  at  Sibley,  maladies  of  any  serious 
nature  were  almost  unknown.  It  was  a  gloriously  healthy  post,  as 
everybody  admitted,  and,  to  judge  from  the  specimen  of  young- woman- 
hood that  came  singing,  "  blithe  and  low,"  out  among  the  roses  this 
same  joyous  morning,  exuberant  physical  well-being  was  not  restricted 
to  the  men. 

A  fairer  picture  never  did  dark  beauty  present  than  Alice  Ren  wick, 
as  she  bent  among  the  bushes  or  reached  high  among  the  vines  in  search 
of  her  favorite  flowers.  Tall,  slender,  willowy,  yet  with  exquisitely- 
rounded  form ;  slim,  dainty  little  hands  and  feet ;  graceful  arms  and 
wrists  all  revealed  in  the  flowing  sleeves  of  her  snowy,  web-like  gown, 
fitting  her  and  displaying  her  sinuous  grace  of  form  as  gowns  so  seldom 
do  to-day.  And  then  her  face  ! — a  glorious  picture  of  rich,  ripe,  tropi- 
cal beauty,  with  its  great,  soulful,  sunlit  eyes,  heavily  shaded  though 
they  were  with  those  wondrous  lashes ;  beautiful,  too,  in  contour  as 
was  the  lithe  body,  and  beautiful  in  every  feature,  even  to  the  rare  and 
dewy  curve  of  her  red  lips,  half  opened  as  she  sang.  She  was  smiling 
to  herself,  as  she  crooned  her  soft,  murmuring  melody,  and  every 
little  while  the  great  dark  eyes  glanced  over  towards  the  shaded  doors 
of  Bachelors'  Row.  There  was  no  one  up  to  watch  and  tell  :  why 
should  she  not  look  thither,  and  even  stand  one  moment  peering  under 
the  veranda  at  a  darkened  window  half-way  down  the  row,  as  though 
impatient  at  the  non-appearance  of  some  familiar  signal  ?  How  came 
the  laggard  late?  How  slept  the  knight  while  here  his  lady  stood  im- 
patient? She  twined  the  leaves  and  roses  in  a  fragrant  knot,  ran 
lightly  within  and  laid  them  on  the  snowy  clotli  beside  the  colonel's 
seat  at  table,  came  forth  and  plucked  some  more  and  fastened  them, 
blushing,  blissful,  in  the  lace-fringed  opening  of  her  gown,  through 
which,  soft  and  creamy,  shone  the  perfect  neck. 

"  Daisy,  tell  my  fortune,  pray : 
He  loves  me  not, — he  loves  me," 

she  blithely  sang,  then,  hurrying  to  the  gate,  shaded  her  eyes  with  the 
shapely  hand  and  gazed  intently.  "Twas  nearing  eight, — nearing 
breakfast-time.  But  some  one  was  coming.  Horrid  !  Captain  Chester, 
of  all  men  !  Coming,  of  course,  to  see  papa,  and  papa  not  yet  down, 
and  mamma  had  a  headache  and  had  decided  not  to  come  down  at  all, 
she  would  breakfast  in  her  room.  What  girl  on  earth  when  looking 
and  longing  and  waiting  for  the  coming  of  a  graceful  youth  of  twenty- 
six  would  be  anythingbut  dismayed  at  the  substitution  therefor  of  a 
bulky,  heavy-hearted  captain  of  forty-six,  no  matter  if  he  were  still 
unmarried  ?     And  yet  her  smile  was  sweet  and  cordial. 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  797 

"Why,  good-morniug,  Captain  Chester.  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you 
this  bright  day.  Do  come  in  and  let  me  give  you  a  rose.  Papa  will 
soon  be  down."  And  she  opened  the  gate  and  held  forth  one  long, 
slim  hand.  He  took  it  slowly,  as  though  in  a  dream,  raising  his  forage- 
cap at  the  same  time,  yet  making  no  reply.  He  was  looking  at  her  far 
more  closely  than  he  imagined.  How  fresh,  how  radiant,  how  fair  and 
gracious  and  winning !  Eveiy  item  of  her  attire  was  so  pure  and  white 
and  spotless ;  every  fold  and  curve  of  her  gown  seemed  charged  with 
subtile,  delicate  fragrance,  as  faint  and  sweet  as  the  shy  and  modest  wood- 
violet's.  She  noted  his  silence  and  his  haggard  eyes.  She  noted  the 
intent  gaze,  and  the  color  mounted  straightway  to  her  forehead. 

"  And  have  you  no  word  of  greeting  for  me  ?"  she  blithely  laughed, 
striving  to  break  through  the  awkwardness  of  his  reserve,  "  or  are  you 
worn  out  with  your  night  watch  as  officer  of  the  day  ?" 

He  fairly  started.  Had  she  seen  him,  then  ?  Did  she  know  it  was 
he  who  stood  beneath  her  window,  he  who  leaped  in  chase  of  that 
scoundrel,  he  who  stole  away,  with  that  heavy  tell-tale  ladder?  and, 
knowing  all  this,  could  she  stand  there  smiling  in  his  face,  the  incarna- 
tion of  maiden  innocence  and  beauty?  Impossible!  Yet  what  could 
she  mean  ? 

"  How  did  you  know  I  had  so  long  a  vigil  ?"  he  asked,  and  the 
cold,  strained  tone,  the  half-averted  eyes,  the  pallor  of  his  face,  all 
struck  her  at  once.     Instantly  her  manner  changed  : 

"  Oh,  forgive  me,  captain.  I  see  you  are  all  worn  out ;  and  I'm 
keeping  you  here  at  the  gate.  Come  to  the  piazza  and  sit  down.  I'll 
tell  papa  you  are  here,  for  I  know  you  want  to  see  him."  And  she 
tripped  lightly  away  before  he  could  reply,  and  rustled  up  the  stairs. 
He  could  hear  her  light  tap  at  the  colonel's  door,  and  her  soft,  clear, 
flute-like  voice  :  "  Papa,  Captain  Chester  is  here  to  see  you." 

Papa  indeed  !  She  spoke  to  him  and  of  him  as  though  he  were 
her  own.  He  treated  her  as  though  she  were  his  flesh  and  blood, 
— as  though  he  loved  her  devotedly.  Even  before  she  came  had  not 
they  been  prepared  for  this?  Did  not  Mrs.  Maynard  tell  them  that 
Alice  had  become  enthusiastically  devoted  to  her  step-father  and  con- 
sidered him  the  most  knightly  and  chivalric  hero  she  had  ever  seen  ? 
He  could  hear  the  colonel's  hearty  and  loving  tone  in  reply,  and  then 
she  came  fluttering  down  again : 

"  Papa  will  be  with  you  in  five  minutes,  captain.  But  won't  you  let 
me  give  you  some  coflee  ?  It's  all  ready,  and  you  look  so  tired, — even 
ill." 

"  I  have  had  a  bad  night,"  he  answered,  "  but  I'm  growing  old,  and 
cannot  stand  sleeplessness  as  you  young  people  seem  to." 

Was  she  faltering?  He  watched  her  eagerly,  narrowly,  almost 
wonderingly.  Not  a  trace  of  confusion,  not  a  sign  of  fear ;  and  yet 
had  he  not  seen  her,  and  that  other  figure? 

"  I  wish  you  could  sleep  as  I  do,"  was  the  prompt  reply.  "  I  was 
in  the  land  of  dreams  ten  minutes  after  my  head  touched  the  pillow, 
and  mamma  made  me  come  home  early  last  night  because  of  our 
journey  to-day.  You  know  we  are  going  down  to  visit  Aunt  Grace, 
Colonel  Maynard's  sister,  at  Lake  Sablon,  and  mamma  wanted  me  to 


798  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

be  looking  my  freshest  and  best/'  she  said,  "  and  I  never  heard  a  thing 

till  reveille." 

His  eyes,  sad,  penetrating,  doubting, — yet  self-doubting,  too, — 
searched  her  very  soul.  Unflinchingly  the  dark  orbs  looked  into  his, — 
even  pityingly ;  for  she  quickly  spoke  again  : 

"  Captain,  do  come  into  the  breakfast-room  and  have  some  coffee. 
You  have  not  breakfasted,  I'm  sure." 

He  raised  his  hand  as  though  to  repel  her  offer, — even  to  put  her 
aside.  He  must  understand  her.  He  could  not  be  hoodwinked  in  this 
way. 

"  Pardon  me.  Miss  Renwick,  but  did  you  hear  nothing  strange  last 
night  or  early  this  morning  ?     Were  you  not  disturbed  at  all  ?" 

"  I  ?  No,  indeed !"  True,  her  face  had  changed  now,  but  there 
was  no  fear  in  her  eyes.  It  was  a  look  of  apprehension,  perhaps,  of 
concern  and  curiosity  mingled,  for  his  tone  betrayed  that  something 
had  happened  which  caused  him  agitation. 

"  And  you  heard  no  shots  fired  ?" 

"  Shots  !  No  !  Oh,  Captain  Chester !  what  does  it  mean  ?  Who 
was  shot  ?     Tell  me  !" 

And  now,  with  paling  face  and  wild  apprehension  in  her  eyes,  she 
turned  and  gazed  beyond  him,  past  the  vines  and  the  shady  veranda, 
across  the  sunshine  of  the  parade  and  under  the  old  piazza,  searching 
that  still  closed  and  darkened  window. 

"  Who  ?"  she  implored,  her  hands  clasping  nervously,  her  eyes 
returning  eagerly  to  his  face. 

"  It  was  not  Mr.  Jerrold,"  he  answered,  coldly.  "  He  is  unhurt, 
so  far  as  shot  is  concerned." 

"Then  how  is  he  hurt?  Is  he  hurt  at  all?"  she  persisted;  and 
then  as  she  met  his  gaze  her  eyes  fell,  and  the  burning  blush  of  maiden 
shame  surged  up  to  her  forehead.  She  sank  upon  a  seat  and  covered 
her  face  with  her  hands. 

"  I  thought  of  Mr.  Jerrold,  naturally.  He  said  he  would  be  over 
early  this  morning,"  was  all  she  could  find  to  say. 

"  I  have  seen  him,  and  presume  he  will  come.  To  all  appearances, 
he  is  the  last  man  to  suffer  from  last  night's  affair,"  he  went  on,  relent- 
lessly,— almost  brutally, — but  she  never  winced.  "  It  is  odd  you  did 
not  hear  the  shots.  I  thought  yours  was  the  northwest  room, — this 
one?"  he  indicated,  pointing  overhead. 

"  So  it  is,  and  I  slept  there  all  last  night  and  heard  nothing, — not 
a  thing.     Do  tell  me  what  the  trouble  was." 

Then  what  was  there  for  him  to  say?  The  colonel's  footsteps  were 
heard  upon  the  stair,  and  the  colonel,  with  extended  hand  and  beaming 
face  and  cheery  welcome,  came  forth  from  the  open  door-way : 

"  Welcome,  Chester  !  I'm  glad  you've  come  just  in  time  for  break- 
fast. Mrs.  Maynard  won't  be  down.  She  slept  badly  last  night,  and 
is  sleeping  now.  What  was  the  firing  last  night  ?  I  did  not  hear  it  at 
the  time,  but  the  orderly  and  old  Maria  the  cook  were  discussing  it  as 
I  was  shaving." 

"  It  is  that  I  came  to  see  you  about,  colonel.  I  am  the  man  to  hold 
responsible." 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  799 

"  No  prisoners  got  away,  I  hope?" 

"  No,  sir.  Nothing,  I  fear,  that  would  seem  to  justify  my  action. 
I  ordered  Number  Five  to  fire." 

"  Why,  what  on  earth  could  have  happened  around  there, — almost 
back  of  us  ?"  said  the  colonel,  in  surprise. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  had  happened,  or  what  was  going  to  happen." 
And  Chester  paused  a  moment,  and  glanced  towards  the  door  through 
which  Miss  Renwick  had  retired  as  soon  as  the  colonel  arrived.  The 
old  soldier  seemed  to  understand  the  glance.  "  Slie  would  not  listen," 
he  said,  proudly. 

"  I  know,"  explained  Chester.  "  I  think  it  best  that  no  one  but  you 
should  hear  anything  of  the  matter  for  the  present  until  I  have  investi- 
gated further.  It  was  nearly  half-past  three  this  morning  as  I  got 
around  here  on  Five's  post,  inspecting  sentinels,  and  came  suddenly  in 
the  darkness  upon  a  man  carrying  a  ladder  on  his  shoulder.  I  ordered 
him  to  halt.  The  reply  was  a  violent  blow,  and  the  ladder  and  I  were 
dropped  at  the  same  instant,  while  the  man  sprang  into  space  and 
darted  off  in  the  direction  of  Number  Five.  I  followed  quick  as  I 
could,  heard  the  challenge  and  the  cries  of  halt,  and  shouted  to  Leary 
to  fire.  He  did,  but  missed  his  aim  in  the  haste  and  darkness,  and  the 
man  got  safely  away.  Of  course  there  is  much  talk  and  speculation 
about  it  around  the  post  this  morning,  for  several  people  heard  the 
shots  besides  the  guard,  and,  although  I  told  Leary  and  others  to  say 
nothing,  I  know  it  is  already  generally  known." 

"  Oh,  well,  come  in  to  breakfast,"  said  the  colonel.  "  "We'll  talk  it 
over  there." 

"  Pardon  me,  sir,  I  cannot.  I  must  get  back  home  before  guard- 
mount,  and  Rollins  is  probably  waiting  to  see  me  now.  I — I  could 
not  discuss  it  at  the  table,  for  there  are  some  singular  features  about 
the  matter." 

"  Why,  in  God's  name,  what  ?"  asked  the  colonel,  with  sudden  and 
deep  anxiety. 

"  Well,  sir,  an  officer  of  the  garrison  is  placed  in  a  compromising 
position  by  this  affair,  and  cannot  or  will  not  explain." 

"Who?" 

"  Mr.  Jerrold,  sir." 

"  Jerrold  !  Why,  I  got  a  note  from  him  not  ten  minutes  ago  saying 
he  had  an  engagement  in  town  and  asking  permission  to  go  before 
guard-mounting,  if  Mr.  Hall  was  ready.  Hall  wanted  to  go  with  him, 
Jerrold  wrote,  but  Hall  has  not  applied  for  permission  to  leave  the 
post." 

"  It  is  Jerrold  who  is  compromised,  colonel.  I  may  be  all  wrong 
in  my  suspicions,  all  wrong  in  reporting  the  matter  to  you  at  all,  but  in 
my  perplexity  and  distress  I  see  no  other  way.  Frankly,  sir,  the  mo- 
ment I  caught  sight  of  the  man  he  looked  like  Jerrold  ;  and  two  minutes 
after  the  shots  were  fired  I  inspected  Jerrold's  quarters.  He  was  not 
there,  though  the  lamps  were  burning  very  low  in  the  bedroom,  and  his 
bed  had  not  been  occupied  at  all.  When  you  see  Leary,  sir,  he  will 
tell  you  that  he  also  thought  it  must  be  Mr.  Jerrold." 

"  The  young  scapegrace  ! — been  off  to  town,  I  suppose." 


800  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

"  Colonel/'  said  Chester,  quickly,  "  you — not  I — must  decide  that. 
I  went  to  his  quarters  after  reveille,  and  he  was  then  there,  and  resented 
my  visit  and  questions,  admitted  that  he  had  been  out  during  the  night, 
but  refused  to  make  any  statement  to  me." 

"  Well,  Chester,  I  will  haul  him  up  after  breakfast.  Possibly  he 
had  been  up  to  the  rifle-camp,  or  had  driven  to  town  after  the  doctor's 
party.  Of  course  that  must  be  stopped;  but  I'm  glad  you  missed  him. 
It,  of  course,  staggers  a  man's  judgment  to  be  knocked  down,  but  if  you 
had  killed  him  it  might  have  been  as  serious  for  you  as  this  knock-down 
blow  will  be  for  him.  That  is  the  worst  phase  of  the  matter.  "What 
could  he  have  been  thinking  of?  He  must  have  been  either  drunk  or 
mad ;  and  he  rarely  drank.  Oh,  dear,  dear,  dear,  but  that's  very  bad, 
— very  bad, — striking  the  officer  of  the  day  !  Why,  Chester,  that's  the 
worst  thing  that's  happened  in  the  regiment  since  I  took  command  of 
it.  It's  about  the  worst  thing  that  could  have  happened  to  us.  Of 
course  he  must  go  in  arrest.  I'll  see  the  adjutant  right  after  breakfast. 
I'll  be  over  early,  Chester."  And  with  grave  and  worried  face  the 
colonel  bade  him  adieu. 

As  he  turned  away,  Chester  heard  him  saying  again  to  himself, 
"  About  the  worst  thing  he  could  have  done  ! — the  worst  thing  he  could 
have  done !"  And  the  captain's  heart  sank  within  him.  What  would 
the  colonel  say  when  he  knew  how  far,  far  worse  was  the  foul  wrong 
Mr.  Jerrold  had  done  to  him  and  his  ? 

VII. 

Before  guard-mounting — almost  half  an  hour  before  his  usual  time 
for  appearing  at  the  office — Colonel  Maynard  hurried  in  to  his  desk, 
sent  the  orderly  for  Captain  Chester,  and  then  the  clerks  in  the  ser- 
geant-major's room  heard  him  close  and  lock  the  door.  As  the  subject 
of  the  shooting  was  already  under  discussion  among  the  men  there 
assembled,  this  action  on  the  part  of  the  chief  was  considered  highly 
significant.  It  was  hardly  five  minutes  before  Chester  came,  looked 
surprised  at  finding  the  door  locked,  knocked,  and  was  admitted. 

The  look  on  the  haggard  face  at  the  desk,  the  dumb  misery  in  the 
eyes,  the  wrath  and  horror  in  it  all,  carried  him  back  twenty  years  to 
that  gloomy  morning  in  the  casemates  when  the  story  was  passed 
around  that  Captain  Maynard  had  lost  a  wife  and  an  intimate  friend 
during  the  previous  night.  Chester  saw  at  a  glance  that,  despite  his 
precautions,  the  blow  had  come,  the  truth  been  revealed  at  one  fell 
swoop. 

"  Lock  the  door  again,  Chester,  and  come  here.  I  have  some 
questions  to  ask  you." 

The  captain  silently  took  the  chair  which  was  indicated  by  a  wave 
of  the  colonel's  hand,  and  waited.  For  a  moment  no  word  more  was 
spoken.  The  old  soldier,  white  and  trembling  strangely,  reseated  him- 
self at  the  desk,  and  covered  his  face  with  his  hands.  Twice  he  drew 
them  with  feebly  stroking  movement  over  his  eyes,  as  though  to  rally 
the  stunned  faculties  and  face  the  trying  ordeal.  Then  a  shiver  passed 
through  his  frame,  and  with  sudden  lift  of  the  head  he  fixed  his  gaze 
on  Chester's  face  and  launched  the  question, — 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  801 

"  Chester,  is  there  any  kindness  to  a  man  who  has  been  through 
what  I  have  in  telling  only  half  a  tale,  as  you  have  done?" 

The  captain  colored  red.  "  I  am  at  a  loss  to  answer  you,  colonel," 
he  said,  after  brief  reflection.  "  You  know  far  more  than  you  did  half 
an  hour  ago,  and  what  I  knew  I  could  not  bear  to  tell  you  as  yet." 

"  My  God !  my  God  !  Tell  me  all,  and  tell  me  at  once.  Here, 
man,  if  you  need  stimulant  to  your  indignation  and  cannot  speak  with- 
out it,  read  this.  I  found  it,  open,  among  the  rose-bushes  in  the  gar- 
den, where  she  must  have  dropped  it  when  out  there  with  you.  Read 
it.  Tell  me  what  it  means ;  for,  God  knows,  I  can't  believe  such  a 
thing  of  her." 

He  handed  Chester  a  sheet  of  note-paper.  It  was  moist  and  blurred 
on  the  first  page,  but  the  inner  pages,  though  damp,  were  in  good  con- 
dition. The  first,  second,  and  third  pages  were  closely  covered  in  a 
bold,  nervous  hand  that  Chester  knew  well.  It  was  Jerrold's  writing, 
beyond  a  doubt,  and  Chester's  face  grew  hot  as  he  read,  and  his  heart 
turned  cold  as  stone  when  he  finished  the  last  hurried  line. 

"  My  Darling, — 

"  I  must  see  you,  if  only  for  a  moment,  before  you  leave.  Do  not 
let  this  alarm  you,  for  the  more  I  think  the  more  I  am  convinced  it  is 
only  a  bluff,  but  Captain  Chester  discovered  my  absence  eai'ly  this 
morning  when  spying  around  as  usual,  and  now  he  claims  to  have 
knowledge  of  our  secret.  Even  if  he  was  on  the  terrace  when  I  got 
back,  it  was  too  dark  for  him  to  recognize  me,  and  it  seems  impossible 
that  he  can  have  got  any  real  clue.  He  suspects,  perhaps,  and  tliuiks 
to  force  me  to  confession;  but  I  would  guard  your  name  with  my  life. 
Be  wary.  Act  as  though  there  were  nothing  on  eartli  between  us,  and 
if  we  cannot  meet  until  then  I  will  be  at  the  d6p6t  with  the  others  to 
see  you  off,  and  will  then  have  a  letter  ready  with  full  particulars 
and  instructions.  It  will  be  in  the  first  thing  I  hand  to  you.  Hide  it 
until  you  can  safely  read  it.  Your  mother  must  not  be  allowed  a 
glimmer  of  suspicion,  and  then  you  are  safe.  As  for  me,  even  Chester 
cannot  make  the  colonel  turn  against  me  now.  My  jealous  one,  my 
fiery  sweetheart,  do  you  not  realize  now  that  I  was  ^\^se  m  sho^ving  her 
so  much  attention  ?  A  thousand  kisses.  Come  what  may,  they  camiot 
rob  us  of  the  past.  Howard. 

"  I  fear  you  heard  and  were  alarmed  by  the  shots  just  after  I  left 
you.     All  was  quiet  when  I  got  home." 

It  was  some  seconds  before  Chester  could  control  himself  suf- 
ficiently to  speak.  "  I  wish  to  God  the  bullet  had  gone  through  his 
heart !"  he  said. 

"  It  has  gone  through  mine, — through  mine  !  This  will  kill  her 
mother.  Chester,"  cried  the  colonel,  springing  suddenly  to  his  feet, 
''-she  must  not  know  it.  She  must  not  dream  of  it.  I  tell  you  it 
would  stretch  her  in  the  dust,  dead,  for  she  loves  that  child  with  all  her 
strength,  with  all  her  being,  I  believe,  for  it  is  two  mother-loves  in  one. 
She  had  a  son,  older  than  Alice  by  several  years,  her  first-born, — her 


802  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

glory,  he  was, — ^but  the  boy  inherited  the  father's  passionate  and  im- 
pulsive nature.  He  loved  a  girl  utterly  beneath  him,  and  would  have 
married  her  when  he  was  only  twenty.  There  is  no  question  that  he 
loved  her  well,  for  he  refused  to  give  her  up,  no  matter  what  his  father 
threatened.  They  tried  to  buy  her  off,  and  she  scorned  them.  Then 
they  had  a  letter  written,  while  he  was  sent  abroad  under  pretence  that 
he  should  have  his  will  if  he  came  back  in  a  year  unchanged.  By  Jove, 
it  seems  she  was  as  much  in  love  as  he,  and  it  broke  her  heart.  She 
went  off  and  died  somewhere,  and  he  came  back  ahead  of  time  because 
her  letters  had  ceased,  and  found  it  all  out.  There  was  an  awful  scene. 
He  cursed  them  both, — father  and  mother, — and  left  her  senseless  at 
his  feet;  and  from  that  day  to  this  they  never  heard  of  him,  never 
could  get  the  faintest  report.  It  broke  Renwick, — killed  liim,  I  guess, 
for  he  died  in  two  years ;  and  as  for  the  mother,  you  would  not  tliink 
that  a  woman  so  apparently  full  of  life  and  health  was  in  desperate 
danger.  She  had  some  organic  trouble  with  the  heart  years  ago,  they 
tell  her,  and  this  experience  has  developed  it  so  that  now  any  great  emo- 
tion or  sudden  shock  is  perilous.  Do  you  not  see  how  doubly  fearful 
this  comes  to  us  ?  Chester,  I  have  weathered  one  awful  storm,  but  I'm 
old  and  broken  now.     This — this  beats  me.     Tell  me  what  to  do." 

The  cajjtain  was  silent  a  few  moments.     He  was  thinking  intently. 

"  Does  she  know  you  have  that  letter  ?"  he  asked. 

Maynard  shook  his  head :  "  I  looked  back  as  I  came  away.  She 
was  in  the  parlor,  singing  softly  to  herself,  at  tlie  very  moment  I 
picked  it  up,  lying  open  as  it  was  right  there  among  the  roses,  the  first 
words  staring  me  in  the  face.  I  meant  not  to  read  it, — never  dreamed 
it  was  for  her, — and  had  turned  over  the  page  to  look  for  the  super- 
scription. There  was  none,  but  there  I  saw  the  signature  and  tliat 
postscript  about  the  shots.  That  startled  me,  and  I  read  it  here  just 
before  you  came,  and  then  could  account  for  your  conduct, — something 
I  could  not  do  before.  God  of  heaven  !  would  any  man  believe  it  of 
her  ?  It  is  incredible  !  Chester,  tell  me  everything  you  Icnow  now, — 
even  everything  you  suspect.     I  must  see  my  way  clear." 

And  then  the  captain,  with  halting  and  reluctant  tongue,  told  his 
story :  how  he  had  stumbled  on  the  ladder  back  of  the  colonel's 
quarters  and  learned  from  Number  Five  that  some  one  had  been  prowl- 
ing back  of  Bachelors'  Row  ;  how  he  returned  there  afterwards,  found 
the  ladder  at  the  side-wall,  and  saw  the  tall  form  issue  from  her  win- 
dow ;  how  he  had  given  chase  and  been  knocked  breathless,  and  of  his 
suspicions,  and  Leary's,  as  to  the  identity  of  the  stranger. 

The  colonel  bowed  his  head  still  deeper,  and  groaned  aloud.  But 
he  had  still  other  questions  to  ask. 

"  Did  you  see — any  one  else  at  the  window  ?" 

"  Not  while  he  was  there." 

"At  any  time,  then, — before  or  after?"  And  the  colonel's  eyes 
would  take  no  denial. 

"  I  saw,"  faltered  Chester,  "  nobody.  The  shade  was  pulled  up 
while  I  was  standing  there,  after  I  had  tripped  on  the  ladder.  I  sup- 
posed the  noise  of  my  stumble  had  awakened  her." 

"  And  was  that  all  ?     Did  you  see  notliing  more  ?" 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  803 

"  Colonel,  I  did  see,  afterwards,  a  woman's  hand  and  arm  closing 
the  shade." 

"  My  God  !  And  she  told  me  she  slept  the  night  through, — never 
waked  or  heard  a  sound  !" 

"  Did  you  hear  nothing  yourself,  colonel  ?" 

"  Nothing.  When  she  came  home  from  the  party  she  stopped  a 
moment,  saying  something  to  him  at  the  door,  then  came  into  the 
library  and  kissed  me  good-night.  I  shut  up  the  house  and  went 
to  bed  about  half-past  twelve,  and  her  door  was  closed  when  I  went  to 
our  room." 

"  So  there  were  two  closed  doors,  yours  and  hers,  and  the  broad  hall 
between  you  ?" 

"  Certainly.  We  have  the  doors  open  all  night  that  lead  into  the 
rear  rooms,  and  their  windows.  This  gives  us  abundant  air.  Alice 
always  has  the  hall  door  closed  at  night." 

"  And  Mrs.  Maynard, — was  she  asleep  ?" 

"  No.  Mrs.  Maynard  was  lying  awake,  and  seemed  a  little  restless 
and  disturbed.  Some  of  the  women  had  been  giving  her  some  hints 
about  Jerrold  and  fretting  her.  You  know  she  took  a  strange  fancy  to 
him  at  the  start.  It  was  simply  because  he  reminded  her  so  strongly 
of  the  boy  she  had  lost.  She  told  me  so.  But  after  a  little  she  began 
to  discover  traits  in  him  she  did  not  like,  and  then  his  growing  in- 
timacy with  Alice  worried  her.  She  would  have  put  a  stop  to  the  doc- 
tor's party, — to  her  going  with  him,  I  mean, — but  the  engagement  was 
made  some  days  ago.  Two  or  three  days  since,  she  warned  Alice  not 
to  trust  him,  she  says ;  and  it  is  really  as  much  on  this  as  any  other 
account  that  we  decided  to  get  her  away,  oif  to  see  her  aunt  Grace. 
Oh,  God  !  how  blind  we  are !  how  blind  we  are !"  And  poor  old 
Maynard  bowed  his  head  and  almost  groaned  aloud. 

Chester  rose,  and,  in  his  characteristic  way,  began  tramping  ner- 
vously up  and  down.  There  was  a  knock  at  the  door.  "  The  adjutant's 
compliments,  and  'twas  time  for  guard-mount.  Would  the  colonel 
wish  to  see  him  before  he  went  out?"  asked  the  orderly. 

"  I  ought  to  go,  sir,"  said  Chester.  "  I  am  old  officer  of  the  day, 
and  there  will  be  just  time  for  me  to  get  into  full  uniform." 

"  Let  them  go  on  without  you,"  said  Maynard.  "  I  cannot  spare 
you  now.  Send  word  to  that  effect.  Now, — now  about  this  man, — 
this  Jerrold.  What  is  the  best  thing  we  can  do? — of  course  I  know 
what  he  most  deserves ; — but  what  is  the  best  thing  under  all  the  circum- 
stances ?  Of  course  my  wife  and  Alice  will  leave  to-day.  She  was  still 
sleeping  when  I  left,  and,  pray  God,  is  not  dreaming  of  this.  It  was 
nearly  two  before  she  closed  her  eyes  last  night ;  and  I,  too,  slept 
badly.     You  have  seen  him.     What  does  he  say  ?" 

"Denies  everything, — anything, — challenges  me  to  prove  that  he 
was  absent  from  his  house  more  than  five  minutes, — indeed,  I  could 
not,  for  he  may  have  come  in  just  after  I  left, — and  pretended  utter 
ignorance  of  my  meaning  when  I  accused  him  of  strikiiig  me  before  I 
ordered  the  sentry  to  fire.  Of  course  it  is  all  useless  now.  When  I 
confront  him  with  this  letter  he  must  give  in.  Then  let  him  resign  and 
get  away  as  quietly  as  possible  before  the  end  of  the  week.     No  one 


804  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

need  know  the  causes.  Of  course  shooting  is  what  he  deserves ;  but 
shooting  demands  explanation.  It  is  better  for  your  name,  hers,  and 
all,  that  he  should  be  allowed  to  live  than  that  the  truth  were  sus- 
pected, as  it  would  be  if  he  were  killed.  Indeed,  sir,  if  I  were  you  I 
would  take  them  to  Sablon,  keep  them  away  for  a  fortnight,  and  leave 
him  to  me.  It  may  be  even  judicious  to  let  him  go  on  with  all  his 
duties  as  though  nothing  had  happened,  as  though  he  had  simply  been 
absent  from  reveille,  and  let  the  whole  matter  drop  like  that  until  all 
remark  and  curiosity  is  lulled ;  then  you  can  send  her  back  to  Europe 
or  the  East, — time  enough  to  decide  on  that ;  but  I  will  privately  tell 
him  he  must  quit  the  service  in  six  months,  and  show  him  why.  It 
isn't  the  way  it  ought  to  be  settled ;  it  probably  isn't  the  way  Armitage 
would  do  it ;  but  it  is  the  best  thing  that  occurs  to  me.  One  thing  is 
certain  :  you  and  they  ought  to  get  away  at  once,  and  he  should  not  be 
permitted  to  see  her  again.  I  can  run  the  post  a  few  days  and  explain 
matters  after  you  go." 

The  colonel  sat  in  wretched  silence  a  few  moments ;  then  he  arose : 

"  If  it  were  not  for  her  danger, — her  heart, — I  would  never  drop 
the  matter  here, — never !  I  would  see  it  through  to  the  bitter  end. 
But  you  are  probably  right  as  to  the  prudent  course  to  take.  I'll  get 
them  away  on  the  noon  train :  he  thinks  they  do  not  start  until  later. 
Now  I  must  go  and  face  it.  My  God,  Chester  !  could  you  look  at  that 
child  and  realize  it?  Even  now,  even  now,  sir,  I  believe — I  believe, 
someway — somehow — she  is  innocent." 

"  God  grant  it,  sir !" 

And  then  the  colonel  left  the  office,  avoiding,  as  has  been  told,  a 
word  with  any  man.  Chester  buttoned  the  tell-tale  letter  in  an  inner 
pocket,  after  having  first  folded  the  sheet  lengthwise  and  then  enclosed 
it  in  a  long  official  envelope.  The  officers,  -wondering  at  the  colonel's 
distraught  appearance,  had  come  thronging  in,  hoping  for  information, 
and  then  had  gone,  unsatisfied  and  disgusted,  practically  turned  out  by 
their  crabbed  senior  captain.  The  ladies,  after  chatting  aimlessly  about 
the  quadrangle  for  half  an  hour,  had  decided  that  Mrs.  Maynard  must 
be  ill,  and,  while  most  of  them  awaited  the  result,  two  of  their  number 
went  to  the  colonel's  house  and  rang  at  the  bell.  A  servant  appeared  : 
"  Mrs.  Maynard  wasn't  very  well  this  morning,  and  w^as  breakfasting 
in  her  room,  and  Miss  Alice  was  with  her,  if  the  ladies  would  please 
excuse  them."  And  so  the  emissaries  returned  unsuccessful.  Then, 
too,  as  we  have  seen,  despite  his  good  intention  of  keeping  matters 
hushed  as  much  as  possible,  Chester's  nervous  irritability  had  got  the 
better  of  him,  and  he  had  made  damaging  admissions  to  Wilton  of 
the  existence  of  a  cause  of  worriment  and  perplexity,  and  this  Wilton 
told  without  compunction.  And  then  there  was  another  excitement, 
that  set  all  tongues  wagging.  ICvery  man  had  heard  what  Chester  said, 
that  Mr.  Jerrold  must  not  quit  the  garrison  until  he  had  first  come  and 
seen  the  temporary  commanding  officer,  and  Hall  had  speedily  carried 
the  news  to  his  friend. 

"Are  you  ready  to  go?"  asked  Mr.  Jerrold,  who  was  lacing  his 
boots  in  the  rear  room. 

"  No.     I've  got  to  go  and  get  into  '  cits'  first." 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  805 

"  All  right.  Go,  and  be  lively  !  I'll  wait  for  you  at  Murphy's, 
beyond  the  bridge,  provided  you  say  nothing  about  it." 

"  You  don't  mean  you  are  going  against  orders  ?" 

"  Going  ?  Of  course  I  am.  I've  got  old  Maynard's  permission, 
and  if  Chester  means  to  revoke  it  he's  got  to  get  his  adjutant  here  inside 
of  ten  seconds.     What  you  tell  me  isn't  official.     I'm  off  now .'" 

And  when  the  adjutant  returned  to  Captain  Chester  it  was  with  the 
information  that  he  was  too  late :  Mr.  Jerrold's  dog-cart  had  crossed 
the  bridge  five  minutes  earlier. 

Perhaps  an  hour  later  the  colonel  sent  for  Chester,  and  the  captain 
went  to  his  house.  The  old  soldier  was  pacing  slowly  up  and  down  the 
parlor  floor. 

"  I  wanted  you  a  moment.  A  singular  thing  has  happened.  You 
know  that  '  Directoire'  cabinet  photo  of  Alice  ?  My  wife  always  kept 
it  on  her  dressing-table,  and  this  morning  it's  gone.  That  frame — the 
silver  filigree  thing — was  found  behind  a  sofa-pillow  in  Alice's  room, 
and  she  declares  she  has  no  idea  how  it  got  there.  Chester,  is  there 
any  new  significance  in  this?" 

The  captain  bowed  assent. 

"What  is  it?" 

"  That  photograph  was  seen  by  Major  Sloat  in  Jerrold's  bureau- 
drawer  at  reveille  this  morning." 

And  such  was  the  situation  at  Sibley  the  August  day  the  colonel 
took  his  wife  and  her  lovely  daughter  to  visit  Aunt  Grace  at  Lake 
Sablon. 

VIII. 

In  the  big  red  omnibus  that  was  slowly  toiling  over  the  dusty  road 
several  passengers  were  making  their  way  from  the  railway-station  to 
the  hotel  at  Lake  Sablon.  Two  of  them  were  women  of  mature  years, 
whose  dress  and  bearing  betokened  lives  of  ease  and  comfort ;  another 
was  a  lovely  brunette  of  less  than  twenty,  the  daughter,  evidently,  of 
one  of  these  ladies,  and  an  object  of  loving  pride  to  both.  These  three 
seemed  at  home  in  their  surroundings,  and  were  absorbed  in  the  packet 
of  letters  and  papers  they  had  just  received  at  the  station.  It  was  evi- 
dent that  they  were  not  new  arrivals,  as  were  the  other  passengers,  who 
studied  them  with  the  half-envious  feelings  with  which  new-comers  at 
a  summer  resort  are  apt  to  regard  those  who  seem  to  have  been  long 
established  there,  and  who  gathered  from  the  scraps  of  conversation 
that  they  had  merely  been  over  to  say  good-by  to  friends  leaving  on  the 
very  train  which  brought  in  the  rest  of  what  we  good  Americans  term 
"the  'bus-load."  There  were  women  among  the  newly-arrived  who 
inspected  the  dark  girl  with  that  calm,  unflinching,  impertinent  scrutiny 
and  half-audibly  whispered  comment  which,  had  they  been  of  the  oppo- 
site sex,  would  have  warranted  their  being  kicked  out  of  the  conveyance, 
but  which  was  ignored  by  the  fair  object  and  her  friends  as  completely 
as  were  the  commentators  themselves.  There  were  one  or  two  men  in 
the  omnibus  who  might  readily  have  been  forgiven  an  admiring  glance 
or  two  at  so  bright  a  vision  of  girlish  beauty  as  was  Miss  Renwick  this 
August  afternoon,  and  they  had  looked  ;  but  the  one  who  most  attracted 


806  FROM   THE  RANKS. 

the  notice  of  Mrs.  Maynard  and  Aunt  Grace — a  tall,  stalwart,  dis- 
tinguished-looking party  in  gray  travelling-dress — had  taken  his  seat 
close  to  the  door  and  was  deep  in  the  morning's  paper  before  they  were 
fairly  away  from  the  station. 

Laying  down  the  letter  she  had  just  finished  reading,  Mrs.  Maynard 
glanced  at  her  daughter,  who  was  still  engaged  in  one  of  her  own,  and 
evidently  with  deep  interest. 

" From  Fort  Sibley,  Alice?" 

"Yes,  mamma,  all  three, — Miss  Craven,  Mrs.  Hoyt,  and — Mr. 
Jerrold.  Would  you  like  to  see  it  ?"  And,  with  rising  color,  she  held 
forth  the  one  in  her  hand. 

"  Not  now,"  was  the  answer,  with  a  smile  that  told  of  confidence 
and  gratification  both.     "  It  is  about  the  german,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  Yes.  He  thinks  it  outrageous  that  we  should  not  be  there, — says 
it  is  to  be  the  prettiest  ever  given  at  the  fort,  and  that  Mrs.  Hoyt  and 
Mrs.  Craven,  who  are  the  managers  for  the  ladies,  had  asked  him  to 
lead.     He  wants  to  know  if  we  cannot  possibly  come." 

"  Are  you  not  very  eager  to  go,  Alice  ?  I  should  be,"  said  Aunt 
Grace,  with  sympathetic  interest. 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  answered  Miss  Renwick,  reflectively.  "  It  had  been 
arranged  that  it  should  come  off  next  week,  when,  as  was  supposed,  we 
would  be  home  after  this  visit.  It  cannot  be  postponed,  of  course, 
because  it  is  given  in  honor  of  all  the  officers  who  are  gathered  there 
for  the  rifle-competition,  and  that  will  be  all  over  and  done  with  to-day, 
and  they  cannot  stay  beyond  Tuesday  next.  We  must  give  it  up, 
auntie,"  and  she  looked  up  smilingly,  "and  you  have  made  it  so 
lovely  for  me  here  that  I  can  do  it  without  a  sigh.  Think  of  that ! — 
an  army  german  ! — and  Fanny  Craven  says  the  favors  are  to  be  simply 
lovely.  Yes,  I  did  want  to  go,  but  papa  said  he  felt  unequal  to  it  the 
moment  he  got  back  from  Chicago,  day  before  yesterday,  and  he  cer- 
tainly does  not  look  at  all  well :  so  that  ended  it,  and  I  wrote  at  once 
to  Mrs.  Hoyt.     This  is  her  answer  now." 

"  What  does  she  say  ?" 

"  Oh,  it  is  very  kind  of  her :  she  wants  me  to  come  and  be  her 
guest  if  the  colonel  is  too  ill  to  come  and  mamma  will  not  leave  him. 
She  says  Mr.  Hoyt  will  come  down  and  escort  me.  But  I  would  not 
lilce  to  go  without  mamma,"  and  the  big  dark  eyes  looked  up  wistfully, 
"  and  I  know  she  does  not  care  to  urge  papa  when  he  seems  so  indis- 
posed to  going." 

Mrs.  Maynard's  eyes  were  anxious  and  troubled  now.  She  turned 
to  her  sister-in-law : 

"  Do  you  think  he  seems  any  better,  Grace  ?     I  do  not." 

"  It  is  hard  to  say.  He  was  so  nervously  anxious  to  get  away  to 
see  the  general  the  very  day  you  arrived  here  that  there  was  not  a 
moment  in  which  I  could  ask  him  about  himself;  and  since  his  return 
he  has  avoided  all  mention  of  it  beyond  saying  it  is  nothing  but  indi- 
gestion and  he  would  be  all  right  in  a  few  days.  I  never  knew  him  to 
suffer  in  that  way  in  my  life.  Is  there  any  regimental  matter  that  can 
be  troubling  him  ?"  she  asked,  in  lower  tone. 

"Nothing  of  any  consequence  whatever.     Of  course  the  officers 


.  FROM  THE  RANKS.  807 

feel  chagrined  over  their  defeat  in  the  rifle-match.  They  had  expected 
to  stand  very  high,  but  Mr.  Jerrold's  shooting  was  unexpectedly  below 
the  average,  and  it  threw  their  team  behind.  But  the  colonel  didn't 
make  the  faintest  allusion  to  it.  That  hasn't  worried  him  anywhere 
near  as  much  as  it  has  the  others,  I  should  judge." 

"I  do  not  think  it  was  all  Mr.  Jerrold's  fault,  mamma,"  said 
Miss  Renwick,  with  gentle  reproach  and  a  very  becoming  flush.  "  I'm 
going  to  stand  up  for  him,  beeliuse  I  think  they  all  blame  him  for 
other  men's  poor  work.  He  was  not  the  only  one  on  our  team  whose 
shooting  was  below  former  scores." 

"  They  claim  that  none  fell  so  far  below  their  expectations  as  he, 
Alice.  You  know  I  am  no  judge  of  such  matters,  but  Mr.  Hoyt  and 
Captain  Gray  both  write  the  colonel  that  Mr.  Jerrold  had  been  taking 
no  care" of  himself  whatever  and  was  entirely  out  of  form." 

"  In  any  event  I'm  glad  the  cavalry  did  no  better,"  was  Miss  Ren- 
wick's  loyal  response.  "  You  remember  the  evening  we  rode  out  to 
the  range  and  Captain  Gray  said  that  there  was  the  man  who  would 
win  the  first  prize  from  Mr.  Jerrold, — that  tall  cavalry  sergeant  who 
fainted  away, — Sergeant  McLeod;  don't  you  remember,  mother? 
Well,  he  did  not  even  get  a  place,  and  Mr.  Jerrold  beat  him  easily." 

Something  in  her  mother's  eyes  warned  her  to  be  guarded,  and,  in 
that  indefinable  but  unerring  system  of  feminine  telegraphy,  called  her 
attention  to  the  man  sitting  by  the  door.  Looking  quickly  to  her 
right.  Miss  Renwick  saw  that  he  was  intently  regarding  her.  At  the 
mention  of  Fort  Sibley  the  stranger  had  lowered  his  paper,  revealing 
a  bronzed  face  clean-shaven  except  for  the  thick  blonde  moustache, 
and  a  pair  of  clear,  steady,  searching  blue  eyes  under  heavy  brows 
and  lashes,  and  these  eyes  were  very  deliberately  yet  respectfully  fixed 
upon  her  own ;  nor  were  they  withdrawn  in  proper  confusion  when 
detected.  It  was  Miss  Renwick  whose  eyes  gave  up  the  contest  and 
returned  in  some  sense  of  defeat  to  her  mother's  face. 

"  What  letters  have  you  for  the  colonel?"  asked  Mrs.  Maynard, 
coming  au  secours. 

"  Three, — two  of  them  from  his  devoted  henchman  Captain  Chester, 
who  writes  by  every  mail,  I  should  imagine ;  and  these  he  will  go  off 
into  some  secluded  nook  with  and  come  back  looldng  blue  and  worried. 
Then  here's  another,  forwarded  from  Sibley,  too.  I  do  not  know  this 
hand.  Perhaps  it  is  from  Captain  Armitage,  who,  they  say,  is  to  come 
back  next  month.     Poor  Mr.  Jerrold  !" 

"  Why  poor  Mr.  Jerrold  ?"  asked  Aunt  Grace,  with  laughing  in- 
terest, as  she  noted  the  expression  on  her  niece's  pretty  face. 

"  Because  he  can't  bear  Captain  Armitage,  and " 

"  Now,  Alice  !"  said  her  mother,  reprovingly.  "  You  must  not  take 
his  view  of  the  captain  at  all.  Remember  what  the  colonel  said  of 
him " 

"  Mother  dear,"  protested  Alice,  laughing,  "  I  have  no  doubt  Cap- 
tain Armitage  is  the  paragon  of  a  soldier,  but  he  is  unquestionably  a 
most  unpleasant  and  ungentlemanly  person  in  his  conduct  to  the  young 
ofiicers.  Mr.  Hall  has  told  me  the  same  thing.  I  declare,  I  don't  see 
how  they  can  speak  to  him  at  all,  he  has  been  so  harsh  and  discourteous 


808  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

and  unjust."  The  color  was  rising  in  earnest  now,  but  a  warning  glance 
in  her  mother's  eye  seemed  to  check  further  words.  There  was  an  in- 
stant's silence.     Then  Aunt  Grace  remarked, — 

"  Alice,  your  next-door  neighbor  has  vanished.  I  think  your  vehe- 
mence has  frightened  him." 

Surely  enough,  the  big,  blue-eyed  man  in  tweeds  had  disappeared. 
During  this  brief  controversy  he  had  quickly  and  noiselessly  let  him- 
self out  of  the  open  door,  swung  lightly  to  the  ground,  and  was  out  of 
sight  among  the  trees. 

"  Why,  what  a  strange  proceeding !"  said  Aunt  Grace  again. 
"  We  are  fully  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the  hotel,  and  he  means  to  walk 
it  in  this  glaring  sun.'^ 

Evidently  he  did.  The  driver  reined  up  at  the  moment  in  response 
to  a  suggestion  from  some  one  in  a  forward  seat,  and  there  suddenly  ap- 
peared by  the  wayside,  striding  out  from  the  shelter  of  the  sumachs,  the 
athletic  figure  of  the  stranger. 

"  Go  ahead !"  he  called,  in  a  deep  chest-voice  that  had  an  unmis- 
takable ring  to  it, — the  tone  that  one  so  readily  recognizes  in  men 
accustomed  to  prompt  action  and  command.  "  I'm  going  across  lots." 
And,  swinging  his  heavy  stick,  with  quick,  elastic  steps  and  erect  car- 
riage the  man  in  gray  plunged  into  a  wood-path  and  was  gone. 

"  Alice,"  said  Aunt  Grace,  again,  "  that  man  is  an  officer,  I'm  sure, 
and  you  have  driven  him  into  exile  and  lonely  wandering.  I've  seen 
so  much  of  them  when  visiting  my  brother  in  the  old  days  before  my 
marriage  that  even  in  civilian  dress  it  is  easy  to  tell  some  of  them. 
Just  look  at  that  back,  and  those  shoulders  !  He  has  been  a  soldier  all 
his  life.     Horrors  !  suppose  it  should  be  Captain  Armitage  himself!" 

Miss  Renwick  looked  genuinely  distressed,  as  well  as  vexed.  Cer- 
tainly no  officer  but  Captain  Armitage  would  have  had  reason  to  leave 
the  stage.  Certainly  officers  and  their  families  occasionally  visited 
Sablon  in  the  summer-time,  but  Captain  Armitage  could  hardly  be 
here.  There  was  comforting  assurance  in  the  very  note  she  held  in 
her  hand. 

"  It  cannot  be,"  she  said,  "  because  Mr.  Jerrold  writes  that  they 
have  just  heard  from  him  at  Sibley.  He  is  still  at  the  sea-shore,  and 
will  not  return  for  a  month.  Mr.  Jerrold  says  he  implored  Captain 
Chester  to  let  him  have  three  days'  leave  to  come  down  here  and  have 
a  sail  and  a  picnic  with  us,  and  was  told  that  it  would  be  out  of  the 
question." 

"■  Did  he  tell  you  any  other  news  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Maynard,  looking 
up  from  her  letter  again, — "  anything  about  the  german  ?" 

"  He  says  he  thinks  it  a  shame  we  are  to  be  away  and — well,  read 
it  yourself."  And  she  placed  it  in  her  mother's  hands,  the  dark  eyes 
seriously,  anxiously  studying  her  face  as  she  read.  Presently  Mrs. 
Maynard  laid  it  down  and  looked  again  into  her  own,  then,  pointing  to 
a  certain  passage  with  her  finger,  handed  it  to  her  daughter. 

"Men  were  deceivers  ever,"  she  said,  laughing,  yet  oracularly 
significant. 

And  Alice  Renwick  could  not  quite  control  the  start  with  which 
she  read, — 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  809 

"  Mr.  Jerrold  is  to  lead  with  his  old  love,  Nina  Beaubien.  They 
make  a  capital  pair,  and  she,  of  course,  will  be  radiant — with  Alice  out 
of  the  way." 

"  That  is  something  Mr.  Jerrold  failed  to  mention,  is  it  not  ?" 

Miss  Renwick's  cheeks  were  flushed,  and  the  dark  eyes  were  fiUed 
with  sudden  pain,  as  she  answered, — 

"I  did  not  know  she  was  there.  She  was  to  have  gone  to  the 
Lakes  the  same  day  we  left." 

"  She  did  go,  Alice,"  said  her  mother,  quietly,  "  but  it  was  only  for 
a  brief  visit,  it  seems." 

The  colonel  was  not  at  their  cottage  when  the  omnibus  reached  the 
lake.  Over  at  the  hotel  were  the  usual  number  of  loungers  gathered  to 
see  the  new  arrivals,  and  Alice  presently  caught  sight  of  the  colonel 
coming  through  the  park.  If  anything,  he  looked  more  listless  and 
dispirited  than  he  had  before  they  left.  She  ran  down  the  steps  to 
meet  him,  smiling  brightly  up  into  his  worn  and  haggard  face. 

"Are  you  feeling  a  little  brighter,  papa?  Here  are  letters  for 
you." 

He  took  them  wearily,  barely  glancing  at  the  superscriptions. 

"  I  had  hoped  for  something  more,"  he  said,  and  passed  on  into  the 
little  frame  house  which  was  his  sister's  summer  home.  "  Is  your 
mother  here?"  he  asked,  looking  back  as  he  entered  the  door. 

"  In  the  north  room,  with  Aunt  Grace,  papa,"  she  answered ;  and 
then  once  more  and  with  graver  face  she  began  to  read  Mr.  Jerrold's 
letter.  It  was  a  careful  study  she  was  making  of  it  this  time,  and  not 
altogether  a  pleasant  one.  Aunt  Grace  came  out  and  made  some  laugh- 
ing remark  at  seeing  her  still  so  occupied.  She  looked  up,  pluckily 
smiling  despite  a  sense  of  wounded  pride,  and  answered, — 

"  I  am  only  convincing  myself  that  it  was  purely  on  general  prin- 
ciples that  Mr.  Jerrold  seemed  so  anxious  I  should  be  there.  He  never 
wanted  me  to  lead  with  him  at  all."  All  the  same  it  stung,  and  Aunt 
Grace  saw  and  knew  it,  and  longed  to  take  her  to  her  heart  and  com- 
fort her ;  but  it  was  better  so.     She  was  finding  him  out  unaided. 

She  was  still  studying  over  portions  of  that  ingenious  letter,  when 
the  rustle  of  her  aunt's  gown  indicated  that  she  was  rising.  She  saw 
her  move  towards  the  steps,  heard  a  quick,  firm  tread  upon  the  narrow 
planking,  and  glanced  up  in  surprise.  There,  uncovering  his  close- 
cropped  head,  stood  the  tall  stranger,  looking  placidly  up  as  he  addressed 
Aunt  Grace : 

"  Pardon  me,  can  I  see  Colonel  Maynard  ?" 

"  He  is  at  home.  Pray  come  up  and  take  a  chair.  I  will  let  him 
know.  I — I  felt  sure  you  mast  be  some  friend  of  his  when  I  saw  you 
in  the  stage,"  said  the  good  lady,  with  manifest  and  apologetic  uneasiness. 

"  Yes,"  responded  the  stranger,  as  he  quickly  ascended  the  steps 
and  bowed  before  her,  smiling  quietly  the  while.  "  Let  me  intro- 
duce myself.     I  am  Captain  Armitage,  of  the  colonel's  regiment," 

"  There  !  I  knew  it !"  was  Aunt  Grace's  response,  as  with  both 
hands  uplifted  in  tragic  despair  she  gave  one  horror-stricken  glance  at 
Alice  and  rushed  into  the  house. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence ;  then,  with  burning  cheeks,  but 
Vol.  XL.— 53 


810  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

with  brave  eyes  that  looked  frankly  into  his,  Alice  Renwick  arose, 
came  straight  up  to  him,  and  held  out  her  pretty  hand. 

"  Captain  Arraitage,  I  beg  your  pardon." 

He  took  the  extended  hand  and  gazed  earnestly  into  her  face,  while 
a  kind — almost  merry — smile  lighted  up  his  own. 

"  Have  the  boys  given  me  such  an  uncanny  reputation  as  all  that  ?" 
he  asked ;  and  then,  as  though  tickled  with  the  comicality  of  the  situ- 
ation, he  began  to  laugh.  "  What  ogres  some  of  us  old  soldiers  do 
become  in  the  course  of  years !  Do  you  know,  young  lady,  I  might 
never  have  suspected  what  a  brute  I  was  if  it  had  not  been  for  you  ? 
What  a  blessed  thing  it  was  the  colonel  did  not  tell  you  I  was  coming ! 
You  would  never  have  given  me  this  true  insight  into  my  character." 

But  she  saw  nothing  to  laugh  at,  and  would  not  laugh.  Her  lovely 
face  was  still  burning  with  blushes  and  dismay  and  full  of  trouble. 

"  I  do  not  look  upon  it  lightly  at  all,"  she  said.  "  It  was  unpardon- 
able in  me  to — to " 

"  To  take  so  effective  and  convincing  a  method  of  telling  a  man  of 
his  grievous  sins  !  Not  a  bit  of  it.  I  like  a  girl  who  has  the  courage 
to  stand  up  for  her  friends.  I  shall  congratulate  Jerrold  and  Hall  both 
when  I  get  back,  lucky  fellows  that  they  are  !"  And  evidently  Captain 
Armitage  was  deriving  altogether  too  much  jolly  entertainment  from  her 
awkwardness.     She  rallied  and  strove  to  put  an  end  to  it. 

"  Indeed,  Captain  Armitage,  I  do  think  the  young  officers  sorely 
need  friends  and  advocates  at  times.  I  never  would  have  knowingly 
spoken  to  you  of  your  personal  responsibilities  in  the  woes  of  Mr.  Jer- 
rold and  Mr.  Hall,  but  since  I  have  done  so  unwittingly  I  may  as  well 
define  my  position,  especially  as  you  are  so  good-natured  with  it  all." 
And  here,  it  must  be  admitted.  Miss  Renwick's  beautiful  eyes  were 
shyly  lifted  to  his  in  a  most  telling  way.  Once  there,  they  looked 
squarely  into  the  clear  blue  depths  of  his,  and  never  flinched.  "  It 
seemed  to  me  several  times  at  Sibley  that  the  young  officers  deserved 
more  consideration  and  courtesy  than  their  captains  accorded  them.  It 
was  not  you  alone  that  I  heard  of." 

"  I  am  profoundly  gratified  to  learn  that  somebody  else  is  a  brute," 
he  answered,  trying  to  look  grave,  but  with  that  irrepressible  merriment 
twitching  at  the  corners  of  his  mouth  and  giving  sudden  gleams  of  his 
firm  white  teeth  through  the  thick  moustache.  "  You  are  come  to  us 
just  in  time,  Miss  Renwick,  and  if  you  will  let  me  come  and  tell  you 
all  my  sorrows  the  next  time  the  colonel  pitches  into  me  for  something 
wrong  in  B  Company,  I'll  give  you  full  permission  to  overhaul  me  for 
everything  or  anything  I  say  and  do  to  the  youngsters.  Is  it  a 
bargain  ?"     And  he  held  out  his  big,  firm  hand. 

"  I  think  you  are — very  different  from  what  I  heard,"  was  all  her 
answer,  as  she  looked  up  in  his  eyes,  twinkling  as  they  were  with  fun. 
"  Oh,  we  are  to  shake  hands  on  it  as  a  bargain  ?  Is  that  it  ?  Very 
well,  then." 

IX. 

When  Captain  Armitage  left  the  cottage  that  night  he  did  not  go 
at  once  to  his  own  room.    Brief  as  was  the  conversation  he  had  enjoyed 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  811 

with  Miss  Ren  wick,  it  was  all  that  Fate  vouchsafed  him  for  that  date 
at  least.  The  entire  party  went  to  tea  together  at  the  hotel,  but  im- 
mediately thereafter  the  colonel  carried  Armitage  away,  and  for  two 
long  hours  they  were  closeted  over  some  lettei-s  that  had  come  from 
Sibley,  and  when  the  conference  broke  up  and  the  wondering  ladies  saw 
the  two  men  come  forth  it  was  late, — almost  ten  o'clock, — and  the 
captain  did  not  venture  beyond  the  threshold  of  the  sitting-room.  He 
bowed  and  bade  them  a  somewhat  ceremonious  good-night.  His  eyes 
rested — lingered — on  Miss  Renwick's  uplifted  face,  and  it  was  the 
picture  he  took  with  him  into  the  stillness  of  the  summer  night. 

The  colonel  accompanied  him  to  the  steps,  and  rested  his  hand  upon 
the  broad  gray  shoulder. 

"  God  only  knows  how  I  have  needed  you,  Armitage.  This  trouble 
has  nearly  crushed  me,  and  it  seemed  as  though  I  were  utterly  alone. 
I  had  the  haunting  fear  that  it  was  only  weakness  on  my  part  and  my 
love  for  my  wife  that  made  me  stand  out  against  Chester's  propositions. 
He  can  only  see  guilt  and  conviction  in  every  new  phase  of  the  case, 
and,  though  you  see  how  he  tries  to  spare  me,  his  letters  give  no  hope 
of  any  other  conclusion." 

Armitage  pondered  a  moment  before  he  answered.  Then  he  slowly 
spoke ; 

"  Chester  has  lived  a  lonely  and  an  unhappy  life.  His  first  experi- 
ence after  graduation  was  that  wretched  affair  of  which  you  have  told 
me.  Of  course  I  knew  much  of  the  particulars  before,  but  not  all.  I 
respect  Chester  as  a  soldier  and  a  gentleman,  and  I  like  him  and  trust 
him  as  a  friend ;  but.  Colonel  Maynard,  in  a  matter  of  such  vital  im- 
portance as  this,  and  one  of  such  delicacy,  I  distrust,  not  his  motives, 
but  his  judgment.  All  his  life,  practically,  he  has  been  brooding  over 
the  sorrow  that  came  to  him  when  your  trouble  came  to  you,  and  his 
mind  is  grooved :  he  believes  he  sees  mystery  and  intrigue  in  matters 
that  others  might  explain  in  an  instant." 

"  But  think  of  all  the  array  of  evidence  he  has." 

"  Enough,  and  more  than  enough,  I  admit,  to  warrant  everything 
he  has  thought  or  said  of  the  man ;  but " 

"  He  simply  puts  it  this  way.  If  he  be  guilty,  can  she  be  less  ? 
Is  it  possible,  Armitage,  that  you  are  unconvinced  ?" 

"  Certainly  I  am  unconvinced.  The  matter  has  not  yet  been  sifted. 
As  I  understand  it,  you  have  forbidden  his  confronting  Jerrold  with  the 
proofs  of  his  rascality  until  I  get  there.  Admitting  the  evidence  of  the 
ladder,  the  picture,  and  the  form  at  the  window, — ay,  the  letter,  too, — 
I  am  yet  to  be  convinced  of  one  thing.  You  must  remember  that  his 
judgment  is  biassed  by  his  early  experiences.  He  fancies  that  no 
woman  is  proof  against  such  fascinations  as  Jerrold's." 

"  And  your  belief?" 

"  Is  that  some  women — many  women — are  utterly  above  such  a 
possibility." 

Old  Maynard  wrung  his  comrade's  hand.  "  You  make  me  hope 
in  spite  of  myself, — my  past  experiences, — my  very  senses,  Armitage. 
I  have  leaned  on  you  so  many  years  that  I  missed  you  sorely  when 
this  trial  came.     If  you  had  been  there,  things  might  not  have  taken 


812  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

this  shape.  He  looks  upon  Chester — and  it's  one  thing  Chester 
hasn't  forgiven  in  him — as  a  meddling  old  granny ;  you  remember  the 
time  he  so  spoke  of  him  last  year ;  but  he  holds  you  in  respect,  or  is 
afraid  of  you, — which  in  a  man  of  his  calibre  is  about  the  same  thing. 
It  may  not  be  too  late  for  you  to  act.  Then  when  he  is  disposed  of  once 
and  for  all,  I  can  know  what  must  be  done — where  she  is  concerned." 

"  And  under  no  circumstances  can  you  question  Mrs.  Maynard  ?" 

"  No !  no !  If  she  suspected  anything  of  this  it  would  kill  her. 
In  any  event,  she  must  have  no  suspicion  of  it  now." 

"But  does  she  not  ask?  Has  she  no  theory  about  the  missing 
photograph  ?     Surely  she  must  marvel  over  its  disappearance." 

"She  does;  at  least,  she  did;  but — I'm  ashamed  to  own  it,  Armi- 
tage — we  had  to  quiet  her  natural  suspicions  in  some  way,  and  I  told  her 
that  it  was  my  doing, — that  I  took  it  to  tease  Alice,  put  the  photograph 
in  the  drawer  of  my  desk,  and  hid  the  frame  behind  her  sofa-pillow. 
Chester  knows  of  the  arrangement,  and  we  had  settled  that  when  the 
picture  was  recovered  from  Mr.  Jerrold  he  would  send  it  to  me." 

Armitage  was  silent.  A  frown  settled  on  his  forehead,  and  it  was 
evident  that  the  statement  was  far  from  welcome  to  him.  Presently  he 
held  forth  his  hand. 

"  Well,  good-night,  sir.  I  must  go  and  have  a  quiet  think  over 
this.     I  hope  you  will  rest  well.     You  need  it,  colonel." 

But  Maynard  only  shook  his  head.  His  lieart  was  too  troubled 
for  rest  of  any  kind.  He  stood  gazing  out  towards  the  park,  where 
the  tall  figure  of  his  ex-adjutant  had  disappeared  among  the  trees.  He 
heard  the  low-toned,  pleasant  chat  of  the  ladies  in  the  sitting-room,  but 
he  was  in  no  mood  to  join  them.  He  wished  that  Armitage  had  not 
gone,  he  felt  such  strength  and  comparative  hope  in  his  presence ; 
but  it  was  plain  that  even  Armitage  was  confounded  by  the  array  of 
facts  and  circumstances  that  he  had  so  painfully  and  slowly  communi- 
cated to  him.  The  colonel  went  drearily  back  to  the  room  in  which 
they  had  had  their  long  conference.  His  wife  and  sister  both  hailed 
him  as  he  passed  the  sitting-room  door,  and  urged  him  to  come  and 
join  them, — they  wanted  to  ask  about  Captain  Armitage,  with  whom 
it  was  evident  they  were  much  impressed  ;  but  he  answered  that  he 
had  some  letters  to  put  away,  and  he  must  attend  first  to  that. 

Among  those  that  had  been  shown  to  the  captain,  mainly  letters 
from  Chester  telling  of  the  daily  events  at  the  fort  and  of  liis  surveil- 
lance in  the  case  of  Jerrold,  was  one  which  Alice  had  brought  him  two 
days  before.  This  had  seemed  to  him  of  unusual  importance,  as  the 
others  contained  nothing  that  tended  to  throw  new  light  on  the  case. 
It  said, — 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  telegraphed  for  Armitage,  and  heartily  ap- 
prove your  decision  to  lay  the  whole  case  before  him.  I  presume  he 
can  reach  you  by  Sunday,  and  that  by  Tuesday  he  will  be  here  at  the 
fort  and  ready  to  act.  This  will  be  a  great  relief  to  me,  for,  do  what 
I  could  to  allay  it,  there  is  no  concealing  the  fact  that  much  speculation 
and  gossip  is  afloat  concerning  the  events  of  that  unliappy  night. 
Leary  declares  he  has  been  close-mouthed ;  the  other  men  on  guard 
know  absolutely  nothing,  and  Captain  Wilton  is  the  only  officer  to 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  813 

whom  in  my  distress  of  miud  I  betrayed  that  there  was  a  mystery,  and 
he  has  pledged  himself  to  me  to  say  nothing.  Sloat,  too,  has  an  ink- 
ling, and  a  big  one,  that  Jerrold  is  the  suspected  party ;  but  I  never 
dreamed  that  anything  had  been  seen  or  heard  which  in  the  faintest 
way  connected  your  household  with  the  matter,  until  yesterday.  Then 
Leary  admitted  to  me  that  two  women,  Mrs.  Clifford's  cook  and  the 
doctor's  nursery-maid,  had  asked  him  whether  it  wasn't  Lieutenant 
Jerrold  he  fired  at,  and  if  it  was  true  that  he  was  trying  to  get  in  at 
the  colonel's  back  door.  Twice  Mrs.  Clifford  has  asked  me  very  sig- 
nificant questions,  and  three  times  to-day  have  officers  made  remarks  to 
me  that  indicated  their  knowledge  of  the  existence  of  some  grave 
trouble.  What  makes  matters  worse  is  that  Jerrold,  when  twitted 
about  his  absence  from  reveille,  loses  his  temper  and  gets  confused. 
There  came  near  being  a  quarrel  between  him  and  Rollins  at  the  mess 
a  day  or  two  since.  He  was  saying  that  the  reason  he  slept  through 
roll-call  was  the  fact  that  he  had  been  kept  up  very  late  at  the  doctor's 
party,  and  Rollins  happened  to  come  in  at  the  moment  and  blurted  out 
that  if  he  was  up  at  all  it  must  have  been  after  he  left  the  party,  and 
reminded  him  that  he  had  left  before  midnight  with  ISliss  Ren  wick. 
This  completely  staggered  Jerrold,  who  grew  confused  and  tried  to 
cover  it  with  a  display  of  anger.  Now,  two  weeks  ago  Rollins  was 
most  friendly  to  Jerrold  and  stood  up  for  him  when  I  assailed  him, 
but  ever  since  that  night  he  has  had  no  word  to  say  for  him.  When 
Jerrold  played  wrathful  and  accused  Rollins  of  mixing  in  other  men's 
business,  Rollins  bounced  up  to  him  like  a  young  bull-terrier,  and  I 
believe  there  would  have  been  a  row  had  not  Sloat  and  Hoyt  promptly 
interfered.  Jerrold  apologized,  and  Rollins  accepted  the  apology,  but 
has  avoided  him  ever  since, — won't  speak  of  him  to  me,  now  that  I 
have  reason  to  want  to  draw  him  out.  As  soon  as  Armitage  gets  here 
he  can  do  what  I  cannot, — find  out  just  what  and  who  is  suspected  and 
talked  about. 

"  Mr.  Jerrold,  of  course,  avoids  me.  He  has  been  attending  strictly 
to  his  duty,  and  is  evidently  confounded  that  I  did  not  press  the  matter 
of  his  going  to  town  as  he  did  the  day  I  forbade  it.  Mr.  Hoyt's  being 
too  late  to  see  him  personally  gave  me  sufficient  grounds  on  which  to  ex- 
cuse it ;  but  he  seems  to  understand  that  something  is  impending,  and 
is  looking  nervous  and  harassed.  He  has  not  renewed  his  request  for 
leave  of  absence  to  run  down  to  Sablon.  I  told  him  curtly  it  was  out 
of  the  question." 

The  colonel  took  a  few  strides  up  and  down  the  room.  It  had 
come,  then.  The  good  name  of  those  he  loved  was  already  besmirched 
by  garrison  gossip,  and  he  knew  that  nothing  but  heroic  measures  could 
ever  silence  scandal.  Impulse  and  the  innate  sense  of  "  fight"  urged 
him  to  go  at  once  to  the  scene,  leaving  his  wife  and  her  fair  daughter 
here  under  his  sister's  roof;  but  Armitage  and  common  sense  said  no. 
He  had  placed  his  burden  on  those  broad  gray  shoulders,  and,  though 
ill  content  to  wait,  he  felt  that  he  was  bound.  Stowing  away  the 
letters,  too  nervous  to  sleep,  too  worried  to  talk,  he  stole  from  the 
cottage,  and,  with  hands  clasped  behind  his  back,  with  low-bowed  head 
he  strolled  forth  into  the  broad  vista  of  moonlit  road. 


814  FROM  TEE  RANKS. 

There  were  bright  h'ghts  still  burning  at  the  hotel,  and  gay  voices 
came  floating  through  the  summer  air.  The  piano,  too,  was  thrumming 
a  waltz  in  the  parlor,  and  two  or  three  couples  were  throwing  em- 
bracing, slowly-twirling  shadows  on  the  windows.  Over  in  the  bar-  and 
billiard-rooms  the  click  of  the  balls  and  the  refreshing  rattle  of  cracked 
ice  told  suggestively  of  the  occupation  of  the  inmates.  Keeping  on  be- 
yond these  distracting  sounds,  he  slowly  climbed  a  long,  gradual  ascent 
to  the  "  bench,"  or  plateau  above  the  wooded  point  on  which  were 
grouped  the  glistening  white  buildings  of  the  pretty  summer  resort,  and, 
having  reached  the  crest,  turned  silently  to  gaze  at  the  beauty  of  the 
scene, — at  the  broad,  flawless  bosom  of  a  summer  lake  all  sheen  and 
silver  from  the  unclouded  moon.  Far  to  the  southeast  it  wound  among 
the  bold  and  rock-ribbed  blufi^s  rising  from  the  forest  growth  at  their 
base  to  shorn  and  rounded  summits.  Miles  away  to  the  southward 
twinkled  the  lights  of  one  busy  little  town ;  others  gleamed  and 
sparkled  over  towards  the  northern  shore,  close  under  the  pole-star; 
while  directly  opposite  frowned  a  massive  wall  of  palisaded  rock, 
that  threw,  deep  and  heavy  and  far  from  shore,  its  long  reflection  in 
the  mirror  of  water.  There  was  not  a  breath  of  air  stirring  in  the 
heavens,  not  a  ripple  on  the  face  of  the  waters  beneath,  save  where,  close 
under  the  bold  headland  down  on  the  other  side,  the  signal-lights, 
white  and  crimson  and  green,  creeping  slowly  along  in  the  shadows,  re- 
vealed one  of  the  packets  ploughing  her  steady  way  to  the  great  marts 
below.  Nearer  at  hand,  just  shaving  the  long  strip  of  sandy,  wooded 
point  that  jutted  far  out  into  the  lake,  a  broad  raft  of  timber,  pushed 
by  a  hard-working,  black-funnelled  stern-wheeler,  was  slowly  forging 
its  way  to  the  outlet  of  the  lake,  its  shadowy  edge  sprinkled  here  and 
there  with  little  sparks  of  lurid  red, — the  pilot-lights  that  gave  warning 
of  its  slow  and  silent  coming.  Far  down  along  the  southern  shore, 
under  that  black  bluff-line,  close  to  the  silver  water-edge,  a  glowing 
meteor  seemed  whirling  through  the  night,  and  the  low,  distant  rumble 
told  of  the  "Atlantic  Express"  thundering  on  its  journey.  Here, 
along  with  him  on  the  level  plateau,  were  other  roomy  cottages,  some 
dark,  some  still  sending  forth  a  guiding  ray  ;  while  long  lines  of  white- 
washed fence  gleamed  ghostly  in  the  moonlight  and  were  finally  lost  in 
the  shadow  of  the  great  bluff  that  abruptly  shut  in  the  entire  point 
and  plateau  and  shut  out  all  further  sight  of  lake  or  land  in  that  direc- 
tion. Far  beneath  he  could  hear  the  soft  plash  upon  the  sandy  shore 
of  the  little  wavelets  that  came  sweeping  in  the  wake  of  the  raftrboat 
and  spending  their  tiny  strength  upon  the  strand ;  far  down  on  the 
hotel  point  he  could  still  hear  the  soft  melody  of  the  waltz ;  he  re- 
membered how  the  band  used  to  play  that  same  air,  and  wondered  why 
it  was  he  used  to  like  it;  it  jarred  him  now.  Presently  the  distant 
crack  of  a  whip  and  the  low  rumble  of  wheels  were  heard  :  the  omni- 
bus coming  back  from  the  station  with  passengers  from  the  night  train. 
He  was  in  no  mood  to  see  any  one.  He  turned  away  and  walked 
northward  along  the  edge  of  the  bench,  towards  the  deep  shadow  of 
the  great  shoulder  of  the  bluff,  and  presently  he  came  to  a  long  flight 
of  wooden  stairs,  leading  from  the  plateau  down  to  the  hotel,  and  here 
he  stopped  and  seated  himself  awhile.     He  did  not  want  to  go  home 


FROM   THE  RANKS.  815 

yet.  He  wanted  to  be  by  himself, — to  think  and  brood  over  his 
trouble.  He  saw  the  omnibus  go  round  the  bend  and  roll  up  to  the 
hotel  door-way  with  its  load  of  pleasure-seekers,  and  heard  the  joyous 
welcome  with  which  some  of  their  number  were  received  by  waiting 
friends,  but  life  had  little  of  joy  to  him  this  night.  He  longed  to  go 
away, — anywhere,  anywhere,  could  he  only  leave  this  haunting  misery 
behind.  He  was  so  proud  of  his  regiment ;  he  had  been  so  happy  in 
bringing  home  to  it  his  accomplished  and  gracious  wife ;  he  had  been 
so  joyous  in  planning  for  the  lovely  times  Alice  was  to  have, — the 
social  successes,  the  girlish  triumphs,  the  garrison  gayeties  of  which 
she  was  to  be  the  queen, — and  now,  so  very,  very  soon,  all  had  turned 
to  ashes  and  desolation !  She  was  so  beautiful,  so  sweet,  winning, 
graceful.  Oh,  God  !  could  it  be  that  one  so  gifted  could  possibly  be 
so  base?  He  rose  in  nervous  misery  and  clinched  his  hands  high  in 
air,  then  sat  down  again  with  hiding,  hopeless  flice,  rocking  to  and  fro 
as  sways  a  man  in  mortal  pain.  It  was  long  before  he  rallied  and 
again  wearily  arose.  Most  of  the  lights  were  gone ;  silence  had  settled 
down  upon  the  sleeping  point ;  he  was  chilled  with  the  night  air  and 
the  dew,  and  stiff  and  heavy  as  he  tried  to  walk.  Down  at  the  foot  of 
the  stairs  he  could  see  the  night-watchman  making  his  rounds.  He  did 
not  want  to  explain  matters  and  talk  with  him  :  he  would  go  around. 
There  was  a  steep  pathway  down  into  the  ravine  that  gave  into  the 
lake  just  beyond  his  sister's  cottage,  and  this  he  sought  and  followed, 
moving  slowly  and  painfully,  but  finally  reaching  the  grassy  level  of 
the  pathway  that  connected  the  cottages  with  the  wood-road  up  the 
bluff.  Trees  and  shrubbery  were  thick  on  both  sides,  and  the  path 
was  shaded.  He  turned  to  his  right,  and  came  down  until  once  more 
he  was  in  sight  of  the  white  walls  of  the  hotel  standing  out  there  on 
the  point,  until  close  at  hand  he  could  see  the  light  of  his  own  cottage 
glimmering  like  faithful  beacon  through  the  trees ;  and  then  he  stopped 
short. 

A  tall,  slender  figure — a  man  in  dark,  snug-fitting  clothing — was 
creeping  stealthily  up  to  the  cottage  window. 

The  colonel  held  his  breath :  his  heart  thumped  violently :  he 
waited, — watched.  He  saw  the  dark  figure  reach  the  blinds ;  he  saw 
them  slowly,  softly  turned,  and  the  faint  light  gleaming  from  within ; 
he  saw  the  figure  peering  in  between  the  slats,  and  then — God  !  was  it 
possible? — a  low  voice,  a  man's  voice,  whispering  or  hoarsely  mur- 
muring a  name :  he  heard  a  sudden  movement  within  the  room,  as 
though  the  occupant  had  heard  and  were  replying,  "  Coming."  Hjs 
blood  froze :  it  was  not  Alice's  room  :  it  was  his, — his  and  hers — his 
wife's, — and  that  was  surely  her  step  approaching  the  window.  Yes, 
the  blind  was  quickly  opened.  A  white-robed  figure  stood  at  the 
casement.  He  could  see,  hear,  bear  no  more :  with  one  mad  rush  he 
sprang  from  his  lair  and  hurled  himself  upon  the  shadowy  stranger. 

"  You  hound  !  who  are  you  ?" 

But  'twas  no  shadow  that  he  grasped.  A  muscular  arm  was  round 
him  in  a  trice,  a  brawny  hand  at  his  throat,  a  twisting,  sinewy  leg  was 
curled  in  his,  and  he  went  reeling  back  upon  the  springy  turf,  stunned 
and  wellnigh  breathless. 


816  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

When  he  could  regain  his  feet  and  reach  the  casement  the  stranger 
had  vanished  ;  but  Mrs.  Maynard  lay  there  on  the  floor  within,  a  white 
and  senseless  heap. 


Perhaps  it  was  as  well  for  all  parties  that  Frank  Armitage  con- 
cluded that  he  must  have  another  whiff  of  tobacco  that  night  as  an 
incentive  to  the  "  think"  he  had  promised  himself  He  had  strolled 
through  the  park  to  the  grove  of  trees  out  on  the  point  and  seated 
himself  in  the  shadows.  Here  his  reflections  were  speedily  interrupted 
by  the  animated  flirtations  of  a  few  couples  who,  tiring  of  the  dance, 
came  out  into  the  coolness  of  the  night  and  the  seclusion  of  the  grove, 
where  their  murmured  words  and  soft  laughter  soon  gave  the  captain's 
nerves  a  strain  they  could  not  bear.  He  broke  cover  and  betook  him- 
self to  the  very  edge  of  the  stone  retaining  wall  out  on  the  point. 

He  wanted  to  think  calmly  and  dispassionately ;  he  meant  to  weigh 
all  he  had  read  and  heard  and  form  his  estimate  of  the  gravity  of  the 
case  before  going  to  bed.  He  meant  to  be  impartial, — to  judge  her  as 
he  would  judge  any  other  woman  so  compromised ;  but  for  the  life  of 
liim  he  could  not.  He  bore  with  him  the  mute  image  of  her  lovely 
face,  with  its  clear,  truthful,  trustful  dark  eyes.  He  saw  her  as  she 
stood  before  him  on  the  little  porch  when  they  shook  hands  on  their 
laughing — or  his  laughing — compact,  for  she  would  not  laugh.  How 
perfect  she  was  ! — her  radiant  beauty,  her  uplifted  eyes,  so  full  of  their 
self-reproach  and  regret  at  the  speech  she  had  made  at  his  expense  ! 
How  exquisite  was  the  grace  of  her  slender,  rounded  form  as  she  stood 
there  before  him,  one  slim  hand  half  sliyly  extended  to  meet  the  cordial 
clasp  of  his  own  !  He  wanted  to  judge  and  be  just ;  but  that  image 
dismayed  him.  How  could  he  look  on  this  picture  and  then — on  that, 
— the  one  portrayed  in  the  chain  of  circumstantial  evidence  which  the 
colonel  had  laid  before  him  ?  It  M^as  monstrous  !  it  was  treason  to 
womanhood  !  One  look  in  her  eyes,  superb  in  their  innocence,  was  too 
much  for  his  determined  impartiality.  Armitage  gave  himself  a  mental 
kick  for  what  he  termed  his  imbecility,  and  went  back  to  the  hotel. 

"  It's  no  use,"  he  muttered.  "  I'm  a  slave  of  the  weed,  and  can't 
be  philosophic  without  my  pipe." 

Up  to  his  little  box  of  a  room  he  climbed,  found  his  pipe-case  and 
tobacco-pouch,  and  in  five  minutes  was  strolling  out  to  the  point  once 
more,  when  he  came  suddenly  upon  the  night-watchman, — a  personage 
of  whose  functions  and  authority  he  was  entirely  ignorant.  The  man 
eyed  him  narrowly,  and  essayed  to  speak.  Not  knowing  him,  and 
desiring  to  be  alone,  Armitage  pushed  past,  and  was  surprised  to  find 
that  a  hand  was  on  his  shoulder  and  the  man  at  his  side  before  he  had 
gone  a  rod. 

*'  Beg  pardon,  sir,"  said  the  watchman,  gruffly,  "  but  I  don't  know 
you.     Are  you  stopping  at  the  hotel  ?" 

"  I  am,"  said  Armitage,  coolly,  taking  his  pipe  from  his  lips  and 
blowing  a  cloud  over  his  otlier  shoulder.     "  And  who  may  you  be  ?" 

"  I  am  the  watchman ;  and  I  do  not  remember  seeing  you  come 
to-day." 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  817 

"  Nevertheless  I  did." 

"  On  what  train,  sir  ?" 

"  This  aflernoon's  up-train." 

"  You  certainly  were  not  on  the  omnibus  when  it  got  here." 

"  Very  true.     I  walked  over  from  beyond  the  school-house." 

"  You  must  excuse  me,  sir.  I  did  not  think  of  that ;  and  the 
manager  requires  me  to  know  everybody.     Is  this  Major  Armitage  ?" 

"  Armitage  is  my  name,  but  I'm  not  a  major." 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I'm  glad  to  be  set  right.  And  the  other  gentleman, — 
him  as  was  inquiring  for  Colonel  Maynard  to-night?  He's  in  the 
army,  too,  but  his  name  don't  seem  to  be  on  the  book.  He  only  came 
in  on  the  late  train." 

"  Another  man  to  see  Colonel  Maynard  ?"  asked  the  captain,  with 
sudden  interest.  "Just  come  in,  you  say.  I'm  sure  I've  no  idea. 
What  was  he  like  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,  sir.  At  first  I  thought  you  was  him.  The  driver 
told  me  he  brought  a  gentleman  over  who  asked  some  questions  about 
Colonel  Maynard,  but  he  didn't  get  aboard  at  the  d^pot,  and  he  didn't 
come  down  to  the  hotel, — got  off  somewhere  up  there  on  the  bench,  and 
Jim  didn't  see  him." 

"  Where's  Jim  ?"  said  Armitage.  "  Come  with  me,  watchman.  I 
want  to  interview  him." 

Together  they  walked  over  to  the  barn,  wliich  the  driver  was  just 
locking  up  after  making  everything  secure  for  the  night. 

"  Who  was  it  inquiring  for  Colonel  Maynard?"  asked  Armitage. 

"  I  don't  know,  sir,"  was  the  slow  answer.  "  There  was  a  man  got 
aboard  as  I  was  coming  across  the  common  there  in  the  village  at  the 
station.  There  were  several  passengers  from  the  train,  and  some  bag- 
gage :  so  he  may  have  started  ahead  on  foot  but  afterwards  concluded 
to  ride.  As  soon  as  I  saw  him  get  in  I  reined  up  and  asked  where  he 
was  going ;  he  had  no  baggage  nor  nuthin',  and  my  orders  are  not  to 
haul  anybody  except  people  of  the  hotel :  so  he  came  right  forward 
through  the  'bus  and  took  the  seat  behind  me  and  said  'twas  all  right, 
he  was  going  to  the  hotel ;  and  he  passed  up  a  half-dollar.  I  told  him 
that  I  couldn't  take  the  money, — that  'bus-fares  were  paid  at  the  office, 
— and  drove  ahead.  Then  he  handed  me  a  cigar,  and  pretty  soon  he 
asked  me  if  there  were  many  people,  and  who  had  the  cottages ;  and 
when  I  told  him,  he  asked  which  was  Colonel  Maynard's,  but  he  didn't 
say  he  knew  him,  and  the  next  thing  I  knew  was  when  we  got  here  to 
the  hotel  he  wasn't  in  the  'bus.  He  must  have  stepped  back  through 
all  those  passengers  and  slipped  oif  up  there  on  the  bench.  He  was  in 
it  when  we  passed  the  little  brown  church  up  on  the  hill." 

"What  was  he  hke?" 

"  I  couldn't  see  him  plain.  He  stepped  out  from  behind  a  tree  as 
we  drove  through  tlie  common,  and  came  right  into  the  'bus.  It  was 
dark  in  there,  and  all  I  know  is  he  was  tall  and  had  on  dark  clothes. 
Some  of  the  people  inside  must  have  seen  him  better ;  but  they  are  all 
gone  to  bed,  I  suppose." 

"  I  will  go  over  to  the  hotel  and  inquire,  anyway,"  said  Armitage, 
and  did  so.     The  lights  were  turned  down,  and  no  one  was  there,  but  ho 


818  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

could  hear  voices  chatting  in  quiet  tones  on  the  broad,  sheltered  veranda 
without,  and,  going  thither,  found  three  or  four  men  enjoying  a  quiet 
smoke.  Armitage  was  a  man  of  action.  He  stepped  at  once  to  the 
group : 

"  Pardon  me,  gentlemen,  but  did  any  of  you  come  over  in  the 
omnibus  from  the  station  to-night  ?" 

"  I  did,  sir,"  replied  one  of  the  party,  removing  his  cigar  and 
twitching  off  the  ashes  with  his  little  finger,  then  looking  up  with  the 
air  of  a  man  expectant  of  question. 

"  The  watchman  tells  me  a  man  came  over  who  was  making  in- 
quiries for  Colonel  Maynard.  May  I  ask  if  you  saw  or  heard  of  such 
a  person  ?" 

"  A  gentleman  got  in  soon  after  we  left  the  station,  and  when  the 
driver  hailed  him  he  went  forward  and  took  a  seat  near  him.  They 
had  some  conversation,  but  I  did  not  hear  it.  I  only  know  that  he  got 
out  again  a  little  while  before  we  reached  the  hotel." 

"Could  you  see  him,  and  describe  him?  I  am  a  friend  of  Colo- 
nel Maynard's,  an  officer  of  his  regiment, — which  will  account  for  my 
inquiry." 

"  Well,  yes,  sir.  I  noticed  he  was  very  tall  and  slim,  was  dressed 
in  dark  clothes,  and  wore  a  dark  slouched  hat  well  down  over  his  fore- 
head. He  was  what  I  would  call  a  military-looking  man,  for  I  noticed 
his  walk  as  he  got  off;  but  he  wore  big  s]3ectacles, — blue  or  brown 
glass,  I  should  say, — and  had  a  heavy  beard." 

"  Which  way  did  he  go  when  he  left  the  'bus  ?" 

"  He  walked  northward  along  the  road  at  the  edge  of  the  bluff, 
right  up  towards  the  cottages  on  the  upper  level,"  was  the  answer. 

Armitage  thanked  him  for  his  courtesy,  explained  that  he  had  left 
the  colonel  only  a  short  time  before  and  that  he  was  then  expecting  no 
visitor,  and  if  one  had  come  it  was  perhaps  necessary  that  he  should 
be  hunted  up  and  brought  to  the  hotel.  Then  he  left  the  porch  and 
walked  hurriedly  through  the  park  towards  its  northernmost  limit. 
There  to  his  left  stood  the  broad  roadway  along  which,  nestling  under 
shelter  of  the  bluff,  was  ranged  the  line  of  cottages,  some  two-storied, 
with  balconies  and  verandas,  others  low,  single-storied  affairs  with  a 
broad  hall-way  in  the  middle  of  each  and  rooms  on  both  north  and 
south  sides.  Farthermost  north  on  the  row,  almost  hidden  in  the  trees, 
and  nearest  the  ravine,  stood  Aunt  Grace's  cottage,  where  were  domi- 
ciled the  colonel's  household.  It  was  in  the  big  bay-windowed  north 
room  that  he  and  the  colonel  had  had  their  long  conference  earlier  in 
the  evening.  The  soutli  room,  nearly  opposite,  was  used  as  their  parlor 
and  sitting-room.  Aunt  Grace  and  Miss  Renwick  slept  in  the  little 
front  rooms  north  and  south  of  the  hall-way,  and  the  lights  in  their 
rooms  were  extinguished ;  so,  too,  was  that  in  the  parlor.  All  was 
darkness  on  the  south  and  east.  All  was  silence  and  peace  as  Armi- 
tage approached  ;  but  just  as  he  reached  the  shadow  of  the  stunted  oak- 
tree  growing  in  front  of  the  house  his  ears  were  startled  by  an  agonized 
cry,  a  woman's  half-stifled  shriek.  He  bounded  up  the  steps,  seized 
the  knob  of  the  door  and  threw  his  weight  against  it.  It  was  firmly 
bolted  within.     Loud  he  thundered  on  the  panels.     "  'Tis  I, — Armi- 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  819 

tage !"  he  called.  He  heard  the  quick  patter  of  little  feet ;  the  bolt 
was  slid,  and  he  rushed  in,  almost  stumbling  against  a  trembling,  terror- 
stricken,  yet  welcoming  white-robed  form, — Alice  Renwick,  barefooted, 
with  her  glorious  wealth  of  hair  tumbling  in  dark  luxuriance  all  down 
over  the  dainty  night-dress, — Alice  Renwick,  with  pallid  face  and  wild 
imploring  eyes. 

"  What  is  wrong  ?"  he  asked,  in  haste. 

"  It's  mother, — her  room, — and  it's  locked,  and  she  won't  answer," 
was  the  gasping  reply. 

Armitage  sprang  to  the  rear  of  the  hall,  leaned  one  second  against 
the  opposite  wall,  sent  his  foot  with  mighty  impulse  and  muscled  im- 
pact against  the  opposing  lock,  and  the  door  flew  open  with  a  crash. 
The  next  instant  Alice  was  bending  over  her  senseless  mother,  and  the 
captain  was  giving  a  hand  in  much  bewilderment  to  the  panting  colonel, 
who  was  striving  to  clamber  in  at  the  window.  The  ministrations  of 
Aunt  Grace  and  Alice  were  speedily  sufficient  to  restore  Mrs.  Maynard. 
A  teaspoonful  of  brandy  administered  by  the  colonel's  trembling  hand 
helped  matters  materially.     Then  he  turned  to  Armitage. 

"  Come  outside,"  he  said. 

Once  again  in  the  moonlight  the  two  men  faced  each  other. 

"  Armitage,  can  you  get  a  horse  ?" 

"  Certainly.     What  then  ?" 

"  Go  to  the  station,  get  men,  if  possible,  and  head  this  fellow  off. 
He  was  here  again  to-night,  and  it  was  not  Alice  he  called,  but  my — 
but  Mrs.  Maynard.  I  saw  him ;  I  grappled  with  him  right  here  at 
the  bay-window  where  she  met  him,  and  he  hurled  me  to  grass  as 
though  I'd  been  a  child.  I  want  a  horse  !  I  want  that  man  to-night. 
How  did  he  get  away  from  Sibley  ?" 

"  Do  you  mean — do  you  think  it  was  Jerrold  ?" 

"  Good  God,  yes  !  Who  else  could  it  be  ?  Disguised,  of  course, 
and  bearded ;  but  the  figure,  the  carriage,  were  just  the  same,  and  he 
came  to  this  window, — to  her  window, — and  called,  and  she  answered. 
My  God,  Armitage,  think  of  it !" 

"  Come  with  me,  colonel.  You  are  all  unstrung,"  was  the  captain's 
answer  as  he  led  his  broken  friend  away.  At  the  front  door  he  stopped 
one  moment,  then  ran  up  the  steps  and  into  the  hall,  where  he  tapped 
lightly  at  the  casement. 

"  What  is  it  ?"  was  the  low  response  from  an  invisible  source. 

"Miss  Alice?" 

"Yes." 

"  The  watchman  is  here  now.  I  will  send  him  around  to  the  win- 
dow to  keep  guard  until  our  return.  The  colonel  is  a  little  upset  by 
the  shock,  and  I  want  to  attend  to  him.  We  are  going  to  the  hotel  a 
moment  before  I  bring  him  home.  You  are  not  afraid  to  have  him 
leave  you  ?" 

"  Not  now,  captain." 

"  Is  Mrs.  Maynard  better  ?" 

"  Yes.  She  hardly  seems  to  know  what  has  happened.  Indeed, 
none  of  us  do.     Wliat  was  it?" 

"  A  tramp,  looking  for  something  to  eat,  tried  to  open  the  blinds, 


820  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

and  the  colonel  was  out  here  and  made  a  jump  at  him.  They  had  a 
scuffle  in  the  shrubbery,  and  the  tramp  got  away.  It  frightened  your 
mother :  that's  the  sum  of  it,  I  think." 

"  Is  papa  hurt  ?" 

"No:  a  little  bruised  and  shaken,  and  mad  as  a  hornet.  I  think 
perhaps  I'll  get  him  quieted  down  and  sleepy  in  a  few  minutes,  if  you 
and  Mrs.  Maynard  will  be  content  to  let  him  stay  with  me.  I  can 
talk  almost  any  man  drowsy." 

"  Mamma  seems  to  worry  for  fear  he  is  hurt." 

"Assure  her  solemnly  that  he  hasn't  a  scratch.  He  is  simply 
fighting  mad,  and  I'm  going  to  try  and  find  the  tramp.  Does  Mrs. 
Maynard  remember  how  he  looked  ?" 

"  She  could  not  see  the  face  at  all.  She  heard  some  one  at  the 
shutters,  and  a  voice,  and  supposed  of  course  it  was  papa,  and  threw 
open  the  blind." 

"  Oh,  I  see.  That's  all,  Miss  Alice.  I'll  go  back  to  the  colonel. 
Good-night !"     And  Armitage  went  forth  with  a  lighter  step. 

"  One  sensation  knocked  endwise,  colonel.  I  have  it  on  the  best 
of  authority  that  Mrs.  Maynard  so  fearlessly  went  to  the  window  in 
answer  to  the  voice  and  noise  at  the  shutters  simply  because  she  knew 
you  were  out  there  somewhere  and  she  supposed  it  was  you.  How 
simple  these  mysteries  become  when  a  little  daylight  is  let  in  on  them, 
after  all !  Come,  I'm  going  to  take  you  over  to  my  room  for  a  stiff 
glass  of  grog,  and  then  after  his  trampship  while  you  go  back  to 
bed." 

"Armitage,  you  seem  to  make  very  light  of  this  night's  doings. 
What  is  easier  than  to  connect  it  all  with  the  trouble  at  Sibley  ?" 

"  Nothing  was  ever  more  easily  explained  than  this  thing,  colonel, 
and  all  I  want  now  is  a  chance  to  get  that  tramp.  Then  I'll  go  to 
Sibley ;  and  'pon  my  word  I  believe  that  mystery  can  be  made  as  com- 
monplace a  piece  of  petty  larceny  as  this  was  of  vagrancy.     Come." 

But  when  Armitage  left  the  colonel  at  a  later  hour  and  sought  his 
own  room  for  a  brief  rest  he  was  in  no  such  buoyant  mood.  A  night- 
search  for  a  tramp  in  the  dense  thickets  among  the  bluffs  and  woods  of 
Sablon  could  hardly  be  successful.  It  was  useless  to  make  the  attempt. 
He  slept  but  little  during  the  cool  August  night,  and  early  in  the  morn- 
ing mounted  a  horse  and  trotted  over  to  the  railway-station. 

"  Has  any  train  gone  northward  since  last  night  ?"  he  inquired  at 
the  office. 

"  None  that  stop  here,"  was  the  answer.  "  The  first  train  up  comes 
along  at  11.56." 

"  I  want  to  send  a  despatch  to  Fort  Sibley  and  get  an  answer  with- 
out delay.     Can  you  work  it  for  me  ?" 

The  agent  nodded,  and  pushed  over  a  package  of  blanks.  Armi- 
tage wrote  rapidly  as  follows  : 

"  Captain  Chestee, 

"  Commanding  Fort  Sibley. 
"Is  Jerrold  there?     Tell  him  I  will  arrive  Tuesday.     Answer. 

"  F.  Armitaqe." 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  821 

It  was  along  towards  nine  o'clock  when  the  return  message  came 
clicking  in  on  the  wires,  was  written  out,  and  handed  to  the  tall  soldier 
with  the  tired  blue  eyes. 

He  read,  started,  crushed  the  paper  in  his  hand,  and  turned  from 
the  office.     The  answer  was  significant : 

"  Lieutenant  Jerrold  left  Sibley  yesterday  afternoon.  Not  yet  re- 
turned.    Absent  without  leave  this  morning;. 

"  Chester." 

XI. 

Nature  never  vouchsafed  to  wearied  man  a  lovelier  day  of  rest  than 
the  still  Sunday  on  which  Frank  Armitage  rode  slowly  back  from  the 
station.  The  soft,  mellow  tone  of  the  church-bell,  tolling  the  summons 
for  morning  service,  floated  out  from  the  brown  tower,  and  was  echoed 
back  from  the  rocky  cliff  glistening  in  the  August  sunshine  on  the 
nortliern  bluff.  Groups  of  villagers  hung  about  the  steps  of  the  little 
sanctuary  and  gazed  with  mild  curiosity  at  the  arriving  parties  from  the 
cottages  and  the  hotel.  The  big  red  omnibus  came  up  with  a  load  of 
worshippers,  and  farther  away,  down  the  vista  of  the  road,  Armitage 
could  see  others  on  foot  and  in  carriages,  all  wending  their  way  to  church. 
He  was  in  no  mood  to  meet  them.  The  story  tliat  he  had  been  out 
pursuing  a  tramp  during  the  night  was  pretty  thoroughly  circulated  by 
this  time,  he  felt  assured,  and  every  one  would  connect  his  early  ride  to 
the  station,  in  some  way,  with  the  adventure  that  the  grooms,  iiostlers, 
cooks,  and  kitchen-maids  had  all  been  dilating  upon  ever  since  daybreak. 
He  dreaded  to  meet  the  curious  glances  of  the  women,  and  the  questions 
of  the  few  men  whom  he  had  taken  so  far  into  his  confidence  as  to  ask 
about  the  mysterious  person  who  came  over  in  the  stage  with  them.  He 
reined  up  his  horse,  and  then,  seeing  a  little  pathway  leading  into  the 
thick  wood  to  his  right,  he  turned  in  thither  and  followed  it  some  fifty 
yards  among  bordering  treasures  of  coreopsis  and  golden-rod  and  wild 
luxuriance  of  vine  and  foliage.  Dismounting  in  the  shade,  he  threw 
the  reins  over  his  arm  and  let  his  horse  crop  the  juicy  grasses,  while  he 
seated  himself  on  a  little  stump  and  fell  to  thinking  again.  He  could 
hear  the  reverent  voices  of  one  or  two  visitors  strolling  about  among  the 
peacefiil,  flower-decked  graves  behind  the  little  church  and  only  a  sliort 
stone's-throw  away  through  the  shrubbery.  He  could  hear  the  low, 
solemn  voluntary  of  the  organ,  and  presently  the  glad  outburst  of 
young  voices  in  the  opening  hymn,  but  he  knew  that  belated  ones  would 
still  be  coming  to  church,  and  he  would  not  come  forth  from  his  covert 
until  all  were  out  of  the  way.  Then,  too,  he  was  glad  of  a  little  longer 
time  to  think :  he  did  not  want  to  tell  the  colonel  the  result  of  his 
morning  investigations. 

To  begin  with  :  the  watchman,  the  driver,  and  the  two  men  whom 
he  had  questioned  were  all  of  an  opinion  as  to  the  character  of  the 
stranger :  "  he  was  a  military  man."  The  passengers  described  his 
voice  as  that  of  a  man  of  education  and  social  position ;  the  driver 
and  passengers  declared  his  walk  and  carriage  to  be  that  of  a  soldier : 
he  was  taller,  they  said,  than  the  tall,  stalwart  Saxon  captain,  but  by 


822  FROM   THE  RANKS. 

no  means  so  heavily  built.  As  to  age,  they  could  not  tell :  his  beard 
was  black  and  curly, — no  gray  hairs ;  his  movements  were  quick  and 
elastic ;  but  his  eyes  were  hidden  by  those  colored  glasses,  and  his  fore- 
head by  the  slouch  of  that  broad-brimmed  felt  hat. 

At  the  station,  while  awaiting  the  answer  to  his  despatch,  Armitage 
had  questioned  the  agent  as  to  whether  any  man  of  that  description  had 
arrived  by  the  night  train  from  the  north.  He  had  seen  none,  he  said, 
but  there  was  Larsen  over  at  the  post-of&ce  store,  who  came  down  on 
that  train ;  perhaps  he  could  tell.  Oddly  enough,  Mr.  Larsen  recalled 
just  such  a  party, — tall,  slim,  dark,  dark-bearded,  with  blue  glasses 
and  dark  hat  and  clothes, — but  he  was  bound  for  Lakeville,  the  station 
beyond,  and  he  remained  in  the  car  when  he,  Larsen,  got  oif.  Larsen 
remembered  the  man  well,  because  he  sat  in  the  rear  corner  of  the 
smoker  and  had  nothing  to  say  to  anybody,  but  kept  reading  a  news- 
paper ;  and  the  way  he  came  to  take  note  of  him  was  that  while  stand- 
ing with  two  friends  at  that  end  of  the  car  they  happened  to  be  right 
around  the  man.  The  Saturday  evening  train  from  the  city  is  always 
crowded  with  people  from  the  river  towns  who  have  been  up  to  market 
or  the  matinees,  and  even  the  smoker  was  filled  with  standing  men 
until  they  got  some  thirty  miles  down.  Larsen  wanted  to  light  a  fresh 
cigar,  and  offered  one  to  each  of  his  friends :  then  it  was  found  they 
had  no  matches,  and  one  of  them,  who  had  been  drinking  a  little  and 
felt  jovial,  turned  to  the  dark  stranger  and  asked  him  for  a  light,  and 
the  man,  without  speaking,  handed  out  a  little  silver  match-box.  It 
was  just  then  that  the  conductor  came  along,  and  Larsen  saw  his  ticket. 
It  was  a  "  round  trip"  to  Lakeville  :  he  was  evidently  going  there  for 
a  visit,  and  therefore,  said  Larsen,  he  didn't  get  off  at  Sablon  Station, 
which  was  six  miles  above. 

But  Armitage  knew  better.  It  was  evident  that  he  had  quietly 
slipped  out  on  the  platform  of  the  car  afler  the  regular  passengers  had 
got  out  of  the  way,  and  let  himself  off  into  the  darkness  on  the  side 
opposite  the  station.  Thence  he  had  an  open  and  unimpeded  walk  of 
a  few  hundred  yards  until  he  reached  the  common,  and  then,  when 
overtaken  by  the  hotel  omnibus,  he  could  jump  aboard  and  ride. 
There  was  only  one  road,  only  one  way  over  to  the  hotel,  and  he  could 
not  miss  it.  There  was  no  doubt  now  that,  whoever  he  was,  the  night 
visitor  had  come  down  on  the  evening  train  from  the  city ;  and  his 
return  ticket  would  indicate  that  he  meant  to  go  back  the  way  he  came. 
It  was  half-past  ten  when  that  train  arrived.  It  was  nearly  midnight 
when  the  man  appeared  at  the  cottage  window.  It  was  after  two  when 
Armitage  gave  up  the  search  and  went  to  bed.  It  was  possible  for  the 
man  to  have  walked  to  Lakeville,  six  miles  south,  and  reached  the 
station  there  in  abundant  time  to  take  the  up-train  which  passed  Sablon, 
without  stopping,  a  little  before  daybreak.  If  he  took  that  train,  and 
if  he  was  Jerrold,  he  would  have  been  in  the  city  before  seven,  and 
could  have  been  at  Fort  Sibley  before  or  by  eight  o'clock.  But  Chester's 
despatch  showed  clearly  that  at  8.30 — the  hour  for  signing  the  company 
morning  reports — Mr.  Jerrold  was  not  at  his  post.  Was  he  still  in  the 
neighborhood  and  waiting  for  the  noon  train  ?  If  so,  could  he  be  con- 
fronted on  the  cars  and  accused  of  his  crime  ?     He  looked  at  his  watch  : 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  823 

it  was  nearly  eleven,  and  he  must  push  on  to  the  hotel  before  that  hour, 
report  to  the  colonel,  then  hasten  back  to  the  station.  He  sprang  to  his 
feet,  and  was  just  about  to  mount,  when  a  vision  of  white  and  scarlet 
came  suddenly  into  view.  There,  within  twenty  feet  of  him,  making 
her  dainty  way  through  the  shrubbery  from  the  direction  of  the  church, 
sunshine  and  shadow  alternately  flitting  across  her  lovely  face  and  form, 
Alice  Renwick  stepped  forth  into  the  pathway,  and,  shading  her  eyes 
with  her  hand,  gazed  along  the  leafy  lane  towards  the  road,  as  though 
expectant  of  another's  coming.  Then,  attracted  by  the  beauty  of  the 
golden-rod,  she  bent  and  busied  herself  with  gathering  in  the  yellow 
sprays.  Armitage,  with  one  foot  in  the  stirrup,  stood  stock-still,  half 
in  surprise,  half  stunned  by  a  sudden  and  painful  thought.  Could  it 
be  that  she  was  there  in  hopes  of  meeting — any  one  ? 

He  retook  his  foot  from  the  stirrup,  and,  relaxing  the  rein,  still 
stood  gazing  at  her  over  his  horse's  back.  That  placid  quadruped, 
whose  years  had  been  spent  in  these  pleasant  by-ways  and  were  too 
many  to  warrant  an  exhibition  of  coltish  surprise,  promptly  lowered 
his  head  and  resumed  his  occupation  of  grass-nibbling,  making  a  little 
crunching  noise  which  Miss  Renwick  might  have  heard,  but  apparently 
did  not.     She  was  singing  very  softly  to  herself, — 

"  Daisy,  tell  my  fortune,  pray : 
He  loves  me  uot, — he  loves  me." 

And  still  Armitage  stood  and  gazed,  while  she,  absorbed  in  her 
pleasant  task,  still  pulled  and  plucked  at  the  golden-rod.  In  all  his 
life  no  "  vision  of  fair  women"  had  been  to  him  fair  and  sacred  and 
exquisite  as  this.  Down  to  the  tip  of  her  arched  and  slender  foot, 
peeping  from  beneath  the  broidered  hem  of  her  snowy  skirt,  she  stood 
the  lady  born  and  bred,  and  his  eyes  looked  on  and  worshipped  her, — 
worshipped,  yet  questioned.  Why  came  she  here  ?  Absorbed,  he  re- 
leased his  hold  on  the  rein,  and  Dobbin,  nothing  loath,  reached  with 
his  long,  lean  neck  for  further  herbage,  and  stepped  in  among  the 
trees.  Still  stood  his  negligent  master,  fascinated  in  his  study  of  the 
lovely,  graceful  girl.  Again  she  raised  her  head  and  looked  north- 
ward along  the  winding,  shaded  wood-path.  A  few  yards  away  were 
other  great  clusters  of  the  wild  flowers  she  loved,  more  sun-kissed 
golden-rod,  and,  with  a  little  murmur  of  delight,  gathering  her  dainty 
skirts  in  one  hand,  she  flitted  up  the  pathway  like  an  unconscious 
humming-bird  garnering  the  sweets  from  every  blossom.  A  little 
farther  on  the  pathway  bent  among  the  trees,  and  she  would  be  hidden 
from  his  sight;  but  still  he  stood  and  studied  her  every  movement, 
drank  in  the  soft,  cooing  melody  of  her  voice  as  she  sang,  and  then 
there  came  a  sweet,  solemn  strain  from  the  brown,  sunlit  walls  just 
visible  through  the  trees,  and  reverent  voices  and  the  resonant  chords  of 
the  organ  thrilled  through  the  listening  woods  the  glorious  anthem  of 
the  church  militant. 

At  the  first  notes  she  lifted  up  her  queenly  head  and  stood,  listen- 
ing and  appreciative.  Then  he  saw  her  rounded  throat  swelling  like  a 
bird's,  and  the  rich,  full  tones  of  her  voice  rang  out  through  the 


324  FROM   THE   RANKS. 

welcoming  sunshine,  and  the  fluttering  wrens,  and  proud  red-breasted 
robins,  and  rival  song-queens,  the  brown-winged  thrushes, — even  the 
impudent  shrieking  jays, — seemed  to  hush  and  listen.  Dobbin,  fairly 
astonished,  lifted  up  his  hollow-eyed  head  and  looked  amazedly  at  the 
white  songstress  whose  scarlet  sash  and  neck-ribbons  gleamed  in  such 
vivid  contrast  to  the  foliage  about  her.  A  wondering  little  "  cotton- 
tail" rabbit,  shy  and  wild  as  a  hawk,  came  darting  through  the  bushes 
into  the  sunshiny  patchwork  on  the  path,  and  then,  uptilted  and  with 
quivering  ears  and  nostrils  and  wide-staring  eyes,  stood  paralyzed  with 
helpless  amaze,  ignoring  the  tall  man  in  gz-ay  as  did  the  singer  herself. 
Richer,  rounder,  fuller  grew  the  melody,  as,  abandoning  herself  to  the 
impulse  of  the  sacred  hour,  she  joined  with  all  her  girlish  heart  in  the 
words  of  praise  and  thanksgiving, — in  the  glad  and  triumphant  chorus 
of  the  Te  Deum.  From  beginning  to  end  she  sang,  now  ringing  and 
exultant,  now  soft  and  plaintive,  following  the  solemn  words  of  the 
ritual, — sweet  and  low  and  suppliant  in  the  petition,  "  We  therefore 
pray  Thee  help  Thy  servants  whom  Thou  hast  redeemed  with  Thy 
precious  blood,"  confident  and  exulting  in  the  declaration,  "  Thou 
art  the  King  of  Glory,  O  Christ,"  and  then  rich  with  fearless  trust 
and  faith  in  the  thrilling  climax,  "Let  me  never  be  confounded." 
Armitage  listened  as  one  in  a  trance.  From  the  depth  of  her  heart 
the  girl  had  joined  her  glorious  voice  to  the  chorus  of  praise  and  ado- 
ration, and  now  that  all  was  stilled  once  more  her  head  had  fallen 
forward  on  her  bosom,  her  hands,  laden  with  golden-rod,  were  joined 
together  :  it  seemed  as  though  she  were  lost  in  prayer. 

And  this  was  the  girl,  this  the  pure,  God-worshipping,  God-fearing 
woman,  who  for  one  black  instant  he  had  dared  to  fancy  had  come  here 
expectant  of  a  meeting  with  the  man  whose  aim  had  been  frustrated 
but  the  night  before !  He  could  have  thrown  himself  at  her  feet  and 
implored  her  pardon.  He  did  step  forth,  and  then,  hat  in  hand,  baring 
his  proud  Saxon  head  as  his  forefathers  would  have  uncovered  to  their 
monarch,  he  waited  until  she  lifted  up  her  eyes  and  saw  him,  and 
knew  by  the  look  in  his  frank  face  that  he  had  stood  by,  a  mute  listener 
to  her  unstudied  devotions.  A  lovely  flush  rose  to  her  very  temples, 
and  her  eyes  drooped  their  pallid  lids  until  the  long  lashes  swept  the 
crimson  of  her  cheeks. 

"  Have  you  been  here,  captain  ?  I  never  saw  you,"  was  her  flutter- 
ing question. 

"  I  rode  in  here  on  my  way  back  from  the  station,  not  caring  to 
meet  all  the  good  people  going  to  church.     I  felt  like  an  outcast." 

"  I,  too,  am  a  recreant  to-day.  It  is  the  first  time  I  have  missed 
service  in  a  long  while.  Mamma  felt  too  unstrung  to  come,  and  I 
had  given  up  the  idea,  but  both  she  and  Aunt  Grace  urged  me.  I  was 
too  late  for  the  omnibus,  and  walked  up,  and  then  I  would  not  go  in 
because  service  was  begun,  and  I  wanted  to  be  home  again  before  noon. 
I  cannot  bear  to  be  late  at  church,  or  to  leave  it  until  everything  is  over, 
but  I  can't  be  away  from  mother  so  long  to-day.  Shall  we  walk  that 
way  now  ?" 

"  In  a  minute.  I  must  find  my  horse.  He  is  in  here  somewhere. 
Tell  me  how  the  colonel  is  feeling,  and  Mrs.  Maynard." 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  825 

"  Both  very  nervous  and  worried,  though  I  see  nothing  extraordi- 
nary in  the  adventure.  We  read  of  poor  hungry  tramps  everywhere, 
and  they  rarely  do  harm." 

"  I  wonder  a  little  at  your  venturing  here  in  the  wood-paths,  after 
what  occurred  last  night." 

"  Why,  Captain  Armitage,  no  one  would  harm  me  here,  so  close  to 
the  church.  Indeed,  I  never  thought  of  such  a  thing  until  you  men- 
tioned it.     Did  you  discover  anything  about  the  man  ?" 

"  Nothing  definite ;  but  I  must  be  at  the  station  again  to  meet  the 
up-train,  and  have  to  see  the  colonel  meantime.  Let  me  find  Dobbin, 
or  whatever  they  call  this  venerable  relic  I'm  riding,  and  then  I'll 
escort  you  home." 

But  Dobbin  had  strayed  deeper  into  the  wood.  It  was  some 
minutes  before  the  captain  could  find  and  catch  him.  The  rich  melody 
of  sacred  music  was  again  thrilling  through  the  perfumed  woods,  the 
glad  sunshine  was  pouring  its  warmth  and  blessing  over  all  the  earth, 
glinting  on  bluff  and  brake  and  palisaded  cliff,  the  birds  were  all  sing- 
ing their  rivalling  psaltery,  and  Nature  seemed  pouring  forth  its  homage 
to  the  Creator  and  Preserver  of  all  on  this  His  holy  day,  when  Frank 
Armitage  once  more  reached  the  bowered  lane  where,  fairest,  sweetest 
sight  of  all,  his  lady  stood  waiting  him.  She  turned  to  him  as  she 
heard  the  hoof-beat  on  the  turf,  and  smiled. 

"  Can  we  wait  and  hear  that  hymn  through  ?" 

"  Ay.     Sing  it." 

She  looked  suddenly  in  his  face.  Something  in  the  very  tone  in 
which  he  spoke  startled  her, — something  deeper,  more  fervent,  than  she 
had  ever  heard  before, — and  the  expression  in  the  steady,  deep-blue  eyes 
was  another  revelation.  Alice  Reuwick  had  a  woman's  intuition,  and 
yet  she  had  not  known  this  man  a  day.  The  color  again  mounted  to 
her  temples,  and  her  eyes  fell  after  one  quick  glance. 

"  I  heard  you  joining  in  the  Te  Deum,"  he  urged.  "  Sing  once 
more :  I  love  it.  There,  they  are  just  beginning  again.  Do  you 
know  the  words  ?" 

She  nodded,  then  raised  her  head,  and  her  glad  young  voice  carolled 
through  the  listening  woods  : 

"  Holy,  holy,  holy  I    All 

Heaven's  triumphant  choir  shall  sing, 
When  the  ransomed  nations  fall 
At  the  footstool  of  their  King : 
Then  shall  saints  and  seraphim, 
Hearts  and  voices,  swell  one  hymn 
Round  the  throne  with  full  accord, 
Holy,  holy,  holy  Lord  I" 

There  was  silence  when  the  music  ceased.  She  had  turned  her  face 
towards  the  church,  and,  as  the  melody  died  away  in  one  prolonged, 
triumphant  chord,  she  still  stood  in  reverent  attitude,  as  though  listen- 
ing for  the  words  of  benediction.  He,  too,  was  silent,  but  his  eyes  were 
fixed  on  her.  He  was  thirty-five,  she  not  twenty.  He  had  lived  his 
soldier  life  wifeless,  but,  like  other  soldiers,  his  heart  had  had  its  rubs 
Vol.  XL.— 54 


326  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

and  aches  in  the  days  gone  by.  Years  before  he  had  thought  life  a 
black  void  when  the  girl  he  fancied  while  yet  he  wore  the  Academic 
gray  calmly  told  him  she  preferred  another.  Nor  had  the  intervening 
years  been  devoid  of  their  occasional  yeai-nings  for  a  mate  of  his  own  in 
the  isolation  of  the  frontier  or  the  monotony  of  garrison  life ;  but  flitting 
fancies  had  left  no  trace  upon  his  strong  heart.  The  love  of  his  lite 
only  dawned  upon  him  at  this  late  day  when  he  looked  into  her  glo- 
rious eyes  and  his  whole  soul  went  out  in  passionate  worship  of  the  fair 
girl  whose  presence  made  that  sunlit  lane  a  heaven.  Were  he  to  live  a 
thousand  years,  no  scene  on  earth  could  rival  in  his  eyes  the  love- 
haunted  woodland  pathway  wherein  like  forest  queen  she  stood,  the 
sunshine  and  leafy  shadows  dancing  over  her  graceful  form,  the  golden- 
rod  enhancing  her  dark  and  glowing  beauty,  the  sacred  influences  of  the 
day  throwing  their  mystic  charm  about  her  as  though  angels  guarded 
and  shielded  her  from  harm.  His  life  had  reached  its  climax ;  his  fate 
was  sealed ;  his  lieart  and  soul  were  centred  in  one  sweet  girl, — and  all 
in  one  brief  hour  in  the  woodland  lane  at  Sablon. 

'   She  could  not  fail  to  see  the  deep  emotion  in  his  eyes  as  at  last  she 
turned  to  break  the  silence. 

"  Shall  we  go  ?"  she  said,  simply. 
"  It  is  time ;  but  I  wish  we  could  remain." 
"  You  do  not  go  to  church  very  often  at  Sibley,  do  you  ?" 
"  I  have  not,  heretofore ;   but  you  would  teach  me  to  worship." 
"  You  have  taught  me,"  he  muttered  below  his  breath,  as  he  extended 
a  hand  to  assist  her  down  the  sloping  bank  towards  the  avenue.     She 
looked  up  quickly  once  more,  pleased,  yet  shy,  and  shifted  her  great 
bunch  of  golden-rod  so  that  she  could  lay  her  hand  in  his  and  lean  upon 
its  steady  strength  down  the  incline ;  and  so,  hand  in  hand,  with  old 
Dobbin  ambling  placidly  behind,  they  passed  out  from  the  shaded  path- 
way to  the  glow  and  radiance  of  the  sunlit  road. 

XII. 

"  Colonel  Maynard,  I  admit  everything  you  say  as  to  the  weight  of 
the  evidence,"  said  Frank  Armitage,  twenty  minutes  later,  "  but  it  is 
my  faith — understand  me:  vaj faith,  I  say — that  she  is  utterly  inno- 
cent. As  for  that  damnable  letter,  I  do  not  believe  it  was  ever  written 
to  her.     It  is  some  other  woman." 

"  What  other  is  there,  or  was  there  ?"  was  the  colonel's  simple 
reply.  ^ 

"  That  is  what  I  mean  to  find  out.  Will  you  have  my  baggage 
sent  after  me  to-night?  I  am  going  at  once  to  the  station,  and  thence 
to  Sibley.  I  will  write  you  from  there.  If  the  midnight  visitor  should 
prove  to  have  been  Jerrold,  he  can  be  made  to  explain.  I  have  always 
held  him  to  be  a  conceited  fop,  but  never  either  crack-brained  or  devoid 
of  principle.  There  is  no  time  for  explanation  now.  Good-by ;  and 
keep  a  good  lookout.     That  fellow  may  be  here  again." 

And  in  an  hour  more  Armitage  was  skimming  along  the  winding 
river-side  en  route  to  Sibley.  He  had  searched  the  train  from  pilot  to 
rear  platform,  and  no  man  who  in  the  faintest  degree  resembled  Mr. 
Jerrold  was  on  board.     He  had  wired  to  Chester  that  he  would  reach 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  827 

the  fort  that  evening,  but  would  not  resume  duty  for  a  few  days.  He 
made  another  search  through  the  train  as  they  neared  the  city,  and  still 
there  was  no  one  who  in  stature  or  appearance  corresponded  with  the 
descriptions  given  him  of  the  sinewy  visitor. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  Chester  received  him  as  he  alighted  from  the 
train  at  the  little  station  under  the  cliff.  It  was  a  beautiful  day,  and 
numbers  of  people  were  driving  or  riding  out  to  the  fort,  and  the  high 
bridge  over  the  gorge  was  constantly  resounding  to  the  thunder  of 
hoofs.  Many  others,  too,  had  come  out  on  the  train  ;  for  the  evening 
dress-parade  always  attracted  a  swarm  of  visitors.  A  corporal  of  tlie 
guard,  with  a  couple  of  men,  was  on  hand  to  keep  vigilant  eye  on  the 
arrivals  and  to  persuade  certain  proscribed  parties  to  re-enter  the  cars 
and  go  on,  should  they  attempt  to  revisit  the  post,  and  the  faces  of 
these  were  lighted  up  as  they  saw  their  old  adjutant ;  but  none  others 
of  the  garrison  appeared. 

"  Let  us  wait  a  moment  and  get  these  people  out  of  the  way,"  said 
Armitage.     "  I  want  to  talk  with  you.     Is  Jerrold  back  ?" 

"Yes.  He  came  in  just  ten  minutes  after  I  telegraphed  to  you, 
was  present  at  inspection,  and  if  it  had  not  been  for  your  despatch  this 
morning  I  should  not  have  known  he  had  remained  out  of  quarters 
He  appeared  to  resent  my  having  been  to  his  quarters, — calls  it  spying, 
I  presume." 

"  What  permission  had  he  to  be  away  ?" 

"  I  gave  him  leave  to  visit  town  on  personal  business  yesterday 
afternoon.  He  merely  asked  to  be  away  a  few  hours  to  meet  friends  in 
town,  and  Mr.  Hall  took  tattoo  roll-call  for  him.  As  I  do  not  require 
any  other  officer  to  report  the  time  of  his  return,  I  did  not  exact  it  of 
him  ;  but  of  course  no  man  can  be  away  after  midnight  without  special 
permission,  and  he  was  gone  all  night.  What  is  it,  Armitage  ?  Has 
he  followed  her  down  there?" 

"  Somebody  was  there  last  night  and  capsized  the  colonel  pretty  much 
as  he  did  you  the  night  of  the  ladder  episode,"  said  Armitage,  coolly. 

"  By  heaven  !  and  I  let  him  go  !" 

"  How  do  you  know  'twas  he  ?" 

"  Who  else  could  it  be,  Armitage  ?" 

"  That's  what  the  colonel  asks ;  but  it  isn't  clear  to  me  yet  awhile." 

"  I  wish  it  were  less  clear  to  me,"  said  Chester,  gloomily.  "  The 
worst  is  that  the  story  is  spreading  like  a  pestilence  all  over  the  post. 
The  women  have  got  hold  of  it,  and  there  is  all  manner  of  talk.  I 
shouldn't  be  surprised  if  Mrs.  Hoyt  had  to  be  taken  violently  ill.  She 
has  written  to  invite  Miss  Renwick  to  visit  her,  as  it  is  certain  that 
Colonel  and  Mrs.  Maynard  cannot  come,  and  Hoyt  came  to  me  in  a 
horror  of  amaze  yesterday  to  know  if  there  were  any  truth  in  the  rumor 
that  I  had  caught  a  man  coming  out  of  Mrs.  Maynard's  wixidow  tlie 
other  night.  I  would  tell  him  nothing,  and  he  says  the  ladies  declai'e 
they  won't  go  to  the  german  if  she  does.  Heavens  !  I'm  thankful  you 
are  come.  The  thing  has  been  driving  me  wild  these  last  twelve  hours. 
I  wanted  to  go  away  myself.     Is  she  coming  up  ?" 

"  No,  she  isn't ;  but  let  me  say  this,  Chester  :  that  whenever  she  is 
ready  to  return  I  shall  be  ready  to  escort  her." 


828  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

Chester  looked  at  his  friend  in  amazement,  and  without  speaking. 

"  Yes,  I  see  you  are  astonished,  but  you  may  as  well  understand  the 
situation.  I  have  heard  all  the  colonel  could  tell,  and  have  even  seen 
the  letter,  and  since  she  left  here  a  mysterious  stranger  has  appeared  by 
night  at  Sablon,  at  the  cottage  window,  though  it  happened  to  be  her 
mother's  this  time,  and  I  don't  believe  Alice  Renwick  knows  the  first 
thing  about  it." 

"  Armitage,  are  you  in  love  ?" 

"  Chester,  I  am  in  my  sound  senses.  Now  come  and  show  me  the 
ladder,  and  where  you  found  it,  and  tell  me  the  whole  story  over  again. 
I  think  it  grows  interesting.     One  moment :  has  he  that  picture  yet  ?" 

"  I  suppose  so.  I  don't  know.  In  these  last  few  days  everybody 
is  fighting  shy  of  him.  He  thinks  it  is  my  doing,  and  looks  black 
and  sulky  at  me,  but  is  too  proud  or  too  much  afraid  of  consequences  to 
ask  the  reason  of  the  cold  shoulders  and  averted  looks.  Gray  has  taken 
seven  days'  leave  and  gone  off  with  that  little  girl  of  his  to  place  her 
with  relatives  in  the  East.  He  has  heard  the  stories,  and  it  is  pre- 
sumed that  some  of  the  women  have  told  her.  She  was  down  sick 
here  a  day  or  two." 

"Well,  now  for  the  window  and  the  ladder.  I  want  to  see  the 
outside  through  your  eyes,  and  then  I  will  view  the  interior  with  my 
own.     The  colonel  bids  me  do  so." 

Together  they  slowly  climbed  the  long  stairway  leadmg  up  the  face 
of  the  cliff.     Chester  stopped  for  a  breathing-spell  more  than  once. 

"  You're  all  out  of  condition,  man,"  said  the  younger  captain, 
pausing  impatiently.     "  What  has  undone  you  ?" 

"  This  trouble,  and  nothing  else.  By  gad  !  it  has  unstrung  the 
whole  garrison,  I  believe.  You  never  saw  our  people  fall  off  so  in 
their  shooting.  Of  course  we  expected  Jerrold  to  go  to  pieces,  but 
nobody  else." 

"There  were  others  that  seemed  to  fall  away,  too.  Where  was 
that  cavalry-team  that  was  expected  to  take  the  skirmish  medal  away 
from  us?" 

"  Sound  as  a  dollar,  every  man,  with  the  single  exception  of  their 
big  sergeant.  I  don't  like  to  make  ugly  comparisons  to  a  man  whom 
I  believe  to  be  more  than  half  interested  in  a  woman,  but  it  makes 
me  think  of  the  old  story  about  Medusa.  One  look  at  her  fa.ce  is  too 
much  for  a  man.  That  Sergeant  McLeod  went  to  grass  the  instant  he 
caught  sight  of  her,  and  never  has  picked  up  since." 

"  Consider  me  considerably  more  than  half  interested  in  the  M^oman 
in  this  case,  Chester  :  make  all  the  comparisons  that  you  like,  jirovided 
they  illumine  matters  as  you  are  doing  now,  and  tell  me  more  of  this 
Sergeant  McLeod.  What  do  you  mean  by  his  catching  sight  of  her  and 
going  to  grass  ?" 

"  I  mean  he  fell  flat  on  his  face  the  moment  he  saw  her,  and  hasn't 
been  in  good  form  from  that  moment  to  this.  The  doctor  says  it's 
heart-disease." 

"  That's  wliat  the  colonel  says  troubles  Mrs.  Maynard.  She  was 
senseless  and  almost  pulseless  some  minutes  last  night.  What  manner 
of  man  is  McLeod  ?" 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  829 

"A  tall,  slim,  dark-eyed,  swarthy  fellow, — a  man  with  a  history 
and  a  mystery,  I  judge." 

"  A  man  with  a  history, — a  mystery, — who  is  tall,  slim,  has  dark 
eyes  and  swarthy  complexion,  and  faints  away  at  sight  of  Miss  Ren- 
wick,  might  be  said  to  possess  peculiar  characteristics, — family  traits, 
some  of  them.  Of  course  you've  kept  an  eye  on  McLeod.  Where  is 
he?" 

Chester  stood  leaning  on  the  rail,  breathing  slowly  and  heavily. 
His  eyes  dilated  as  he  gazed  at  Armitage,  who  was  surveying  him 
coolly,  though  the  tone  in  which  he  spoke  betrayed  a  new  interest  and 
a  vivid  one. 

"  I  confess  I  never  thought  of  him  in  connection  with  this  affair," 
said  Chester. 

"  There's  the  one  essential  point  of  difference  between  us,"  was  the 
reply.  "  You  go  in  on  the  supposition  that  there  is  only  one  solution 
to  this  thing,  and  that  a  woman  must  be  dishonored  to  begin  with.  I 
believe  there  can  be  several  solutions,  and  that  there  is  only  one  thing 
in  the  lot  that  is  at  all  impossible." 

"What's  that?" 

"Miss  Renwick's  knowledge  of  that  night's  visitor,  or  of  any 
other  secret  or  sin.  I  mean  to  work  other  theories  first ;  and  the 
McLeod  trail  is  a  good  one  to  start  on.  Where  can  I  get  a  look  at 
him?" 

"  Somewhere  out  in  the  Rockies  by  this  time.  He  was  ordered  back 
to  his  troop  five  days  ago,  and  they  are  out  scouting  at  this  moment, 
unless  I'm  vastly  mistaken.     You  have  seen  the  morning  despatches?" 

"About  the  Indians?  Yes.  Looks  squally  at  the  Spirit  Rock 
reservation.     Do  you  mean  that  McLeod  is  there  ?" 

"  That's  where  his  troop  ought  to  be  by  this  time.  There  is  too 
small  a  force  on  the  trail  now,  and  more  will  have  to  go  if  a  big  out- 
break is  to  be  prevented." 

"  Then  he  has  gone,  and  I  cannot  see  him.  Let  me  look  at  the 
window,  then." 

A  few  steps  brought  them  to  the  terrace,  and  there,  standing  by  the 
west  wall  and  looking  up  at  the  closed  slats  of  the  dormer-window. 
Captain  Chester  retold  the  story  of  his  night-adventure.  Armitage 
listened  attentively,  asking  few  questions.  When  it  was  finished,  the 
latter  turned  and  walked  to  the  rear  door,  which  opened  on  the  terrace. 
It  was  locked. 

"  The  servants  are  having  a  holiday,  I  presume,"  he  said.  "  So 
much  the  better.  Ask  the  quartermaster  for  the  key  of  the  front  door, 
and  I'll  go  in  while  everybody  is  out  looking  at  dress-parade.  There 
goes  first  call  now.     Let  your  orderly  bring  it  to  me  here,  will  you  ?" 

Ten  minutes  later,  with  beating  heart,  he  stood  and  uncovered  his 
handsome  head  and  gazed  silently,  reverently  around  him.  He  was  in 
her  room. 

It  was  dainty  as  her  own  dainty  self.  The  dressing-table,  the 
windows,  the  pretty  little  white  bed,  the  broad,  inviting  lounge,  the 
work-table  and  basket,  the  very  wash-stand,  were  all  trimmed  and 
decked   alike, — white  and  yellow  prevailing.      White   lace  curtains 


830  FROM   THE  RANKS. 

draped  the  window  on  the  west — that  fateful  window — and  the  two 
that  opened  out  on  the  roof  of  the  piazza.  White  lace  curtains  draped 
the  bed,  the  dressing-table,  and  the  wash-stand ;  white  lace,  or  some 
equally  flimsy  and  feminine  material,  hung  about  her  book-shelves  and 
work-table  and  over  the  lounge ;  and  bows  of  bright  yellow  ribbon 
were  everywhere,  yellow  f)in-cushions  and  wall-pockets  hung  about  the 
toilet-table,  soft  yellow  rugs  lay  at  the  bed-  and  lounge-side,  and  a  sun- 
shiny tone  was  given  to  the  whole  apartment  by  the  shades  of  yellow 
silk  that  hung  close  to  the  windows. 

On  the  wall  were  some  choice  etchings  and  a  few  foreign  photographs. 
On  the  book-shelves  were  a  iew  volumes  of  poetry,  and  the  prose  of 
George  Eliot  and  our  own  Hawthorne.  Hanging  on  pegs  in  the  corner 
of  the  simple  army  room,  covered  by  a  curtain,  were  some  heavy  outer- 
garments, — an  ulster,  a  travelling  coat  and  cape  of  English  make,  and 
"One  or  two  dresses  that  were  apparently  too  thick  to  be  used  at  this 
season  of  the  year.  He  drew  aside  the  curtain  one  moment,  took  a 
brief  glance  at  the  garments,  raised  the  hem  of  a  skirt  to  his  lips,  and 
turned  quickly  away.  A  door  led  from  the  room  to  the  one  behind  it, 
— a  spare  bedroom,  evidently,  that  was  lighted  only  from  the  back  of 
the  house  and  had  no  side-window  at  all.  Another  door  led  to  the  hall, 
a  broad,  old-fashioned  aifair,  and  crossing  this  he  stood  in  the  big  front 
room  occupied  by  the  colonel  and  his  wife.  This  was  furnished  almost 
as  luxuriously  (from  an  army  point  of  view)  as  that  of  Miss  Renwick, 
but  not  in  white  and  yellow.  Armitage  smiled  to  see  the  evidences  of 
Mrs.  Maynard's  taste  and  handiwork  on  every  side.  In  the  years  he 
had  been  the  old  soldier's  adjutant  nothing  could  have  exceeded  the 
simplicity  with  which  the  colonel  surrounded  liimself.  Now  it  was 
something  akin  to  Sybaritish  elegance,  thought  the  captain ;  but  all  the 
same  he  made  his  deliberate  survey.  There  was  the  big  dressing-table 
and  bureau  on  which  had  stood  that  ravished  picture, — that  photograph 
of  the  girl  he  loved  which  others  were  able  to  speak  of,  and  one  man  to 
a])propriate  feloniously,  while  yet  he  had  never  seen  it.  His  impulse 
was  to  go  to  Jerrold's  quarters  and  take  him  by  the  throat  and  demand 
it  of  him  ;  but  what  right  had  he  ?  How  knew  he,  even,  that  it  was 
now  there  ?  In  view  of  the  words  that  Chester  had  used  towards  him, 
Jerrold  must  know  of  the  grievous  danger  in  which  he  stood.  That 
photograph  would  prove  most  damaging  evidence  if  discovered.  Very 
probably,  after  yielding  to  his  vanity  and  showing  it  to  Sloat  he  meant 
to  get  it  back.  Very  certainly,  after  hearing  Chester's  words  he  must 
have  determined  to  lose  no  time  in  getting  rid  of  it.  He  was  no  fool, 
if  he  was  a  coxcomb. 

Looking  around  the  half-darkened  room,  Armitage  lingered  long 
over  the  photographs  which  hung  about  the  dressing-table  and  over  the 
mantel, — several  prettily- framed  duplicates  of  those  already  described 
as  appearing  in  the  album.  One  after  another  he  took  them  in  his 
hands,  bore  them  to  the  window,  and  studied  them  attentively :  some 
were  not  replaced  without  a  long,  lingering  kiss.  He  had  not  ventured 
to  disturb  an  item  in  her  room.  He  would  not  touch  the  knob  of  a 
drawer  or  attempt  to  open  anything  she  had  closed,  but  here  in  quarters 
where  his  colonel  could  claim  joint  partnership  he  felt  less  sentiment  or 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  33I 

delicacy.  He  closed  the  hall  door  and  tried  the  lock,  turning  the  knob 
to  and  fro.  Then  he  reopened  the  door  and  swung  it  upon  its  hinges. 
For  a  wonder,  neither  lock  nor  hinges  creaked.  The  door  worked 
smoothly  and  with  little  noise.  Then  he  similarly  tried  the  door  of 
her  room.  It  was  in  equally  good  working  order, — quite  free  from  the 
squeak  and  complaint  with  which  quartermasters'  locks  and  hinges 
are  apt  to  do  their  reluctant  duty.  The  discovery  pleased  him.  It 
was  possible  for  one  to  open  and  close  these  portals  noiselessly,  if  need 
be,  and  without  disturbing  sleepers  in  either  room.  Returning  to  the 
east  chamber,  he  opened  the  shades,  so  as  to  get  more  light,  and  his  eye 
fell  upon  an  old  album  lying  on  a  little  table  that  stood  by  the  bedside. 
There  was  a  night-lamp  upon  the  table,  too, — a  little  affair  that  could 
hold  only  a  thimbleful  of  oil  and  was  intended,  evidently,  to  keep 
merely  a  faint  glow  during  the  night  hours.  Other  volumes — a  Bible, 
some  devotional  books,  like  "  The  Changed  Cross,"  and  a  Hymnal  or 
two — were  also  there ;  but  the  album  stood  most  prominent,  and  Armi- 
tage  curiously  took  it  up  and  opened  it. 

There  were  only  half  a  dozen  photographs  in  the  affair.  It  was 
rather  a  case  than  an  album,  and  was  intended  apparently  for  only  a 
few  family  pictures.  There  was  but  one  that  interested  him,  and  this 
he  examined  intently,  almost  excitedly.  It  represented  a  little  girl  of 
nine  or  ten  years, — Alice,  undoubtedly, — with  her  arms  clasped  about 
the  neck  of  a  magnificent  St.  Bernard  dog  and  looking  up  into  the 
handsome  features  of  a  tall,  slender,  dark-eyed,  black-haired  boy  of 
sixteen  or  thereabouts ;  and  the  two  were  enough  alike  to  be  brother 
and  sister.     Who,  then,  was  this  boy? 

Armitage  took  the  photograph  to  the  window  and  studied  it  care- 
fully. Parade  was  over,  and  the  troops  were  marching  back  to  their 
quarters.  The  band  was  playing  gloriously  as  it  came  tramping  into 
the  quadrangle,  and  the  captain  could  not  but  glance  out  at  his  own  old 
company  as  in  compact  cohnim  of  fours  it  entered  the  grassy  diamond 
and  swung  off  towards  the  barracks.  He  saw  a  knot  of  officers,  too, 
turning  the  corner  by  the  adjutant's  office,  and  for  a  moment  he  lowered 
the  album  to  look.  Mr.  Jerrold  was  not  of  the  number  that  came 
sauntering  up  the  walk,  dropping  away  by  ones  or  twos  as  they 
reached  their  doors  and  unbuckled  their  belts  or  removed  their  helmets 
in  eager  haste  to  get  out  of  the  constraint  of  full  dress.  But  in  an- 
other moment  Jerrold,  too,  appeared,  all  alone,  walking  rapidly  and 
nervously.  Armitage  watched  him,  and  could  not  but  see  how  other 
men  turned  away  or  gave  him  the  coolest  possible  nod  as  he  passed. 
The  tall,  slender  lieutenant  was  handsomer  even  than  when  he  last  saw 
him  ;  and  yet  there  was  gloom  and  worry  on  the  dark  beauty  of  his 
face.  Nearer  and  nearer  he  came,  and  had  passed  the  quarters  of  the 
other  officers  and  was  almost  at  the  door  of  his  own,  when  Armitage 
saw  a  little,  wiry  soldier  in  full  dress  uniform  running  across  the  parade 
as  though  in  pursuit.  He  recognized  Merrick,  one  of  the  scapegraces 
of  his  company,  and  wondered  why  he  should  be  chasing  after  his  tem- 
porary commander.  Just  as  Jerrold  was  turning  under  the  piazza  the 
soldier  seemed  to  make  himself  heard,  and  the  lieutenant,  with  an  angry 
frown  on  his  face,  stopped  and  confronted  him. 


832  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

"  I  told  you  not  to  come  to  me  again,"  he  said,  so  -loud  that  every 
word  was  audible^to  the  captain  standing  by  the  open  window  above. 
"  What  do  you  mean,  sir,  by  following  me  in  this  way  ?" 

The  reply  was  inaudible.  Armitage  could  see  the  little  soldier 
standing  in  the  respectful  position  of  "attention,"  looking  up  and  evi- 
dently pleading. 

"  I  won't  do  it  until  I'm  ready,"  was  again  heard  in  Jerrold's  angry 
tones,  though  this  time  the  lieutenant  glanced  about,  as  though  to  see  if 
others  were  within  earshot.  There  was  no  one,  apparently,  and  he  grew 
more  confident.  "  You've  been  drinking  again  to-day,  Merrick ;  you're 
not  sober  now ;  and  I  won't  give  you  money  to  get  maudlin  and  go  to 
blabbing  secrets  on.  No,  sir  !    Go  back  to  your  quarters,  and  stay  there." 

The  little  soldier  must  indeed  have  been  drinking,  as  the  lieutenant 
declared.  Armitage  saw  that  he  hesitated,  instead  of  obeying  at  once, 
and  that  his  flushed  face  was  angrily  working,  then  that  he  was  argu- 
ing with  his  superior  and  talking  louder.  This  was  contrary  to  all  the 
Captain's  ideas  of  proper  discipline,  even  though  he  was  indignant  at  the 
officer  for  permitting  himself  to  be  placed  in  so  false  and  undignified  a 
position.  Jerrold's  words,  too,  had  acquired  a  wide  significance ;  but 
they  were  feeble  as  comj^ared  with  the  sudden  outburst  that  came  from 
the  soldier's  lips : 

"  By  God,  lieutenant,  you  bribed  me  to  silence  to  cover  your  tracks, 
and  then  you  refuse  to  pay.  If  you  don't  want  me  to  tell  what  I  know, 
the  sooner  you  pay  that  money  the  better." 

This  was  more  than  Armitage  could  stand.  He  went  down-stairs 
three  at  a  jump  and  out  through  the  colonel's  garden  with  quick,  im- 
petuous steps.  Jerrold's  furious  face  turned  ashen  at  the  sight,  and 
Merrick,  with  one  amazed  and  frightened  look  at  his  captain,  faced 
about  and  slunk  silently  away.  To  him  Armitage  paid  no  further 
attention.     It  was  to  the  officer  he  addressed  himself: 

"  Mr.  Jerrold,  I  have  heard  pretty  much  all  this  conversation.  It 
simply  adds  to  the  evil  report  with  which  you  have  managed  to  sur- 
round yourself.     Step  into  your  quarters.     I  must  see  you  alone." 

Jerrold  hesitated.  He  was  thunderstruck  by  the  sudden  appearance 
of  the  captain  whom  he  had  believed  to  be  hundreds  of  miles  away.  He 
connected  his  return  unerringly  with  the  web  of  trouble  which  had  been 
weaving  about  him  of  late.  He  conceived  himself  to  have  been  most 
unjustly  spied  upon  and  suspected,  and  was  full  of  resentment  at  the 
conduct  of  Captain  Chester.  But  Chester  was  an  old  granny,  who 
sometimes  made  blunders  and  had  to  back  down.  It  was  a  different 
thing  when  Armitage  took  hold.  Jerrold  looked  sulkily  into  the  clear, 
stern,  blue  eyes  a  moment,  and  the  first  impulse  of  rebellion  wilted. 
He  gave  one  irresolute  glance  around  the  quadrangle,  then  motioned 
with  his  hand  to  the  open  door.  Something  of  the  old,  jaunty,  Creole 
lightness  of  manner  reasserted  itself. 

"  After  you,  captain,"  he  said. 

XIII. 

Once  within-doors,  it  was  too  dark  for  Armitage  to  see  the  features 
of  his  lieutenant;  and  he  had  his  own  reasons  for  desiring  to  read 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  833 

them.  Mr.  Jerrold,  on  the  other  hand,  seemed  disposed  to  keep  in 
the  shadows  as  much  as  possible.  He  made  no  movement  to  open  the 
shutters  of  the  one  window  which  admitted  light  from  the  front,  and 
walked  back  to  his  bedroom  door,  glanced  in  there  as  though  to  see 
that  there  were  no  occupants,  then  carefully  closed  it  as  he  returned  to 
face  his  captain.  He  took  off  his  helmet  and  placed  it  on  the  centre- 
table,  then,  thrusting  his  thumbs  inside  the  handsome,  gold-broidered 
sword-belt,  stood  in  a  jaunty  attitude  but  with  a  very  uneasy  look  in 
his  eyes  to  hear  what  his  senior  might  have  to  say.  Between  the  two 
men  an  invitation  to  sit  would  have  been  a  supei-fluity.  Neither  had 
ever  remained  long  enough  in  the  other's  quarters,  since  the  exchange 
of  the  first  calls  when  Jerrold  came  to  the  garrison,  to  render  a  chair 
at  all  necessary. 

"  Be  good  enough  to  strike  a  Jight,  Mr.  Jerrold,"  said  Armitage, 
presently,  seeing  that  his  unwilling  host  made  no  effort  on  his  own 
account. 

"  I  proposed  going  out  at  once,  captain,  and  presume  you  cannot 
have  any  very  extended  remarks  to  make," 

"  You  cannot  see  the  writing  I  have  to  call  your  attention  to  witli- 
out  a  light.  I  shall  detain  you  no  longer  than  is  necessary.  Had  you 
an  engagement?" 

"  Nothing  of  great  consequence.     I  presume  it  will  keep." 
"  It  will  have  to.     The  matter  I  have  come  upon  will  admit  no 
further  delay.     Light  your  lamp,  if  you  please." 

And  Jerrold  did  so,  slowly  and  with  much  reluctance.  He  wiped 
his  forehead  vigorously  the  instant  the  flame  began  to  splutter,  but  as 
the  clear,  steady  light  of  the  argand  gradually  spread  over  the  little 
room  Armitage  could  see  the  sweat  again  beading  his  forehead,  and  the 
dark  eyes  were  glancing  nervously  about,  and  the  hands  that  were  so 
firm  and  steady  and  fine  the  year  before  and  held  the  Springfield  in  so 
light  yet  immovable  an  aim  were  twitching  now.  It  was  no  wonder 
Jerrold's  score  had  dropped  some  thirty  per  cent.  His  nerve  had  gone 
to  pieces. 

Armitage  stood  and  watched  him  a  moment.  Then  he  slowly 
spoke : 

"  I  have  no  desire  to  allude  to  the  subject  of  your  conversation 
with  Merrick.  It  was  to  put  an  end  to  such  a  thing — not  to  avail 
myself  of  any  information  it  might  give — that  I  hurried  in.  We  will 
put  that  aside  and  go  at  once  to  the  matter  that  brings  me  back.  You 
are  aware,  of  course,  that  your  conduct  has  compromised  a  woman's 
name,  and  that  the  garrison  is  talking  of  nothing  else." 

Jerrold  grasped  the  back  of  a  chair  with  one  slender  jrown  hand, 
and  looked  furtively  about  as  though  for  some  hope  of  escape.  Some- 
thing like  a  startled  gulp  seemed  to  work  his  throat-muscles  an  instant ; 
then  he  stammered  his  reply  : 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"  You  do  know  what  I  mean.    Captain  Chester  has  already  told  you." 
"  Captain  Chester  came  in  here  and  made  an  unauthorized  inspec- 
tion of  my  quarters  because  he  heard  a  shot  fired  by  a  sentry.     I  was 
out :  I  don't  deny  that.    But  he  proceeded  to  say  all  manner  of  insult- 


834  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

ing  and  unwarrantable  things,  and  tried  to  force  me  to  hand  in  a  resig- 
nation, simply  because  I  was  out  of  quarters  after  taps.  I  could  ac- 
count for  his  doing  something  so  idiotic,  but  Vvn  at  a  loss  to  compre- 
hend your  taking  it  up." 

"  The  most  serious  allegation  ever  made  against  an  officer  of  the 
regiment  is  made  against  you,  the  senior  lieutenant  of  my  company, 
and  the  evidence  furnished  me  by  the  colonel  and  by  Captain  Chester 
is  of  such  a  character  that,  unless  you  can  refute  it  and  clear  her' name, 
you  will  have  a  settlement  with  me  to  start  with,  and  your  dismissal 
from  the  regiment " 

"  Settlement  with  you  ?  What  concern  have  you  in  the  matter  ?" 
interrupted  Jerrold. 

"  Waste  no  words  on  that,  Mr.  Jerrold.  Understand  that  where 
her  name  is  concerned  no  man  on  earth  is  more  interested  than  I.  Now 
answer  me.  You  were  absent  from  your  quarters  for  some  hours  after 
the  doctor's  party.  Somebody  believed  to  have  been  you  was  seen  and 
fired  at  for  refusing  to  halt  at  the  order  of  Captain  Chester  at  3.30  in 
the  morning.  The  ladder  that  usually  hung  at  your  fence  was  found  at 
the  colonel's  while  you  were  out,  and  that  night  a  woman's  name  was 
compromised  beyond  repair  unless  you  can  repair  it.  Unless  you  prove 
beyond  peradventure  where  you  were  both  that  night  and  last  night, — 
prove  beyond  question  that  you  were  not  where  you  are  believed  to 
have  been, — her  name  is  stained  and  yours  blackened  forever.  There 
are  other  things  you  must  fully  explain  ;  but  these  first." 

Jerrold's  face  was  growing  gray  and  sickly.  He  stared  at  the  stern 
eyes  before  him,  and  could  make  no  answer.  His  lips  moved  dryly, 
but  made  no  sound. 

"  Come,  I  want  to  hear  from  you.  Where  were  you,  if  not  with,  or 
seeking,  her  ?     Name  your  place  and  witnesses." 

"By  God,  Captain  Armitage,  the  army  is  no  longer  a  place  for  a 
gentleman,  if  his  every  movement  is  to  be  spied  upon  like  this  !" 

"  The  world  is  no  place  for  a  man  of  your  stamp,  is  perhaps  a  better 
way  of  putting  it,"  said  Armitage,  whose  fingers  were  twitching  con- 
vulsively, and  whose  whole  frame  quivei^d  with  the  effort  he  was 
making  to  restrain  the  rage  and  indignation  that  consumed  him.  He 
could  not — he  would  not — believe  in  her  guilt.  He  must  have  this 
man's  proof,  no  matter  how  it  might  damn  Aim  for  good  and  all,  no 
matter  whom  else  it  might  involve,  so  long  as  it  cleared  her  precious 
name.  He  must  be  patient,  he  must  be  calm  and  resolute ;  but  the 
man's  cold-blooded,  selfish,  criminal  concealment  nearly  maddened 
him.     With  infinite  effort  he  controlled  himself,  and  went  on  : 

"  But  it  is  of  her  I'm  thinking,  not  of  you.  It  is  the  name  you 
have  compromised  and  can  clear,  and  should  clear,  even  at  the  expense 
of  your  own, — in  fact,  Mr.  Jerrold,  must  clear.  Now  will  you  tell 
me  where  you  were  and  how  you  can  prove  it  ?" 

"  I  decline  to  say.  I  won't  be  cross-questioned  by  men  who  have 
no  authority.  Captain  Chester  said  he  would  refer  it  to  the  colonel ; 
and  when  he  asks  I  will  answer, — not  until  then." 

"  I  ask  in  his  name.  I  am  authorized  by  him,  for  he  is  not  well 
enough  to  meet  the  ordeal." 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  835 

*'You  say  so,  and  I  don't  mean  to  dispute  your  word,  Captain 
Armitage,  but  I  have  a  right  to  demand  some  proof.  How  am  I  to 
know  he  authorized  you  ?" 

"  He  himself  gave  me  this  letter,  in  your  handwriting,"  said  Armi- 
tage ;  and,  opening  the  long  envelope,  he  held  forth  the  missive  over 
which  the  poor  old  colonel  had  gone  nearly  wild.  "  He  found  it  the 
morning  they  left, — in  her  garden." 

If  Jerrold's  face  had  been  gray  before,  it  was  simply  ghastly  now. 
He  recoiled  from  the  sight  after  one  fruitless  effort  to  grasp  the  letter, 
then  rallied  with  unlooked-for  spirit : 

"  By  heaven,  Armitage,  suppose  I  did  write  that  letter  ?  What 
does  it  prove  but  what  I  say, — that  somebody  has  been  prying  and 
spying  into  my  affairs  ?  How  came  the  colonel  by  it,  if  not  by  fraud 
or  treachery  ?" 

"  He  picked  it  up  in  the  garden,  I  tell  you, — among  the  rose-bushes, 
where  she — where  Miss  Ren  wick  had  been  but  a  few  moments  before, 
and  where  it  might  appear  that  she  had  dropped  it." 

"She!  That  letter!  What  had  she  to  do  with  it?  What  right 
had  she  to  read  it  ?" 

Armitage  stepped  impulsively  forward.  A  glad,  glorious  light  was 
bursting  upon  his  soul.  He  could  almost  have  seized  Jerrold's  hand  and 
thanked  him ;  but  proofs — proofs  were  what  he  needed.  It  was  not  his 
mind  that  was  to  be  convinced,  it  was  "  society"  that  must  be  satisfied 
of  her  utter  innocence,  that  it  might  be  enabled  to  say,  "  Well,  I  never 
for  a  moment  believed  a  word  of  it."  Link  by  link  the  chain  of  cir- 
cumstantial evidence  must  be  destroyed,  and  this  was  only  one. 

"  You  mean  that  that  letter  was  not  intended  for  Miss  Reuwick  ?" 
he  asked,  with  eagerness  he  strove  hard  to  repress. 

"  It  was  never  meant  for  anybody,"  said  Jerrold,  the  color  coming 
back  to  his  face  and  courage  to  his  eyes.  "'  That  letter  was  never 
sent  by  me  to  any  woman.  It's  my  writing,  of  course,  I  can't  deny 
that ;  but  I  never  even  meant  it  to  go.  If  it  left  that  desk  it  must 
have  been  stolen.  I've  been  hunting  high  and  low  for  it.  I  knew 
that  such  a  thing  lying  around  loose  would  be  the  cause  of  mischief. 
God  !  is  that  what  all  this  fuss  is  about  ?"  And  he  looked  warily, 
yet  with  infinite  anxiety,  into  his  captain's  eyes. 

"  There  is  far  more  to  it,  as  you  well  know,  sir,"  was  the  stern 
answer.  "  For  whom  was  this  written,  if  not  for  her  ?  It  won't  do  to 
half  clear  her  name." 

"  Answer  me  this,  Captain  Armitage.  Do  you  mean  that  that  letter 
has  compromised  Miss  Renwick  ? — that  it  is  she  whose  name  has  been 
involved,  and  that  it  was  of  her  that  Chester  meant  to  speak  ?" 

"  Certainly  it  was, — and  I  too." 

There  was  an  instant's  silence ;  then  Jeriold  began  to  laugh  ner- 
vously : 

"  Oh,  well,  I  fancy  it  isn't  the  first  time  the  revered  and  respected 
captain  has  got  away  off  the  track.  All  the  same  I  do  not  mean  to 
overlook  his  language  to  me ;  and  I  may  say  right  now,  Captain  Armi- 
tage, that  yours,  too,  calls  for  explanation." 

"  You  shall  have  it  in  short  order,  Mr.  Jerrold,  and  the  sooner  you 


836  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

understand  the  situation  the  better.  So  far  as  I  am  concerned,  Miss 
Ken  wick  needed  no  defender ;  but,  thanks  to  your  mysterious  and  un- 
warranted absence  from  quarters  two  very  unlucky  nights,  and  to  other 
circumstances  I  have  no  need  to  name,  and  to  your  pencha7it  for  letter- 
writing  of  a  most  suggestive  character,  it  is  Miss  Renwick  whose  name 
has  been  brought  into  question  here  at  this  post,  and  most  prominently 
so.  In  plain  words,  Mr.  Jerrold,  you  who  brought  this  trouble  upon 
her  by  your  own  misconduct  must  clear  her,  no  matter  at  whose  ex- 
pense, or- 


"  Or  what?" 

"  I  make  no  threats.  I  prefer  that  you  should  make  the  proper 
explanations  from  a  proper  sense  of  what  is  due." 

"  And  suppose  I  say  that  no  man  is  called  upon  to  explain  a  situa- 
tion which  has  been  distorted  and  misrepresented  by  the  evil  imagination 
of  his  fellows?" 

"Then  I  may  have  to  wring  the  truth  out  of  you, — and  wiU;  but, 
for  her  sake,  I  want  as  little  publicity  as  possible.  After  this  display 
on  your  part,  I  am  not  bound  to  show  you  any  consideration  whatever. 
Understand  this,  however :  the  array  of  evidence  that  you  were  felo- 
niously inside  Colonel  Maynard's  quarters  that  night  and  at  his  cottage 
window  last  night  is  of  such  a  character  that  a  court  would  convict  you 
unless  your  alibi  was  conclusive.  Leave  the  service  you  certainly  shall, 
unless  this  whole  thing  is  cleared  up." 

"  I  never  was  anywhere  near  Colonel  Maynard's  either  last  night 
or  the  other  night  I  was  absent." 

"  You  will  have  to  prove  it.  Mere  denials  won't  help  you  in  the 
face  of  such  evidence  as  we  have  that  you  were  there  the  first  time." 

"What  evidence?" 

"  The  photograph  that  was  stolen  from  Mrs.  Maynard  between  two 
and  four  o'clock  that  morning  was  seen  in  your  drawer  by  Major  Sloat 
at  reveille.    You  were  fool  enough  to  show  it  to  him." 

"  Captain  Armitage,  I  shall  be  quite  able  to  show,  when  the  proper 
time  comes,  that  the  photograph  I  showed  Major  Sloat  was  not  stolen  : 
it  was  given  me." 

"  That  is  beyond  belief,  Mr.  Jerrold.  Once  and  for  all,  understand 
this  case.  You  have  compromised  her  good  name  by  the  very  mystery 
of  your  actions.  You  have  it  in  your  power  to  clear  her  by  proving 
where  you  were,  since  you  were  not  near  her, — by  showing  how  you  got 
that  photograph, — by  explaining  how  you  came  to  write  so  strange  a 
letter.  Now  I  say  to  you,  will  you  do  it,  instantly,  or  must  we  wring 
it  from  you  ?" 

A  sneering  smile  was  the  only  answer  for  a  moment ;  then, — 

"  I  shall  take  great  pleasure  in  confounding  my  enemies  should  the 
matter  be  brought  before  a  court, — I'm  sure  if  the  colonel  can  stand 
that  sort  of  thing  I  can, — but  as  for  defending  myself  or  anybody  else 
from  utterly  unjust  and  proofless  suspicions,  it's  quite  another  thing." 

"  Good  God,  Jerrold  !  do  you  realize  what  a  position  you  are  taking  ? 
Do  you " 

"  Oh,  not  at  all,  captain,"  was  the  airy  reply,  "  not  at  all.  It  is 
not  a  position  I  have  taken :  it  is  one  into  which  you  misguided  con- 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  837 

spirators  have  forced  me.  I  certainly  am  not  required  to  compromise 
anybody  else  in  order  to  relieve  a  suspicion  which  you,  not  I,  have 
created.  How  do  you  know  that  there  may  not  be  some  other  woman 
whose  name  I  propose  to  guard  ?  You  have  been  really  very  flattering 
in  your  theories  so  far." 

Armitage  could  bear  no  more.  The  airy  conceit  and  insolence  of 
the  man  overcame  all  self-restraint  and  resolution.  With  one  bound 
he  was  at  his  throat,  his  strong  white  hands  grasping  him  in  a  sudden, 
vice-like  grip,  then  hurling  him  with  stunning,  thundering  force  to 
the  floor.  Down,  headlong,  went  the  tall  lieutenant,  his  sword  clat- 
tering by  his  side,  his  slim  brown  hands  clutching  wildly  at  anything 
that  might  bear  him  up,  and  dragging  with  him  in  his  catastrophe  a 
rack  of  hunting-pouches,  antlers,  and  one  heavy  double-barrelled  shot- 
gun. All  came  tumbling  down  about  the  struggling  form,  aud  Armi- 
tage, glaring  down  at  him  with  clinching  fists  and  rasping  teeth,  had 
only  time  to  utter  one  deep-drawn  malediction  when  he  noted  that 
the  struggles  ceased  and  Jerrold  lay  quite  still.  Then  the  blood  began 
to  ooze  from  a  jagged  cut  near  the  temple,  and  it  was  evident  that  the 
hammer  of  the  gun  had  struck  him. 

Another  moment,  and  the  door  opened,  and  with  anxious  face  Ches- 
ter strode  into  the  I'oom.  "  You  haven't  killed  him,  Armitage  ?  Is  it 
as  bad  as  that  ?" 

"  Pick  him  up,  and  we'll  get  him  on  the  bed.  He's  only  stunned. 
I  didn't  even  hit  him.  Those  things  tumbled  afterwards,"  said  Armi- 
tage, as  between  them  they  raised  the  dead  weight  of  the  slender  Adonis 
in  their  arms  and  bore  him  to  tlie  bedroom.  Here  they  bathed  the 
wound  with  cold  water  and  removed  the  uniform  coat,  and  presently 
the  lieutenant  began  to  revive  and  look  about  him. 

"  Who  struck  me  ?"  he  faintly  asked. 

"  Your  shot-gun  fell  on  your  head,  but  I  threw  you  down,  Jerrold. 
I'm  sorry  I  touched  you,  but  you're  lucky  it  was  no  worse.  This 
thing  is  going  to  raise  a  big  bump  here.     Shall  I  send  the  doctor?" 

"  No.  I'll  come  round  presently.  We'll  see  about  this  thing  after- 
wards." 

"  Is  there  any  friend  you  want  to  see  ?  Shall  I  send  word  to  any- 
body?" asked  Chester. 

"  No.  Don't  let  anybody  come.  Tell  my  striker  to  bring  my 
breakfast ;  but  I  want  nothing  to-night  but  to  be  let  alone." 

"  At  least  you  will  let  me  help  you  undress  and  get  to  bed  ?"  said 
Chester. 

"  No.  I  wish  you'd  go, — both  of  you.  I  want  quiet, — peace, — 
and  there's  none  of  it  with  either  of  you." 

And  so  they  left  him.  Later  Captain  Chester  had  gone  to  the 
quarters,  and,  after  much  parleying  from  without,  had  gained  admission. 
Jerrold's  head  was  bound  in  a  bandage  wet  with  arnica  and  water.  He 
had  been  solacing  himself  with  a  pipe  and  a  whiskey  toddy,  and  was  in 
a  not  unnaturally  ugly  mood. 

"  You  may  consider  yourself  excused  from  duty  until  your  face  is 
well  again,  by  which  time  this  matter  will  be  decided.  I  admonish 
you  to  remain  "K^ere  and  not  leave  the  post  until  it  is." 


838  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

"  You  can  prefer  charges  and  see  what  you'll  make  of  it,"  was  the 
vehement  reply.  "  Devil  a  bit  will  I  help  you  out  of  the  thing,  after 
this  night's  work." 

XIV. 

Tuesday,  and  the  day  of  the  long- projected  german  had  come ;  and 
if  ever  a  lot  of  garrison-people  were  wishing  themselves  well  out  of  a 
flurry  it  was  the  social  circle  at  Sibley.  Invitations  had  been  sent  to 
all  the  prominent  people  in  town  who  had  shown  any  interest  in  the 
garrison  since  the  regiment's  arrival ;  beautiful  favors  had  been  pro- 
cured ;  an  elaborate  supper  had  been  prepared, — the  ladies  contributing 
their  efforts  to  the  salads  and  other  solids,  the  officers  wisely  confining 
their  donations  to  the  wines.  It  was  rumored  that  new  and  original 
figures  were  to  be  danced,  and  much  had  been  said  about  this  feature 
in  town,  and  much  speculation  had  been  indulged  in ;  but  the  Beau- 
bien  residence  had  been  closed  until  the  previous  day,  Nina  was  away 
with  her  mother  and  beyond  reach  of  question,  and  Mr.  Jerrold  had 
not  shown  his  face  in  town  since  her  departure.  Nor  was  he  accessible 
when  visitors  inquired  at  the  fort.  They  had  never  known  such  mys- 
terious army  people  in  their  lives.  What  on  earth  could  induce  them 
to  be  so  close-mouthed  about  a  mere  german  ?  one  might  suppose  they 
had  something  worth  concealing ;  and  presently  it  became  noised  abroad 
that  there  was  genuine  cause  for  perplexity,  and  possibly  worse. 

To  begin  with,  every  one  at  Sibley  now  knew  something  of  the 
night  adventure  at  the  colonel's,  and,  as  no  one  could  give  the  true 
statement  of  the  case,  the  stories  in  circulation  were  gorgeous  embellish- 
ments of  the  actual  facts.  It  would  be  useless,  even  if  advisable,  to 
attempt  to  reproduce  these  wild  theories,  but  never  was  army  garrison 
so  tumultuously  stirred  by  the  whirlwind  of  rumor.  It  Avas  no  longer 
denied  for  an  instant  that  the  absence  of  the  colonel  and  his  household 
M^as  the  direct  result  of  that  night's  discoveries ;  and  when,  to  Mrs. 
Iloyt's  inexpressible  relief,  there  came  a  prettily-worded  note  from 
Alice  on  Monday  evening  informing  her  that  neither  the  colonel  nor 
her  mother  felt  well  enough  to  return  to  Sibley  for  the  german,  and  that 
she  herself  preferred  not  to  leave  her  mother  at  a  time  when  she  needed 
her  care,  Mrs.  Hoyt  and  her  intimates,  with  whom  she  instantly  con- 
ferred, decided  that  there  could  be  no  doubt  whatever  that  the  colonel 
knew  of  the  affair,  had  forbidden  their  return,  and  was  only  waiting 
for  further  evidence  to  decide  what  was  to  be  done  with  his  erring  step- 
daughter. Women  talked  with  bated  breath  of  the  latest  stories  in 
circulation,  of  Chester's  moody  silence  and  preoccupation,  of  Jerrold's 
ostracism,  and  of  Frank  Armitage's  sudden  return. 

On  Monday  morning  the  captain  had  quietly  appeared  in  uniform 
at  the  office,  and  it  was  known  that  he  had  relinquished  the  remainder 
of  lijs  leave  of  absence  and  resumed  command  of  his  company.  There 
were  men  in  the  garrison  who  well  knew  that  it  was  because  of  the 
mystery  overhanging  the  colonel's  household  that  Armitage  had  so 
suddenly  returned.  They  asked  no  questions  and  sought  no  explana- 
tion. All  men  marked,  however,  that  Jerrold  was  not  at  the  office 
on  Monday,  and  many  curiously  looked  at  the  morning  report  in  tlie 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  339 

adjutant's  office.  No,  he  was  not  in  arrest ;  neither  was  he  on  sick- 
report.  He  was  marked  present  for  duty,  and  yet  he  was  not  at  the 
customary  assembly  of  all  the  commissioned  officers  at  head-quarters. 
More  mystery,  and  most  exasperating,  too,  it  was  known  that  Armitage 
and  Jerrold  had  held  a  brief  talk  in  the  latter's  quarters  soon  after 
Sunday's  evening  parade,  and  that  the  former  had  been  reinforced  for  a 
time  by  Captain  Chester,  with  whom  he  was  afterwards  closeted.  Offi- 
cers who  heard  that  he  had  suddenly  returned  and  was  at  Chester's 
went  speedily  to  the  latter's  quarters, — at  least  two  or  three  did, — and 
were  met  by  a  servant  at  the  door,  who  said  that  the  gentlemen  had 
just  gone  out  the  back  way.  And,  sure  enough,  neither  Chester  nor 
Armitage  came  home  until  long  after  taps ;  and  then  the  colonel's 
cook  told  several  people  that  the  two  gentlemen  had  spent  over  an  hour 
up-stairs  in  the  colonel's  and  Miss  Alice's  room  and  "  was  fooliu' 
around  the  house  till  near  ten  o'clock," 

Another  thing  that  added  to  the  flame  of  speculation  and  curiosity 
was  this.  Two  of  the  ladies,  returning  from  a  moonlit  stroll  on  the  ter- 
race just  after  tattoo,  came  through  the  narrow  passage-way  on  the  west 
side  of  the  colonel's  quarters,  and  there,  at  the  foot  of  the  little  flight 
of  steps  leading  up  to  the  parade,  they  came  suddenly  upon  Captain 
Chester,  who  was  evidently  only  moderately  pleased  to  see  them  and 
nervously  anxious  to  expedite  their  onward  movement.  With  the  per- 
versity of  both  sexes,  however,  they  stopped  to  chat  and  inquire  what 
he  was  doing  there,  and  in  the  midst  of  it  all  a  faint  light  gleamed  on 
the  opposite  wall  and  the  reflection  of  the  curtains  in  Alice  Ren  wick's 
window  was  distinctly  visible.  Then  a  sturdy  masculine  sliadow  ap- 
peared, and  there  was  a  rustling  above,  and  then,  with  exasperating, 
mysterious,  and  epigrammatic  terseness,  a  deep  voice  propounded  the 
utterly  senseless  question, — 

"How's  that?" 

To  which,  in  great  embarrassment,  Chester  replied, — 

"  Hold  on  a  minute.     I'm  talking  with  some  interested  spectators." 

Whereat  the  shadow  of  the  big  man  shot  out  of  sight,  and  the 
ladies  found  that  it  was  useless  to  remain, — there  would  be  no  further 
developments  so  long  as  they  did ;  and  so  they  came  away,  with  many 
a  lingering  backward  look.  "  But  the  idea  of  asking  such  a  fool  ques- 
tion as  '  How's  that  ?'  Why  couldn't  the  man  say  what  he  meant  ?"  It 
was  gathered,  however,  that  Armitage  and  Chester  had  been  making 
some  experiments  that  bore  in  some  measure  on  the  mystery.  And  all 
this  time  Mr.  Jerrold  was  in  his  quarters,  only  a  stone's-throw  away. 
How  interested  he  must  have  been  ! 

But,  while  the  garrison  was  relieved  at  knowing  that  Alice  Renwick 
would  not  be  on  hand  for  the  german  and  it  was  being  fondly  hoped 
she  might  never  return  to  the  post,  there  was  still  another  grievous 
embarrassment.     How  about  Mr.  Jerrold  ? 

He  had  been  asked  to  lead  when  the  german  was  first  projected, 
and  had  accepted.  That  was  fully  two  weeks  before;  and  now — no 
one  knew  just  what  ought  to  be  done.  It  was  known  that  Nina 
Beaubien  had  returned  on  the  previous  day  from  a  brief  visit  to  the 
upper  lakes,  and  that  she  had  a  costume  of  ravishing  beauty  in  which 


840  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

to  carry  desolation  to  the  hearts  of  the  garrison  belles  in  leading  that 
german  with  Mr.  Jerrold.  Old  Madame  Beaubien  had  been  reluctant, 
said  her  city  friends,  to  return  at  all.  She  heartily  disapproved  of  Mr. 
Jerrold,  and  was  bitterly  set  against  Nina's  growing  infatuation  for  hira. 
But  Nina  was  headstrong  and  determined  :  moreover,  she  was  far  more 
than  a  match  for  her  mother's  vigilance,  and  it  was  known  at  Sibley 
that  two  or  three  times  the  girl  had  been  out  at  the  fort  with  the  Suttons 
and  other  friends  when  the  old  lady  believed  her  in  quarters  totally 
different.  Cub  Sutton  had  confided  to  Captain  Wilton  that  Madame 
Beaubien  was  in  total  ignorance  of  the  fact  that  there  was  to  be  a  party 
at  the  doctor's  the  night  he  had  driven  out  with  Nina  and  his  sister, 
and  that  Nina  had  "  pulled  the  wool  over  her  mother's  eyes"  and  made 
her  believe  she  was  going  to  spend  the  evening  with  friends  in  town, 
naming  a  family  with  whom  the  Beaubiens  were  intimate.  A  long 
drive  always  made  the  old  lady  sleepy,  and,  as  she  had  accompanied 
Nina  to  the  fort  that  afternoon,  she  went  early  to  bed,  having  secured  her 
wild  birdling,  as  she  supposed,  from  possibility  of  further  meetings  with 
Jerrold.  For  nearly  a  week,  said  Cub,  Madame  Beaubien  had  dogged 
Nina  so  that  she  could  not  get  a  moment  with  the  man  with  whom 
she  was  evidently  so  smitten,  and  the  girl  was  almost  at  her  wits'  end 
with  seeing  tlie  depth  of  his  flirtation  with  Alice  Renwick  and  the 
knowledge  that  on  the  morrow  her  mother  would  spirit  her  off  to  the 
cool  breezes  and  blue  waves  of  the  great  lake.  Cub  said  she  so  worked 
on  Fanny's  feelings  that  they  put  up  the  scheme  together  and  made 
him  bring  them  out.  Gad  !  if  old  Maman  only  found  it  out  there'd 
be  no  more  germans  for  Nina.  She'd  ship  her  off  to  the  good  Sisters 
at  Creve-Cceur  and  slap  her  into  a  convent  and  leave  all  her  money  to 
the  Church. 

And  yet,  said  city  society,  old  Maman  idolized  her  beautiful  daugh- 
ter and  could  deny  her  no  luxury  or  indulgence.  She  dressed  her 
superbly,  though  with  a  somewhat  barbaric  taste  where  Nina's  own 
good  sense  and  Eastern  teaching  did  not  interfere.  What  she  feared 
was  that  the  girl  would  fall  in  love  with  some  adventurer,  or — what 
was  quite  as  bad — some  army  man  who  would  carry  her  darling  away 
to  Arizona  or  other  inaccessible  spot.  Her  plan  was  that  Nina  should 
marry  here — at  home — some  one  of  the  staid  young  merchant  princes 
rising  into  prominence  in  the  Western  metropolis,  and  from  the  very 
outset  Nina  had  shown  a  singular  infatuation  for  the  buttons  and  straps 
and  music  and  heaven-knows-what-all  out  at  the  fort.  She  gloried  in 
seeing  her  daughter  prominent  in  all  scenes  of  social  life.  She  rejoiced 
in  her  triumphs,  and  took  infinite  pains  with  all  preparations.  She 
would  have  set  her  foot  against  Nina's  simply  dancing  the  german  at 
the  fort  with  Jerrold  as  a  partner,  but  she  could  not  resist  it  that  the 
papers  should  announce  on  Sunday  morning  that  "  the  event  of  the 
season  at  Fort  Sibley  was  the  german  given  last  Tuesday  night  by 
the  ladies  of  the  garrison  and  led  by  the  lovely  Miss  Beaubien"  with 
Lieutenant  or  Captain  Anybody.  There  were  a  dozen  bright,  graceful, 
winning  women  among  the  dames  and  damsels  at  the  fort,  and  Alice 
Ren  wick  was  a  famous  beauty  by  this  time.  It  was  raoi'e  than  Maman 
Beaubien  could  withstand,  that  her  Nina  should  "  lead"  all  these,  and 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  g41 

SO  her  consent  was  won.  Back  they  came  from  Chequamegon,  and  the 
stately  home  on  Summit  Avenue  reopened  to  receive  them.  It  was 
Monday  noon  when  they  returned,  and  by  three  o'clock  Fanny  Sutton 
had  told  Nina  Beaubien  what  she  knew  of  the  wonderful  rumors 
that  were  floating  in  from  Sibley.  She  was  more  than  half  disposed 
to  be  in  love  with  Jerrold  herself.  She  expected  a  proper  amount 
of  womanly  horror,  incredulity,  and  indignation ;  but  she  was  totally 
unprepared  for  the  outburst  that  followed.  Nina  was  transformed  into 
a  tragedy  queen  on  the  instant,  and  poor,  simple-hearted,  foolish  Fanny 
Sutton  was  almost  scared  out  of  her  small  wits  by  the  fire  of  denuncia- 
tion and  fury  with  which  her  story  was  greeted.  She  came  home  with 
white,  frightened  face  and  hunted  up  Cub  and  told  him  that  she  had 
been  telling  Nina  some  of  the  queer  things  the  ladies  had  been  saying 
about  Mr.  Jerrold,  and  Nina  almost  tore  her  to  piecqs,  and  could  he 
go  right  out  to  the  fort  to  see  Mr.  Jerrold  ?  Nina  wanted  to  send  a 
note  at  once ;  and  if  he  couldn't  go  she  had  made  her  promise  that  she 
would  get  somebody  to  go  instantly  and  to  come  back  and  let  her  know 
before  four  o'clock.  Cub  was  always  glad  of  an  excuse  to  go  out  to 
the  fort,  but  a  coldness  had  sprung  up  between  Iiim  and  Jerrold.  He 
had  heard  the  ugly  rumors  in  that  mysterious  way  in  which  all  such 
things  are  heard,  and,  while  his  shallow  pate  could  not  quite  conceive 
of  such  a  monstrous  scandal  and  he  did  not  believe  half  he  heard,  he 
sagely  felt  that  in  the  presence  of  so  much  smoke  there  was  surely 
some  fire,  and  avoided  the  man  from  whom  he  had  been  inseparable. 
Of  course  he  had  not  spoken  to  him  on  the  subject,  and,  singularly 
enough,  this  was  the  case  with  all  the  officers  at  the  post  except  Armi- 
tage  and  the  commander.  It  was  understood  that  the  matter  was  in 
Chester's  hands,  to  do  with  as  was  deemed  best.  It  was  believed  that 
his  resignation  had  been  tendered  ;  and  all  these  forty-eight  hours  since 
the  story  might  be  said  to  be  fairly  before  the  public,  Jerrold  had  been 
left  much  to  himself,  and  was  presumably  in  the  depths  of  dismay. 

One  or  two  men,  urged  by  their  wives,  who  thought  it  was  really 
time  something  were  done  to  let  him  understand  he  ought  not  to  lead 
the  german,  had  gone  to  see  him  and  been  refused  admission.  Asked 
from  within  what  they  wanted,  the  reply  was  somewhat  difficult  to 
frame,  and  in  both  cases  resolved  itself  into  "  Oh,  about  the  german ;" 
to  which  Jerrold's  voice  was  heard  to  say,  "  The  german's  all  right. 
I'll  lead  if  I'm  well  enough  and  am  not  bothered  to  death  meantime ; 
but  I've  got  some  private  matters  to  attend  to,  and  am  not  seeing  any- 
body to-day."  And  with  this  answer  they  were  fain  to  be  content. 
It  had  been  settled,  however,  that  the  officers  were  to  tell  Captain 
Chester  at  ten  o'clock  that  in  their  opinion  Mr.  Jerrold  ought  not  to  be 
permitted  to  attend  so  long  as  this  mysterious  charge  hung  over  him ; 
and  Mr.  Rollins  had  been  notified  that  he  must  be  ready  to  lead. 

Poor  Rollins !  He  was  in  sore  perplexity.  He  wanted  nothing 
better  than  to  dance  with  Nina  Beaubien.  He  wondered  if  she  would 
lead  with  him,  or  would  even  come  at  all  when  she  learned  that  Jerrold 
would  be  unable  to  attend.  "  Sickness"  was  to  be  the  ostensible  cause, 
and  in  the  youth  and  innocence  of  his  heart  Rollins  never  supposed 
that  Nina  would  hear  of  all  the  other  assignable  reasons.  He  meant 
Vol.  XL.— 55 


842  FROM  TEE  RANKS. 

to  ride  in  and  call  upon  her  Monday  evening ;  but,  as  ill  luck  would 
have  it,  old  SI  oat,  who  was  officer  of  the  day,  stepped  on  a  round 
pebble  as  he  was  going  down  the  long  flight  to  the  railway-station,  and 
sprained  his  ankle.  Just  at  five  o'clock  Rollins  got  orders  to  relieve 
him,  and  was  returning  from  the  guard-house,  when  who  should  come 
driving  in  but  Cub  Sutton,  and  Cub  reined  up  and  asked  where  he 
would  be  apt  to  find  Mr.  Jerrold. 

"  He  isn't  well,  and  has  been  denying  himself  to  all  callers  to-day," 
said  Rollins,  shortly. 

"  Well,  I've  got  to  see  him,  or  at  least  get  a  note  to  him,"  said 
Cub.     "  It's  from  Miss  Beaubien,  and  requires  an  answer." 

"  You  know  the  way  to  his  quarters,  I  presume,"  said  Rollins, 
coldly :  "  you  have  been  there  frequently.  I  will  have  a  man  hold 
your  horse,  or  you  can  tie  him  there  at  the  rail,  just  as  you  please." 

"Thanks.  I'll  go  over,  I  believe."  And  go  he  did,  and  poor 
Rollins  was  unable  to  resist  the  temptation  of  watching  whether  the 
magic  name  of  Nina  would  open  the  door.  It  did  not ;  but  he  saw 
Cub  hand  in  the  little  note  through  the  shutters,  and  ere  long  there 
came  another  from  within.  This  Cub  stowed  in  his  waistcoat-pocket 
and  drove  ofi^  with,  and  Rollins  walked  jealously  homeward.  But 
that  evening  he  went  through  a  worse  experience,  and  it  was  the  last 
blow  to  his  budding  passion  for  sparkling-eyed  Nina. 

It  was  nearly  tattoo,  and  a  dark  night,  when  Chester  suddenly 
came  in : 

"  Rollins,  you  remember  my  telling  you  I  was  sure  some  of  the  men 
had  been  getting  liquor  in  from  the  shore  down  below  the  station  and 
'  running  it'  that  way  ?  I  believe  we  can  nab  the  smuggler  this  even- 
ing. There's  a  boat  down  there  now.  The  corporal  has  just  told 
me." 

Smuggling  liquor  was  one  of  Chester's  horrors.  He  surrounded  the 
post  with  a  cordon  of  sentries  who  had  no  higher  duty,  apparently,  than 
that  of  preventing  the  entrance  of  alcohol  in  any  form.  He  had  run  a 
"  red-cross"  crusade  against  the  post-trader's  store  in  the  matter  of  light 
wines  and  small  beer,  claiming  that  only  adulterated  stuff  was  sold  to 
the  men,  and  forbidding  the  sale  of  anything  stronger  than  "  pop"  over 
the  trader's  counter.  Then,  when  it  became  apparent  that  liquor  was 
being  brought  on  the  reservation,  he  made  vigorous  efforts  to  break  up 
the  practice.  Colonel  Maynard  rather  poohpoohed  the  whole  business. 
It  was  his  theory  that  a  man  who  was  determined  to  have  a  drink  might 
better  be  allowed  to  take  an  honest  one,  coram  publico,  than  a  smug- 
gled and  deleterious  article ;  but  he  succumbed  to  the  rule  that  only 
"  light  wines  and  beer"  should  be  sold  at  the  store,  and  was  lenient  to 
the  poor  devils  who  overloaded  and  deranged  their  stomachs  in  conse- 
quence. But  Chester  no  sooner  found  himself  in  command  than  he 
launched  into  the  crusade  with  redoubled  energy,  and  spent  hours  of 
the  day  and  night  trying  to  capture  invaders  of  the  reservation  with  a 
bottle  in  their  pockets.  The  bridge  was  guarded,  so  was  the  crossing 
of  the  Cloudwater  to  the  south,  and  so  were  the  two  roads  entering  from 
the  north  and  west;  and  yet  there  Avas  liquor  coming  in,  and,  as  though 
"  to  give  Chester  a  benefit,"  some  of  the  men  in  barracks  had  a  royal 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  843 

old  spree  on  Saturday  night,  and  the  captain  was  sorer-headed  than  any 
of  the  participants  in  consequence.  In  some  way  lie  heard  tliat  a  row- 
boat  came  up  at  night  and  landed  supplies  of  contraband  down  by  the 
river-side  out  of  sight  and  hearing  of  the  sentry  at  the  railway-station, 
and  it  was  thither  he  hurriedly  led  Rollins  this  Monday  evening. 

They  turned  across  the  railway  on  reaching  the  bottom  of  the  long 
stairs,  and  scrambled  down  the  rocky  embankment  on  the  other  side, 
Rollins  following  in  reluctant  silence  and  holding  his  sword  so  that  it 
would  not  rattle,  but  he  had  no  faith  iu  the  theory  of  smugglers.  He 
felt  in  some  vague  and  unsatisfactory  way  a  sense  of  discomfort  and 
anxiety  over  his  captain's  late  proceedings,  and  this  stealthy  descent 
seemed  fraught  with  ill  omen. 

Once  down  in  the  flats,  their  footsteps  made  no  noise  in  the  yielding 
sand,  and  all  was  silence  save  for  the  plash  of  the  waters  along  the  shores. 
Far  down  the  river  were  the  reflections  of  one  or  two  twinkling  lights, 
and  close  under  the  bank  in  the  slack-water  a  few  stars  were  peeping 
at  their  own  images,  but  no  boat  was  there,  and  the  captain  led  still  far- 
ther to  a  little  copse  of  willow,  and  there,  in  the  shadows,  sure  enough, 
was  a  row-boat,  with  a  little  lantern  dimly  burning,  half  hidden  in  the 
stern. 

Not  only  that,  but  as  they  halted  at  the  edge  of  the  willows  the 
captain  put  forth  a  warning  hand  and  cautioned  silence.  No  need. 
Rollins's  straining  eyes  were  already  fixed  on  two  figures  that  were 
standing  in  the  shadows  not  ten  feet  away, — one  that  of  a  tall,  slender 
man,  the  other  a  young  girl.  It  was  a  moment  before  Rollins  could 
recognize  either ;  but  in  that  moment  the  girl  had  turned  suddenly, 
had  thrown  her  arms  about  the  neck  of  the  tall  young  man,  and,  with 
her  head  pillowed  on  his  breast,  was  gazing  up  in  his  face. 

"  Kiss  me  once  more,  Howard.  Then  I  must  go,"  they  heard  her 
whisper. 

Rollins  seized  his  captain's  sleeve,  and  strove,  sick  at  heart,  to  pull 
him  back;  but  Chester  stoutly  stood  his  ground.  In  the  few  seconds 
more  that  they  remained  they  saw  his  arras  more  closely  enfold  her. 
They  saw  her  turn  at  the  brink,  and,  in  an  utter  abandonment  of  rap- 
turous, passionate  love,  throw  her  arms  again  about  his  neck  and  stand 
on  tiptoe  to  reach  his  face  with  her  warm  lips.  They  could  not  fail 
to  hear  the  caressing  tone  of  her  every  word,  or  to  mark  his  receptive 
but  gloomy  silence.  They  could  not  mistake  the  voice, — the  form, 
shadowy  though  it  was.  The  girl  was  Nina  Beaubien,  and  the  man, 
beyond  question,  Howard  Jerrold.  They  saw  him  hand  her  into  the 
light  skiff  and  hurriedly  kiss  her  good-night.  Once  again,  as  though 
she  could  not  leave  him,  her  arms  were  thrown  about  his  neck  and  she 
clung  to  him  with  all  her  strength ;  then  the  little  boat  swung  slowly 
out  into  the  stream,  the  sculls  were  shipped,  and  with  practised  hand 
Nina  Beaubien  pulled  forth  into  the  swirling  waters  of  the  river,  and 
the  faint  light,  like  slowly-setting  star,  floated  downward  with  the 
sweeping  tide  and  finally  disappeared  beyond  the  point. 

Then  Jerrold  turned  to  leave,  and  Chester  stepped  forth  and  con- 
fronted him : 

"  Mr.  Jerrold,  did  I  not  instruct  you  to  confine  yourself  to  your 


844  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

quarters  until  satisfactory  explanation  was  made  of  the  absences  with 
which  you  are  charged  ?" 

Jerrold  started  at  the  abrupt  and  unlooked-for  greeting,  but  his 
answer  was  prompt : 

"  Not  at  all,  sir.  You  gave  me  to  understand  that  I  was  to  remairt 
here — not  to  leave  the  post — until  you  had  decided  on  certain  points ; 
and,  though  I  do  not  admit  the  justice  of  your  course,  and  though  you 
have  put  me  to  grave  inconvenience,  I  obeyed  the  order.  I  needed  to 
go  to  town  to-day  on  urgent  business,  but,  between  you  and  Captain 
Armitage,  am  in  no  condition  to  go.  For  all  this,  sir,  there  will  come 
proper  retribution  when  my  colonel  returns.  And  now,  sir,  you  are 
spying  upon  me, — spying,  I  say, — and  it  only  confirms  what  I  said  of 
you  before." 

"  Silence,  Mr.  Jerrold  !     This  is  insubordination." 

"  I  don't  care  a  damn  what  it  is,  sir !  There  is  nothing  contemptuous 
enough  for  me  to  say  of  you  or  your  conduct  to  me " 

"  JSTot  another  word,  Mr.  Jerrold  !  Go  to  your  quarters  in  arrest. 
— Mr.  Rollins,  you  are  witness  to  this  language." 

But  Rollins  was  not.  Turning  from  the  spot  in  blankness  of  heart 
before  a  word  was  uttered  between  them,  he  followed  the  waning  light 
with  eyes  full  of  yearning  and  trouble ;  lie  trudged  his  way  down  along 
the  sandy  shore  until  he  came  to  the  silent  waters  of  the  slough  and 
could  go  no  farther ;  and  then  he  sat  him  down  and  covered  his  face 
with  his  hands.     It  was  pretty  hard  to  bear. 

XV. 

Tuesday  still,  and  all  manner  of  things  had  happened  and  were  still 
to  happen  in  the  hurrying  hours  that  followed  Sunday  night.  The 
garrison  woke  at  Tuesday's  reveille  in  much  perturbation  of  spirit, 
as  has  been  said,  but  by  eight  o'clock  and  breakfast-time  one  cause  of 
perplexity  was  at  an  end.  Relief  had  come  with  Monday  afternoon 
and  Alice  Renwick's  letter  saying  she  would  not  attend  the  german, 
and  now  still  greater  relief  in  the  news  that  sped  from  mouth  to  mouth  : 
Lieutenant  Jerrold  was  in  close  arrest.  Armitage  and  Chester  had  been 
again  in  consultation  Monday  night,  said  the  gossips,  and  something 
new  had  been  discovered, — no  one  knew  just  what, — and  the  toils  had 
settled  upon  Jerrold's  handsome  head,  and  now  he  was  to  be  tried.  As 
usual  in  such  cases,  the  news  came  in  through  the  kitchen,  and  most 
officers  heard  it  at  the  break fxst-table  from  the  lips  of  their  better 
halves,  who  could  hardly  find  words  to  express  their  sentiments  as  to 
the  inability  of  their  lords  to  explain  the  new  phase  of  the  situation. 
When  the  first  sergeant  of  Company  B  came  around  to  Captain  Armi- 
tage with  the  sick-book,  soon  after  six  in  the  morning,  the  captain 
briefly  directed  him  to  transfer  Lieutenant  Jerrold  on  the  morning 
report  from  present  for  duty  to  "  in  arrest,"  and  no  sooner  was  it 
known  at  the  quarters  of  Company  B  than  it  began  to  work  back  to 
Officers'  Row  through  the  medium  of  the  servants  and  strikers. 

It  was  the  sole  topic  of  talk  for  a  full  hour.  Many  ladies  who  had 
intended  going  to  town  by  the  early  train  almost  perilled  their  chances 
of  catching  the  same  in  their  eagerness  to  hear  further  details. 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  845 

But  the  shriek  of  the  whistle  far  up  the  valley  broke  up  the  group 
that  was  so  busily  chatting  and  speculating  over  in  the  quadrangle,  and, 
with  shy  yet  curious  eyes,  the  party  of  at  least  a  dozen — matrons  and 
maids,  wives  or  sisters  of  the  officers — scurried  past  the  darkened  win- 
dows of  Mr.  Jerrold's  quarters,  and  through  the  mysterious  passage 
west  of  the  colonel's  silent  house,  and  down  the  long  stairs,  just  in 
time  to  catch  the  train  that  whirled  them  away  city-ward  almost  as  soon 
as  it  had  disgorged  the  morning's  mail.  Chatting  and  laughing,  and  full 
of  blithe  anticipation  of  the  glories  of  the  coming  german,  in  prepara- 
tion for  which  most  of  their  number  had  found  it  necessary  to  run  in 
for  just  an  hour's  shopping,  they  went  jubilantly  on  their  way.  Shop- 
ping done,  they  would  all  meet,  take  luncheon  togetlier  at  the  "  Woman's 
Exchange,"  return  to  the  post  by  the  afternoon  train,  and  have  plenty 
of  time  for  a  little  nap  before  dressing  for  the  german.  Perhaps  the 
most  interesting  question  now  up  for  discussion  was,  who  woukl  lead 
with  Mr.  Rollins?  The  train  went  puffing  into  the  crowded  depot: 
the  ladies  hastened  forth,  and  in  a  moment  were  on  the  street ;  cabs  and 
carriages  were  passed  in  disdain ;  a  brisk  walk  of  a  block  carried  them 
to  the  main  thoroughfare  and  into  the  heart  of  the  shopping  district ;  a 
rush  of  hoofs  and  wheels  and  pedestrians  there  encountered  them,  and 
the  roar  assailed  their  sensitive  and  unaccustomed  ears,  yet  high  above 
it  all  pierced  and  pealed  the  shrill  voices  of  the  newsboys  darting  here 
and  there  with  theii*  eagerly-bought  journals.  But  women  bent  on 
gerraans  and  shopping  have  time  and  ears  for  no  such  news  as  that 
which  demands  the  publication  of  extras.  Some  of  them  never  hear 
or  heed  the  cry,  "  Indian  Massacree  !"  "  Here  y'are  !  All  about  the 
killin'  of  Major  Thornton  an'  his  sojers  !"  "  Extry  ! — extry  !"  It 
is  not  until  they  reach  the  broad  portals  of  the  great  Stewart  of  the 
West  that  one  of  their  number,  half  incredulously,  buys  a  copy  and 

reads  aloud  :  "  Major  Thornton, th  Infantry,  Captain  Langham  and 

Lieutenant  Bliss, th  Cavalry,  and  thirty  men,  are  killed.    Captains 

Wright  and  Lane  and  Lieutenants  Willard  and  Brooks, th  Cavalry, 

and  some  forty  more  men,  are  seriously  wounded.  The  rest  of  the 
command  is  corralled  by  an  overwhelming  force  of  Indians,  and  their 
only  hope  is  to  hold  out  until  help  can  reach  them.  All  troops  along 
the  line  of  the  Union  Pacific  are  already  under  orders." 

"Oh,  isn't  it  dreadful?" 

"  Yes ;  but  aren't  you  glad  it  wasn't  Ours  ?  Oh,  look  !  there's  Nina 
Beaubien  over  there  in  her  carriage.  Do  let's  find  out  if  she's  going  to 
lead  with  Rollins !" 

VcB  victis  !  Far  out  in  the  glorious  Park  country  in  the  heart  of 
the  Centennial  State  a  little  band  of  blue-coats,  sent  to  succor  a  perilled 
agent,  is  making  desperate  stand  against  fearful  odds.  Less  than  two 
hundred  men  has  the  wisdom  of  the  Department  sent  forth  through  the 
wilderness  to  find  and,  if  need  be,  fight  its  way  through  five  times  its 
weight  in  well-armed  foes.  The  officers  and  men  have  no  special 
quarrel  with  those  Indians,  nor  the  Indians  with  them.  Only  two 
winters  before,  when  those  same  Indians  were  sick  and  starving,  and 
their  lying  go-betweens,  the  Bureau-employees,  would  give  them  neither 
food  nor  justice,  a  small  band  made  their  way  to  the  railway  and  were 


846  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

fed  on  soldier  food  and  their  wrongs  righted  by  soldier  justice.  But 
another  snarl  has  come  now,  and  this  time  the  Bureau-people  are  in  a 
pickle,  and  the  army — ever  between  two  fires  at  least,  and  thankful 
when  it  isn't  six — is  ordered  to  send  a  little  force  and  go  out  there 
and  help  the  agent  maintain  his  authority.  The  very  night  before  the 
colmnn  reaches  the  borders  of  the  reservation  the  leading  chiefs  come 
in  camp  to  interview  the  officers,  shake  hands,  beg  tobacco,  and  try  on 
their  clothes,  then  go  back  to  their  braves  and  laugh  as  they  tell  there 
are  only  a  handful,  and  plan  the  morrow's  ambuscade  and  massacre. 
Vce  victis  !  There  are  women  and  children  among  the  garrisons  along 
the  Union  Pacific  whose  hearts  have  little  room  for  thoughts  of  germans 
in  the  horror  of  this  morning's  tidings.  But  Sibley  is  miles  and  miles 
away,  and,  as  Mrs.  Wheeler  says,  aren't  you  glad  it  wasn't  Ours? 

Out  at  the  fort  there  is  a  different  scene.  The  morning  journals  and 
the  clicking  telegraph  send  a  thrill  thronghout  the  whole  command. 
The  train  has  barely  whistled  out  of  sight  when  the  ringing  notes  of 
officers'  call  resound  through  the  quadrangle  and  out  over  the  broader 
drill-ground  beyond.  Wondering,  but  prompt,  the  staid  captains  and 
eager  subalterns  come  hurrying  to  head-quarters,  and  the  band,  that 
had  come  forth  and  taken  its  station  on  the  parade,  all  ready  for 
guard-mount,  goes  quickly  back,  while  the  men  gather  in  big  squads 
along  the  shaded  row  of  their  quarters  and  watch  the  rapid  assembly 
at  the  office.  And  there  old  Chester,  with  kindling  eyes,  reads  to  the 
silent  company  the  brief  official  order.  Ay,  though  it  be  miles  and 
miles  away,  fast  as  steam  and  wheel  can  take  it,  the  good  old  regiment 
in  all  its  sturdy  strength  goes  forth  to  join  the  rescue  of  the  imprisoned 
comrades  far  in  the  Colorado  Rockies.  "  Have  your  entire  command  in 
readiness  for  immediate  field-service  in  the  Department  of  the  Platte. 
Special  train  will  be  there  to  take  you  by  noon  at  latest."  And  though 
many  a  man  has  lost  friend  and  comrade  in  the  tragfidy  that  calls  them 
forth,  and  though  many  a  brow  clouds  for  the  moment  with  the  bitter 
news  of  such  useless  sacrifice,  every  eye  brightens,  every  muscle  seems 
to  brace,  every  nerve  and  pulse  to  throb  and  thrill  with  the  glorious 
excitement  of  quick  assembly  and  coming  action.  Ay,  we  are  miles 
and  miles  away ;  we  leave  the  dear  old  post,  with  homes  and  firesides, 
wives,  children,  and  sweethearts,  all  to  the  care  of  the  few  whom  sick- 
ness or  old  wounds  or  advancing  years  render  unfit  for  hard,  sharp 
marching ;  and,  thank  God !  we'll  be  there  to  take  a  hand  and  help 
those  gallant  fellows  out  of  their  "  corral"  or  to  have  one  good  blow  at 
the  cowardly  liounds  who  lured  and  lied  to  them. 

How  the  "  assembly"  rings  on  the  morning  air  !  How  quick  they 
spring  to  ranks,  those  eager  bearded  faces  and  trim  blue.-clad  forms ! 
How  buoyant  and  brisk  even  the  elders  seem  as  the  captains  speed  over 
to  their  company  quarters  and  the  quick,  stirring  orders  are  given  ! 
"  Field  kits ;  all  the  cooked  rations  you  have  on  hand ;  overcoat, 
blanlvct,  extra  socks  and  underclothes ;  every  cartridge  you've  got ; 
haversack  and  canteen,  and  nothing  else.  Now  get  ready, — lively  !" 
How  irrepressible  is  the  cheer  tliat  goes  up !  How  we  pity  the  swells 
of  the  light  battery  who  have  to  stay  !  How  wistful  those  fellows 
look,  and  how  eagerly  they  throng  about  the  barracks,  yearning  to  go, 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  847 

and,  since  that  is  denied,  praying  to  be  of  use  in  some  way !  Small 
wonder  is  it  that  all  the  bustle  and  excitement  penetrates  the  portals  of 
Mr.  Jerrold's  darkened  quartei*s,  and  the  shutters  are  thrown  open  and 
his  bandaged  head  comes  forth. 

"  What  is  it,  Harris  ?"  he  demands  of  a  light-batteryman  who  is 
hurrying  past. 

"  Orders  for  Colorado,  sir.  The  regiment  goes  by  special  train. 
Major  Thornton's  command's  been  massacred,  and  there's  a  big  fight 
ahead." 

^'  My  God  !  Here  ! — stop  one  moment.  Run  over  to  Company 
B  and  see  if  you  can  find  my  servant,  or  Merrick,  or  somebody. 
If  not,  you  come  back  quick.  I  want  to  send  a  note  to  Captain 
Armitage." 

"  I  can  take  it,  sir.  We're  not  going.  The  band  and  the  battery 
have  to  stay." 

And  Jerrold,  with  trembling  hand  and  feverish  haste,  seats  himself 
at  the  same  desk  whence  on  that  fatal  morning;  he  sent  the  note  that 
wrought  such  disaster ;  and  as  he  rises  and  hands  his  missive  forth, 
throwing  wide  open  the  shutters  as  he  does  so,  his  bedroom  doors  fly 
open,  and  a  whirling  gust  of  the  morning  wind  sweeps  through  from 
rear  to  front,  and  half  a  score  of  bills  and  billets,  letters  and  scraps  of 
paper,  go  ballooning  out  upon  the  parade. 

"By  heaven  !"  he  mutters,  "that's  how  it  happened,  is  it?  Look 
at  them  go !"  for  going  they  were,  in  spiral  eddies  or  fluttering  skips, 
up  the  grassy  "  quad,"  and  over  among  the  rose-bushes  of  Alice  Ren- 
wick's  garden.  Over  on  the  other  side  of  the  narrow,  old-fashioned 
frontier  fort  the  men  were  bustling  about,  and  their  exultant,  eager 
voices  rang  out  on  the  morning  air.  All  was  life  and  animation,  and 
even  in  Jerrold's  selfish  soul  there  rose  responsive  echo  to  the  soldierly 
spirit  that  seemed  to  pervade  the  whole  command.  It  was  their  first 
summons  to  active  field-duty  with  prospective  battle  since  he  had  joined, 
and,  with  all  his  shortcomings  as  a  "  duty"  officer  in  garrison  and  his 
many  frailties  of  character,  Jerrold  was  not  the  man  to  lurk  in  the  rear 
when  there  was  danger  ahead.  It  dawned  on  him  with  sudden  and 
crushing  force  that  now  it  lay  in  the  power  of  his  enemies  to  do  him 
vital  injury, — that  he  could  be  held  here  at  the  post  like  a  suspected 
felon,  a  mark  for  every  finger,  a  target  for  every  tongue,  while  every 
other  officer  of  his  regiment  was  hurrying  with  his  men  to  take  his 
knightly  share  in  the  coming  onset.  It  was  intolerable,  shameful. 
He  paced  the  floor  of  his  little  parlor  in  nervous  misery,  ever  and  anon 
gazing  from  the  window  for  sight  of  his  captain.  It  was  to  him  he 
had  written,  urging  that  he  be  permitted  a  few  moments'  talk.  "  This 
is  no  time  for  a  personal  misunderstanding,"  he  wrote.  "  I  must  see 
you  at  once.  I  can  clear  away  the  doubts,  can  explain  my  action ;  but, 
for  heaven's  sake,  intercede  for  me  with  Captain  Chester  that  I  may 
go  with  the  command." 

As  luck  would  have  it,  Armitage  was  with  Chester  at  the  office 
when  the  letter  was  handed  in.  He  opened  it,  gave  a  whistle  of  sur- 
prise, and  simply  held  it  forth  to  the  temporary  commander. 

"  Read  that,"  he  said. 


848  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

Chester  frowned,  but  took  the  note  and  looked  it  curiously  over. 

"  I  have  no  patience  with  the  man  now,"  he  said.  "  Of  course 
after  what  I  saw  last  night  I  begin  to  understand  the  nature  of  his 
defence ;  but  we  don't  want  any  such  man  in  the  regiment,  after  this. 
What's  the  use  of  taking  him  with  us  ?" 

"  That  isn't  the  point,"  said  Armitage.  "  Now  or  never,  possibly, 
is  the  time  to  clear  up  this  mystery.  Of  course  Maynard  will  be  up 
to  join  us  by  the  first  train ;  and  what  won't  it  be  worth  to  him  to  have 
positive  proof  that  all  his  fears  were  unfounded  ?" 

"  Even  if  it  wasn't  Jerrold,  there  is  still  the  fact  that  I  saw  a  man 
clambering  out  of  her  window.  How  is  that  to  be  cleared  up  ?"  said 
Chester,  gloomily. 

"  That  may  come  later,  and  won't  be  such  a  bugbear  as  you  think. 
If  you  were  not  worried  into  a  morbid  condition  over  all  this  trouble, 
you  would  not  look  so  seriously  upon  a  thing  which  I  regard  as  a  piece 
of  mere  night  prowling,  with  a  possible  spice  of  romance." 

"  What  romance,  I'd  like  to  know  ?" 

"  Never  mind  that  now :  I'm  playing  detective  for  the  time 
being.  Let  me  see  Jerrold  for  you  and  find  out  what  he  has  to  offer. 
Then  you  can  decide.  Are  you  willing  ?  All  right !  But  remember 
this  while  I  think  of  it.  You  admit  that  the  light  you  saw  on  the 
wall  Sunday  night  was  exactly  like  that  which  you  saw  the  night  of 
your  adventure,  and  that  the  shadows  were  thrown  in  the  same  way. 
You  thought  that  night  that  the  light  was  turned  up  and  afterwards 
turned  out  in  her  room,  and  that  it  was  her  figure  you  saw  at  the 
window.     Didn't  you?" 

"  Yes.     What  then  ?" 

"  Well,  I  believe  her  statement  that  she  saw  and  heard  nothing 
until  reveille.  I  believe  it  was  Mrs.  Maynard  who  did  the  whole  thing, 
without  Miss  Renwick's  knowing  anything  about  it." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  I  accomplished  the  feat  with  the  aid  of  the  little  night- 
lamp  that  I  found  by  the  colonel's  bedside.  It  is  my  theory  that  Mrs. 
Maynard  was  restless  after  the  colonel  finally  fell  asleep,  that  she  heard 
your  tumble,  and  took  her  little  lamp,  crossed  over  into  Miss  Renwick's 
room,  opened  the  door  without  creaking,  as  I  can  do  to  your  satisfaction, 
found  her  sleeping  quietly,  but  the  room  a  trifle  close  and  warm,  set 
hei*  night-lamp  down  on  the  table,  as  I  did,  threw  her  shadow  on  the 
wall,  as  I  did,  and  opened  the  shade,  as  you  thought  her  daughter  did. 
Then  she  withdrew,  and  left  those  doors  open, — both  hers  and  her 
daughter's, — and  the  light,  instead  of  being  turned  down,  as  you 
th(riight,  was  simply  carried  back  into  her  own  room." 

"  That  is  all  possible.  But  how  about  the  man  in  her  room  ? 
Nothing  was  stolen,  though  money  and  jewelry  were  lying  around 
loose.     If  theft  was  not  the  object,  what  was  ?" 

"  Theft  certainly  was  not,  and  I'm  not  prepared  to  say  what  was, 
but  I  have  reason  to  believe  it  wasn't  Miss  Ren  wick." 

"  Anything  to  prove  it  ?" 

"  Yes ;  and,  though  time  is  precious  and  I  cannot  show  you,  you 
may  take  my  word  for  it.     We  must  be  off  at  noon,  and  both  of  us 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  849 

have  much  to  do,  but  there  may  be  no  other  chance  to  talk,  and  before 
you  leave  this  post  I  want  you  to  realize  her  utter  innocence." 

"  I  want  to,  Armitage.'* 

"  I  know  you  do  :  so  look  here.  We  assume  that  the  same  man 
paid  the  night  visit  both  here  and  at  Sablon,  and  that  he  wanted  to  see 
the  same  person, — if  he  did  not  come  to  steal :  do  we  not  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  We  know  that  at  Sablon  it  was  Mrs.  Maynard  he  sought  and 
called.     The  colonel  says  so." 

"  Yes." 

"  Presumably,  then,  it  was  she — not  her  daughter — he  had  some 
reasons  for  wanting  to  see  here  at  Sibley.  What  is  more,  if  he  wanted 
to  see  Miss  Renwick  there  was  nothing  to  prevent  his  going  right  into 
her  window  ?" 

"  Nothing." 

"Well,  I  believe  I  can  prove  he  didn't;  on  the  contrary,  that  he 
went  around  by  the  roof  of  the  porch  to  tlie  colonel's  room  and  tried 
there,  but  found  it  risky  on  account  of  the  blinds,  and  that  finally  he 
entered  the  hall  window, — what  might  be  called  neutral  ground.  The 
painters  had  been  at  work  there,  as  you  said,  two  days  before,  and  the 
paint  on  the  slats  was  not  quite  dry.  The  blinds  and  sills  were  the 
only  things  they  had  touched  up  on  that  front,  it  seems,  and  nothing 
on  the  sides.  Now,  on  the  fresh  paint  of  the  colonel's  slats  are  the 
new  imprints  of  masculine  thumb  and  fingers,  and  on  the  sill  of  the 
hall  window  is  a  footprint  that  I  know  to  be  other  than  Jerrold's." 

"Why?" 

"Because  he  doesn't  own  such  a  thing  as  this  track  was  made 
with,  and  I  don't  know  a  man  in  this  command  who  does.  It  was  the 
handiwork  of  the  Tonto  Apaches,  and  came  from  the  other  side  of  the 
continent." 

"  You  mean  it  was ?" 

"  Exactly.     An  Indian  moccasin." 

Meantime,  Mr.  Jerrold  had  been  making  hurried  preparations,  as 
he  had  fully  determined  that  at  any  cost  he  would  go  with  the  regi- 
ment. He  had  been  burning  a  number  of  letters,  when  Captain 
Armitage  knocked  and  hurriedly  entered.  Jerrold  pushed  forward  a 
chair  and  plunged  at  once  into  the  matter  at  issue : 

"  There  is  no  time  to  waste,  captain.  I  have  sent  to  you  to  ask 
what  I  can  do  to  be  released  from  arrest  and  permitted  to  go  with  the 
command." 

"  Answer  the  questions  I  put  to  you  the  other  night,  and  certify  to 
your  answers ;  and  of  course  you'll  have  to  apologize  to  Captain  Chester 
for  your  last  night's  language." 

"Tliat  of  course;  though  you  will  admit  it  looked  like  spying. 
Now  let  me  ask  you,  did  he  tell  you  who  the  lady  was  ?" 

"  No.     I  told  him." 

"  How  did  you  know?" 

"  By  intuition,  and  my  knowledge  of  previous  circumstances." 

"  We  have  no  time  to  discuss  it.  I  make  no  attempt  to  conceal  it 
now ;  but  I  ask  that,  on  your  honor,  neither  you  nor  he  reveal  it." 


850  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

"  And  continue  to  let  the  garrison  believe  that  you  were  in  Miss 
Renwick's  room  that  ghastly  night?"  asked  Armitage,  dryly. 

Jerrold  flushed  :  ''  I  have  denied  that,  and  I  would  have  proved  my 
alibi  could  I  have  done  so  without  betraying  a  woman's  secret.  Must 
I  tell  ?" 

"  So  far  as  I  am  concerned,  Mr.  Jerrold,"  said  Armitage,  ^dth  cold 
and  relentless  meaning,  "  you  not  only  must  tell — you  must  prove — 
both  that  night's  doings  and  Saturday  night's, — both  that  and  how  you 
obtained  that  photograph." 

"  My  God  !  In  one  case  it  is  a  woman's  name ;  in  the  other  I  have 
promised  on  honor  not  to  reveal  it." 

"  That  ends  it,  then.  You  remain  here  in  close  arrest,  and  tlie 
charges  against  you  will  be  pushed  to  the  bitter  end.  I  will  write  them 
this  very  hour." 

XVI. 

At  ten  o'clock  that  morning,  shortly  after  a  smiling  interview  with 
the  ladies  of  Fort  Sibley,  in  which,  with  infinite  spirit  and  the  most 
perfect  self-control.  Miss  Beaubien  had  informed  them  that  she  had 
promised  to  lead  with  Mr.  Jerrold,  and,  since  he  was  in  duress,  she 
would  lead  with  no  one,  and  sent  them  off  wondering  and  greatly  ex- 
cited, there  came  running  up  to  the  carriage  a  telegraph  messenger  boy, 
who  handed  her  a  despatch. 

"  I  was  going  up  to  the  avenue,  mum,"  he  explained,  "  but  I  seen 
you  here." 

Nina's  face  paled  as  she  tore  it  open  and  read  the  curt  lines : 
"  Come  to  me,  here.  Your  help  needed  instantly." 
She  sprang  from  the  carriage.  "  Tell  mother  I  have  gone  over  to 
see  some  Fort  friends, — not  to  wait,"  she  called  to  the  coachman,  well 
knowing  he  would  understand  that  she  meant  the  ladies  with  whom  she 
had  been  so  recently  talking.  Like  a  frightened  deer  she  sped  around 
the  corner,  hailed  the  driver  of  a  cab,  lounging  v/ith  his  fellows  along 
the  walk,  ordered  him  to  drive  with  all  speed  to  Summit  Avenue,  and 
with  beating  heart  decided  on  her  plan.  Her  glorious  eyes  were  flash- 
ing :  the  native  courage  and  fierce  determination  of  her  race  were 
working  in  her  woman's  heart.  She  well  knew  that  imminent  danger 
threatened  him.  She  had  dared  everything  for  love  of  his  mere  pres- 
ence, his  sweet  caress.  What  would  she  not  dare  to  save  him,  if  save 
she  could  ?  He  had  not  been  true  to  her.  She  knew,  and  knew  well, 
that,  whether  sought  or  not,  Alice  Renwick  had  been  winning  him  from 
her,  that  he  was  wavering,  that  he  had  been  cold  and  negligent ;  but  with 
all  her  soul  and  strength  she  loved  him,  and  believed  him  grand  and 
brave  and  fine  as  he  was  beautiful.  Now — now  was  her  opportunity. 
He  needed  her.  His  commission,  his  honor,  depended  on  her.  He 
had  intimated  as  much  the  night  before, — had  told  her  of  the  accusa- 
tions and  suspicions  that  attached  to  him, — but  made  no  mention  of 
the  pliotograph.  He  had  said  that  though  nothing  could  drag  from 
him  a  word  that  would  compromise  her,  she  might  be  called  upon  to 
stand  'twixt  him  and  ruin  ;  and  now  perhaps  the  hour  had  come.  She 
could  free,  exonerate,  glorify  him,  and  in  doing  so  claim  him  for  her 


FROM   THE  RANKS.  851 

own.    Who,  after  this,  could  stand  'twixt  her  and  him  ?    He  loved  her, 

though  he  had  been  cold  ;  and  she ?     Had  he  bidden  her  bow  her 

dusky  head  to  earth  and  kiss  the  print  of  his  heel,  she  would  have 
obeyed  could  she  but  feel  sure  that  her  reward  would  be  a  simple  touch 
of  his  hand,  an  assurance  that  no  other  woman  could  find  a  moment's 
place  in  his  love.  Yerily,  he  had  been  doing  desperate  wooing  in  the 
long  winter,  for  tlie  very  depths  of  her  nature  were  all  athrob  with 
love  for  him.  And  now  he  could  no  longer  plead  that  poverty  with- 
held his  offer  of  his  hand.  She  would  soon  be  mistress  of  her  own 
little  fortune,  and,  at  her  mother's  death,  of  an  independence.  Go  to 
him  she  would,  and  on  wings  of  the  wind,  and  go  she  did.  The  cab 
released  her  at  the  gate  to  her  home,  and  went  back  with  a  double  fare 
that  set  the  driver  to  thinking.  She  sped  through  the  house,  and  out 
the  rear  doors,  much  to  the  amaze  of  cook  and  others  who  were  in  con- 
sultation in  the  kitchen.  She  flew  down  a  winding  flight  of  stairs  to 
the  level  below,  and  her  fairy  feet  went  tripping  over  the  pavement  of 
a  plebeian  street.  A  quick  turn,  and  she  was  at  a  little  second-rate 
stable,  whose  proprietor  knew  her  and  started  from  his  chair. 
"  What's  wrong  to-day.  Miss  Nina  ?" 

"  I  want  the  roan  mare  and  light  buggy  again, — quick  as  you  can. 
Your  own  price  at  the  old  terms,  Mr.  Graves, — silence." 

He  nodded,  called  to  a  subordinate,  and  in  five  minutes  handed  her 
into  the  frail  vehicle.  An  impatient  chirrup  and  flap  of  the  reins,  and 
the  roan  shot  forth  into  the  dusty  road,  leaving  old  Graves  shaking  his 
head  at  the  door. 

"  I've  known  her  ever  since  she  was  weaned,"  he  muttered,  "  and 
she's  a  wild  bird,  if  ever  there  was  one,  but  she's  never  been  the  like  o' 
this  till  last  month." 

And  the  roan  mare  was  covered  with  foam  and  sweat  when  Nina 
Beaubien  drove  into  the  bustling  fort,  barely  an  hour  after  her  receipt 
of  Jerrold's  telegram.  A  few  officers  were  gathered  in  front  of  head- 
quarters, and  there  were  curious  looks  from  face  to  face  as  she  was 
recognized.  Mr.  Rollins  was  on  the  walk,  giving  some  instructions  to 
a  sergeant  of  his  company,  and  never  saw  her  until  the  buggy  reined 
up  close  behind  him  and,  turning  suddenly,  he  met  her  face  to  face  as 
she  sprang  lightly  to  the  ground.  The  young  fellow  reddened  to  his 
eyes,  and  would  have  recoiled,  but  she  was  mistress  of  the  situation. 
She  well  knew  she  had  but  to  command  and  he  would  obey,  or,  at  the 
most,  if  she  could  no  longer  command  she  had  only  to  implore,  and  he 
would  be  powerless  to  withstand  her  entreaty. 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  here,  Mr.  Rollins.  You  can  help  me. — Ser- 
geant, will  you  kindly  hitch  my  horse  at  that  post  ? — Now,"  she  added, 
in  low,  hurried  tone,  "come  with  me  to  Mr.  Jerrold's." 

Rollins  was  too  stupefied  to  answer.  Silently  he  placed  himself  by 
her  side,  and  together  they  passed  the  group  at  the  office.  Miss  Beau- 
bien nodded  with  something  of  her  old  archness  and  coquetry  to  the 
cap-raising  party,  but  never  hesitated.  Together  they  passed  along  the 
narrow  board  walk,  followed  by  curious  eyes,  and  as  they  reached  the 
angle  and  stepped  beneath  the  shelter  of  the  piazza  in  front  of  the  long, 
low,  green-blinded  Bachelors'  Row,  there  was  sudden  sensation  in  the 


852  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

group.  Mr.  Jerrold  appeared  at  the  door  of  his  quarters ;  Rollins 
halted  some  fifty  feet  away,  raised  his  cap,  and  left  her ;  and,  all  alone, 
with  the  eyes  of  Fort  Sibley  upon  her,  Nina  Beaubien  stepped  bravely 
forward  to  meet  her  lover. 

They  saw  him  greet  her  at  the  door.  Some  of  them  turned  away, 
unwilling  to  look,  and  yet  unwilling  to  go  and  not  understand  this  new 
phase  of  the  mystery.  Rollins,  looking  neither  to  right  nor  left,  re- 
passed them  and  walked  off  with  a  set,  savage  look  on  his  young 
face,  and  then,  as  one  or  two  still  gazed,  fascinated  by  this  strange  and 
daring  proceeding,  others,  too,  turned  back  and,  half  ashamed  of  them- 
selves for  such  a  yielding  to  curiosity,  glanced  furtively  over  at  Jerrold's 
door. 

There  they  stood, — he,  restrained  by  his  arrest,  unable  to  come 
forth ;  she,  restrained  more  by  his  barring  form  than  by  any  considera- 
tion of  maidenly  reserve,  for,  had  he  bidden,  she  would  have  gone 
within.  She  had  fully  made  up  her  mind  that  wherever  he  was,  even 
were  it  behind  the  sentinels  and  bars  of  the  guard-house,  she  would 
demand  that  she  be  taken  to  his  side.  He  had  handed  out  a  chair,  but 
she  would  not  sit.  They  saw  her  looking  up  into  his  face  as  he  talked, 
and  noted  the  eager  gesticulation,  so  characteristic  of  his  Creole  blood, 
that  seemed  to  accompany  his  rapid  words.  They  saw  her  bending 
towards  him,  looking  eagerly  up  in  his  eyes,  and  occasionally  casting 
indignant  glances  over  towards  the  group  at  the  office,  as  though  she 
would  annihilate  with  her  wrath  the  persecutors  of  her  hero.  Then 
they  saw  her  stretch  forth  both  her  hands  with  a  quick  impulsive 
movement,  and  grasp  his  one  instant,  looking  so  faithfully,  steadfastly, 
loyally,  into  his  clouded  and  anxious  face.  Then  she  turned,  and  with 
quick,  eager  steps  came  tripping  towards  them.  They  stood  irresolute. 
Every  man  felt  that  it  was  somebody's  duty  to  step  forward,  meet  her, 
and  be  her  escort  though  the  party,  but  no  one  advanced.  There  was, 
if  anything,  a  tendency  to  sidle  towards  the  office  door,  as  though  to 
leave  the  sidewalk  unimpeded.  But  she  never  sought  to  pass  them  by. 
With  flashing  eyes  and  crimson  cheeks,  she  bore  straight  upon  them, 
and,  with  indignant  emphasis  upon  every  word,  accosted  them  : 

"  Captain  Wilton,  Major  Sloat,  I  wish  to  see  Captain  Chester  at 
once.     Is  he  in  the  office  ?" 

"  Certainly,  Miss  Beaubien.  Shall  I  call  him  ?  or  will  you  walk 
in  ?"     And  both  men  were  at  her  side  in  a  moment. 

"  Thanks.  I  will  go  right  in, — if  you  will  kindly  show  me  to 
him." 

Another  moment,  and  Armitage  and  Chester,  deep  in  the  midst 
of  their  duties  and  surrounded  by  clerks  and  orderlies  and  assailed  by 
half  a  dozen  questions  in  one  and  the  same  instant,  looked  up  aston- 
ished as  Wilton  stepped  in  and  announced  Miss  Beaubien  desiring  to 
see  Captain  Chester  on  immediate  business.  There  was  no  time  for 
conference.  There  she  stood  in  the  door-way,  and  all  tongues  were 
hushed  on  the  instant.  Chester  rose  and  stei)ped  forward  with  anxious 
courtesy.     She  did  not  choose  to  see  the  extended  hand. 

"  It  is  you,  alone,  I  wisli  to  see,  captain.     Is  it  impossible  here?" 

"  I  fear  it  is,  Miss  Beaubien ;  but  we  can  walk  out  in  the  open  air. 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  g53 

I  feel  that  I  know  what  it  is  you  wish  to  say  to  me,"  he  added,  in  a  low 
tone,  took  his  cap  from  the  peg  on  which  it  hung,  and  led  the  way. 
Again  she  passed  through  the  curious  but  respectiiil  group,  and  Jer- 
rold,  Avatching  furtively  from  his  window,  saw  them  come  forth. 

The  captain  turned  to  her  as  soon  as  they  were  out  of  earshot : 

"  I  have  no  daughter  of  my  own,  my  dear  young  lady,  but  if  I 
had  I  could  not  more  thoroughly  feel  for  you  than  I  do.  How  can  I 
help  you  ?" 

The  reply  was  unexpectedly  spirited.  He  had  thought  to  encour- 
age and  sustain  her,  be  sympathetic  and  paternal,  but,  as  he  afterwards 
ruefully  admitted,  he  "  never  did  seem  to  get  the  hang  of  a  woman's 
temperament."     Apparently  sympathy  was  not  the  thing  she  needed. 

"  It  is  late  in  the  day  to  ask  such  a  question.  Captain  Chester. 
You  have  done  great  wrong  and  injustice.  The  question  is  now, 
will  you  undo  it?" 

He  was  too  surprised  to  speak  for  a  moment.  When  his  tongue 
was  unloosed  he  said, — 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  be  convinced  I  was  wrong." 

"I  know  little  of  army  justice  or  army  laws.  Captain  Chester,  but 
when  a  girl  is  compelled  to  take  this  step  to  rescue  a  friend  there  is 
sometliing  brutal  about  them, — or  the  men  who  enforc;e  them.  Mr. 
Jerrold  tells  me  that  he  is  arrested.  I  knew  that  last  night,  but  not 
until  this  morning  did  he  consent  to  let  me  know  that  he  would  be 
court-martial  led  unless  he  could  prove  where  he  was  the  night  you  were 
officer  of  the  day  two  weeks  ago,  and  last  Saturday  night.  He  is  too 
noble  and  good  to  defend  himself  when  by  doing  so  he  might  harm  me. 
But  I  am  here  to  free  him  from  the  cruel  suspicion  you  have  formed." 
She  had  quickened  her  step,  and  in  her  impulsiveness  and  agitation 
they  were  almost  at  the  end  of  the  walk.  He  hesitated,  as  though  re- 
luctant to  go  along  under  the  piazza,  but  she  was  imperious,  and  he 
yielded.  "  No,  come !"  she  said.  "  I  mean  that  you  shall  hear  the 
whole  truth,  and  that  at  once.  I  do  not  expect  you  to  understand  or 
condone  my  conduct,  but  you  must  acquit  him.  We  are  engaged  ;  and 
— I  love  him.  He  has  enemies  here,  as  I  see  all  too  plainly,  and  they 
have  prejudiced  mother  against  him,  and  she  has  forbidden  my  seeing 
him.  I  came  out  to  the  fort  without  her  knowledge  one  day,  and  it 
angered  her.  From  that  time  she  would  not  let  me  see  him  alone. 
She  watched  every  movement,  and  came  with  me  wherever  I  drove. 
She  gave  orders  that  I  should  never  have  any  of  our  horses  to  drive  or 
ride  alone, — I,  whom  father  had  indulged  to  the  utmost  and  who  had 
ridden  and  driven  at  will  from  my  babyhood.  She  came  out  to  the 
fort  with  me  that  evening  for  parade,  and  never  even  agreed  to  let  me 
go  out  to  see  some  neighbors  until  she  learned  he  was  to  escort  Miss 
Renwick.  She  had  ordered  me  to  be  ready  to  go  with  her  to  Che- 
quamagon  the  next  day,  and  I  would  not  go  until  I  had  seen  him. 
There  had  been  a  misunderstanding.  I  got  the  Suttons  to  drive  me 
out  while  mother  supposed  me  at  the  Laurents',  and  Mr.  Jerrold  prom- 
ised to  meet  me  east  of  the  bridge  and  drive  in  town  with  us,  and  I  was 
to  send  him  back  in  Graves's  buggy.  He  had  been  refused  permission 
to  leave  the  post,  he  said,  and  could  not  cross  the  bridge,  where  the  sen- 


854  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

tries  would  be  sure  to  recognize  him,  but,  as  it  -was  our  last  chance  of 
meeting,  he  risked  the  discovery  of  his  absence,  never  dreaming  of  such 
a  thing  as  his  private  rooms  being  inspected.  He  had  a  little  skiff 
down  in  the  willows  that  he  had  used  before,  and  by  leaving  the  party 
at  midnight  he  could  get  home,  change  his  dress,  run  down  the  bank 
and  row  down-stream  to  the  Point,  there  leave  his  skiff  and  climb  up 
to  the  road.  He  met  us  there  at  one  o'clock,  and  the  Suttons  would 
never  betray  either  of  us,  though  they  did  not  know  we  were  engaged. 
We  sat  in  their  parlor  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after  we  got  to  town,  and 
then  'twas  time  to  go,  and  there  was  only  a  little  ten  minutes'  walk 
down  to  the  stable.  I  had  seen  him  such  a  very  short  time,  and  I  had 
so  much  to  tell  him."  (Chester  could  have  burst  into  rapturous  ap- 
plause had  she  been  an  actress.  Her  cheeks  were  aflame,  her  eyes  full 
of  fire  and  spirit,  her  bosom  heaving,  her  little  foot  tapping  the  ground, 
as  she  stood  there  leaning  on  the  colonel's  fence  and  looking  straight 
up  in  the  perturbed  veteran's  face.  She  was  magnificent,  he  said  to 
himself;  and,  in  her  bravery,  self-sacrifice,  and  indignation,  she  ivas.) 
"  It  was  then  after  two,  and  I  could  just  as  well  go  with  him, — some- 
body had  to  bring  the  buggy  back, — and  Graves  himself  hitched  in  his 
roan  mare  for  me,  and  I  drove  out,  picked  up  Mr.  Jerrold  at  the  cor- 
ner, and  we  came  out  here  again  through  the  darkness  together.  Even 
when  we  got  to  the  Point  I  did  not  let  him  go  at  once.  It  was  over  an 
hour's  drive.  It  was  fully  half-past  three  before  we  parted.  He  sprang 
down  the  path  to  reach  the  river-side ;  and  before  he  was  fairly  in  his 
boat  and  pulling  up  against  the  stream,  I  heard,  far  over  here  some- 
where, those  two  faint  shots.  That  was  the  shooting  he  spoke  of  in 
his  letter  to  me, — not  to  her ;  and  what  business  Colonel  Maynard  had 
to  read  and  exhibit  to  his  officers  a  letter  never  intended  for  him  I  can- 
not understand.  Mr.  Jerrold  says  it  was  not  what  he  wanted  it  to  be 
at  all,  as  he  wrote  hastily,  so  he  wrote  another,  and  sent  that  to  me  by 
Merrick  that  morning  after  his  absence  was  discovered.  It  probably 
blew  out  of  the  window,  as  these  other  things  did  this  morning.  See 
for  yourself,  captain."  And  she  pointed  to  the  two  or  three  bills  and 
scraps  that  had  evidently  only  recently  fluttered  in  among  the  now 
neglected  roses.  "Then  when  he  was  aroused  at  reveille  and  you 
threatened  him  with  punishment  and  held  over  his  head  the  startling 
accusation  that  you  knew  of  our  meeting  and  our  secret,  he  was  natu- 
rally infinitely  distressed,  and  could  only  write  to  Avarn  me,  and  he 
managed  to  get  in  and  say  good-by  to  me  at  the  station.  As  for  me,  I 
was  back  home  by  five  o'clock,  let  myself  noiselessly  up  to  my  room, 
and  no  one  knew  it  but  the  Suttons  and  old  Graves,  neither  of  whom 
would  betray  me.  I  had  no  fear  of  the  long  dark  road  :  I  had  ridden 
and  driven  as  a  child  all  over  these  bluffs  and  prairies  before  there  was 
any  town  worth  mentioning,  and  in  days  when  my  father  and  I  found 
only  friends — not  enemies — here  at  Sibley." 

"  Miss  Beaubien,  let  me  protest  againt  your  accusation.  It  is  not 
for  me  to  reprove  your  grave  imprudence  or  recklessness ;  nor  have  I 
the  right  to  disapprove  your  choice  of  Mr.  Jerrold.  Let  me  say  at 
once  that  you  have  none  but  friends  here ;  and  if  it  ever  should  be 
known  to  what  lengths  you  went  to  save  him,  it  will  only  make  him 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  355 

more  envied  and  you  more  genuinely  admired.  I  question  your 
wisdom,  but,  upon  my  soul,  I  admire  your  bravery  and  sj)irit.  You 
have  cleared  him  of  a  terrible  charge." 

A  most  disdainful  and  impatient  shrug  of  her  shapely  shoulders 
was  Miss  Beaubien's  only  answer  to  that  allusion.  _  The  possibility  of 
Mr.  Jerrold's  being  suspected  of  another  entanglement  was  something 
she  would  not  tolerate  : 

"  I  know  nothing  of  other  people's  affairs.  I  simply  speak  of  my 
own.  Let  us  end  this  as  quickly  as  possible,  captain.  Now  about 
Saturday  night.  Mother  had  consented  to  our  coming  back  for  the 
german, — she  enjoys  seeing  me  lead,  it  seems, — and  she  decided  to  pav 
a  short  visit  to  relations  at  St.  Croix,  staying  there  Saturday  night  and 
over  Sunday.  This  would  give  us  a  chance  to  meet  again,  as  he  could 
spend  the  evening  in  St.  Croix  and  return  by  late  train,  and  I  wrote 
and  asked  him.  He  came ;  we  had  a  long  talk  in  the  summer-hoase 
in  the  garden,  for  mother  never  dreamed  of  his  being  there,  and  un- 
luckily he  just  missed  the  night  train  and  did  not  get  back  until  in- 
spection. It  was  impossible  for  him  to  have  been  at  Sablon ;  and  he 
can  furnish  other  proof,  but  would  do  nothing  until  he  had  seen  me." 

"Miss  Beaubien,  you  have  cleared  him.  I  only  wish  that  you 
could  clear — every  one." 

"  I  am  in  no  wise  concerned  in  that  other  matter  to  which  you  have 
alluded ;  neither  is  Mr.  Jerrold.  May  I  say  to  him  at  once  that  this 
ends  his  persecution  ?" 

The  captain  smiled :  "  You  certainly  deserve  to  be  the  bearer  of 
good  tidings.     I  wish  he  may  appreciate  it." 

Another  moment,  and  she  had  left  him  and  sjied  back  to  Jerrold's 
door-way.  He  was  there  to  meet  her,  and  Chester  looked  with  grim 
and  uncertain  emotion  at  the  radiance  in  her  face.  He  had  to  get 
back  to  the  office  and  to  pass  them  :  so,  as  civilly  as  he  could,  consider- 
ing the  weight  of  wrath  and  contempt  he  felt  for  the  man,  he  stopped 
and  spoke : 

"Your  fair  advocate  has  been  all-powerfid,  Mr.  Jerrold.  I  con- 
gratulate you ;  and  your  arrest  is  at  an  end.  Captain  Armitage  will 
require  no  duty  of  you  until  we  are  aboard ;  but  we've  only  half  an 
hour.     The  train  is  coming  sharp  at  noon." 

"  Train  !  What  train  !  AVhere  are  you  going?"  she  asked,  a  wild 
anxiety  in  her  eyes,  a  sudden  pallor  on  her  face. 

"  We  are  ordered  post-haste  to  Colorado,  Nina,  to  rescue  what  is 
left  of  Thornton's  men.     But  for  you  I  should  have  been  left  behind." 

"  But  for  me  ! — left  behind !"  she  cried.  "  Oh,  Howard,  Howard ! 
have  I  only — only  won  you  to  send  you  into  danger  ?  Oh,  my  darling ! 
Oh,  God  !  Don't— don't  go  !  They  will  kill  you  !  It  will  kill  me  ! 
Oh,  what  have  I  done  ?  what  have  I  done  ?" 

"  Nina,  hush  !  My  honor  is  with  the  regiment.  I  must  go,  child. 
We'll  be  back  in  a  few  weeks.  Indeed,  I  fear  'twill  all  be  over  before 
we  get  there.  Nina,  don't  look  so  !  Don't  act  so  !  Think  where  vou 
are !" 

But  she  had  borne  too  much,  and  the  blow  came  all  too  soon, — too 
heavy.     She  was  wellnigh  senseless  when  the  Beaubien  carriage  came 


356  FROM   THE  RANKS. 

whirling  into  the  fort  and  old  Maman  rushed  forth  in  voluble  and 
rabid  charge  upon  her  daughter.  All  too  late !  it  was  useless  now. 
Her  darling's  heart  was  weaned  away,  and  her  love  lavished  on  that 
tall,  objectionable  young  soldier  so  soon  to  go  forth  to  battle.  Re- 
proaches, tears,  wrath,  were  all  in  order,  but  were  abandoned  at 
sight  of  })oor  Nina's  agony  of  grief.  Noon  came,  and  the  train,  and 
with  buoyant  tread  the  gallant  command  marched  down  the  winding 
road  and  filed  aboard  the  cars,  and  Howard  Jerrold,  shame-stricken, 
humbled  at  the  contemplation  of  his  own  unworthiness,  slowly  un- 
clasped her  arms  from  about  his  neck,  laid  one  long  kiss  upon  her 
white  and  quivering  lips,  took  one  brief  look  in  the  great,  dark,  haunt- 
ing, despairing  eyes,  and  carried  her  wail  of  anguish  ringing  in  his 
ears  as  he  sprang  aboard  and  was  whirled  away. 

But  there  were  women  who  deemed  themselves  worse  off  than  Nina 
Beaubien, — the  wives  and  daughters  and  SM^eethearts  whom  she  met 
that  morn  in  town  ;  for  when  they  got  back  to  Sibley  the  regiment  was 
miles  away.  For  them  there  was  not  even  a  kiss  from  the  lips  of 
those  they  loved.  Time  and  train  waited  for  no  woman.  There  were 
comrades  battling  for  life  in  the  Colorado  Rockies,  and  aid  could  not 
come  too  soon. 

XVII. 

Under  the  cloudless  heavens,  under  the  starlit  skies,  blessing  the 
grateful  dew  that  cools  the  upland  air  and  moistens  the  bunch-grass 
that  has  been  bleaching  all  day  in  the  fierce  rays  of  the  summer  sun,  a 
little  column  of  infantry  is  swinging  steadily  southward.  Long  and 
toilsome  has  been  the  march  ;  hot,  dusty,  and  parching  the  day.  Halts 
have  been  few  and  fav  between,  and  every  man,  from  the  colonel  down, 
is  coated  with  a  gray  mask  of  powdered  alkali,  the  contribution  of  a 
two  hours'  tramp  through  Deadman's  Canon  just  before  the  sun  went 
down.  Now,  however,  they  are  climbing  the  range.  The  morrow  will 
bring  them  to  the  broad  and  beautiful  valley  of  the  Spirit  Wolf,  and 
there  they  must  have  news.  Officers  and  men  are  footsore  and  weary, 
but  no  one  begs  for  rest.  Colonel  Maynard,  riding  ahead  on  a  sorry 
hack  he  picked  up  at  the  station  two  days'  long  march  behind  them,  is 
eager  to  reach  the  springs  at  Forest  Glade  before  ordering  bivouac  for 
the  night.  A  week  agone  no  one  who  saw  him  at  Sablon  would  have 
thought  the  colonel  fit  for  a  march  like  this;  but  he  seems  rejuvenate. 
His  head  is  high,  his  eye  as  bright,  his  bearing  as  full  of  spirit,  as 
man's  could  possibly  be  at  sixty,  and  the  whole  regiment  cheered  him 
when  he  caught  the  column  at  Omaha.  A  talk  with  Chester  and 
Armitage  seemed  to  have  made  a  new  man  of  him,  and  to-night  he  is 
full  of  an  energy  that  inspires  the  entire  command.  Though  they  were 
farther  away  than  many  other  troops  ordered  to  the  scene,  the  fact  that 
their  station  was  on  the  railway  and  that  they  could  be  sent  by  special 
trains  to  Omaha  and  thence  to  the  West  enabled  them  to  begin  their 
rescue-march  ahead  of  all  the  other  foot-troops  and  behind  only  the 
powerful  command  of  cavalry  that  was  whirled  to  the  scene  the 
moment  the  authorities  woke  up  to  the  fact  that  it  should  have  been 
sent  in  the  first  place.     Old  Maynard  would  give  his  very  ears  to  get 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  857 

to  Thornton's  corral  ahead  of  them,  but  the  cavalry  has  thirty-six 
hours'  start  and  four  legs  to  two.  Every  moment  he  looks  ahead  ex- 
pectant of  tidings  from  the  front  that  shall  tell  him  the th  were  there 

and  the  remnant  rescued.  Even  then,  he  knows,  he  and  his  long  Spring- 
fields  will  be  needed.  The  cavalry  can  fight  their  way  in  to  the  succor 
of  the  besieged,  but  once  there  will  be  themselves  surrounded  and  too 
few  in  numbers  to  begin  aggressive  movements.  He  and  his  will  in- 
deed be  welcome  reinforcements  ;  and  so  they  trudge  ahead. 

The  moon  is  up  and  it  is  nearly  ten  o'clock  when  high  up  on  the 
rolling  divide  the  springs  are  reached,  and,  barely  w^aiting  to  quench 
their  thirst  in  the  cooling  waters,  the  wearied  men  roll  themselves  in 
their  blankets  under  the  giant  trees,  and,  guarded  by  a  few  outlying 
pickets,  are  soon  asleep.  Most  of  the  officers  have  sprawled  around  a 
little  fire  and  are  burning  their  boot-leather  thereat.  The  colonel,  his 
adjutant,  and  the  doctor  are  curled  up  under  a  tent-fly  that  serves  by 
day  as  a  wrap  for  the  rations  and  cooking-kit  they  carry  on  pack-mule. 
Two  company  commanders, — the  Alpha  and  Omega  of  the  ten,  as 
Major  Sloat  dubbed  them, — the  senior  and  junior  in  rank,  Chester  and 
Armitage  by  name,  have  rolled  themselves  in  their  blankets  under  an- 
other tent-fly  and  are  chatting  in  low  tones  before  dropping  off  to  sleep. 
They  have  been  inseparable  on  the  journey  thus  far,  and  the  colonel 
has  had  two  or  three  long  talks  with  them ;  but  who  knows  what  the 
morrow  may  bring  forth  ?     There  is  still  much  to  settle. 

One  officer,  he  of  the  guard,  is  still  afoot,  and  trudging  about  among 
the  trees,  looking  after  his  sentries.  Another  officer,  also  alone,  is 
sitting  in  silence  smoking  a  pipe  :  it  is  Mr.  Jerrold. 

Cleared  though  he  is  of  the  charges  originally  brought  against  him 
in  the  minds  of  his  colonel  and  Captain  Chester,  he  has  lost  caste  with 
his  fellows  and  with  them.  Only  two  or  three  men  have  been  made 
aware  of  the  statement  which  acquitted  him,  but  every  one  knows  in- 
stinctively that  he  was  saved  by  Nina  Beaubien,  and  that  in  accepting 
his  release  at  her  hands  he  had  put  her  to  a  cruel  expense.  Every  man 
among  his  brother  officers  knows  in  some  way  that  he  has  been  ac- 
quitted of  having  compromised  Alice  Renwick's  fair  fame  only  by  an 
alibi  that  correspondingly  harmed  another.  The  fact  now  generally 
known,  that  they  were  betrothed,  and  that  the  engagement  was  openly 
announced,  made  no  difference.  Without  being  able  to  analyze  his 
conduct,  the  regiment  was  satisfied  that  it  had  been  selfish  and  con- 
temptible ;  and  that  was  enough  to  warrant  giving  him  the  cold  shoulder. 
He  was  quick  to  see  and  take  the  hint,  and,  in  bitter  distress  of  mind, 
to  withdraw  himself  from  their  companionship.  He  had  hoped  and 
expected  that  his  eagerness  to  go  with  them  on  the  wild  and  sudden 
campaign  would  reinstate  him  in  their  good  graces,  but  it  failed  utterly. 
"  Any  man  would  seek  that/'  was  the  verdict  of  the  informal  council 
held  by  the  officers.  "  He  would  have  been  a  poltroon  if  he  hadn't 
sought  to  go;  but,  while  he  isn't  a  poltroon,  he  has  done  a  contemptible 
thing."  And  so  it  stood.  Rollins  had  cut  him  dead,  refused  his  hand, 
and  denied  him  a  chance  to  explain.  *'  Tell  him  he  can't  explain,"  was 
the  savage  reply  he  sent  by  the  adjutant,  who  consented  to  carry  Jer- 
rold's  message  in  order  that  he  might  have  fair  play.  "  He  knows, 
Vol.  XL.— 56 


858  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

without  explanation,  the  wrong  he  has  done  to  more  than  one.  I  won't 
have  anything  to  do  with  him." 

Others  avoided  him,  and  only  coldly  spoke  to  him  when  speech  was 
necessary.  Chester  treated  him  with  marked  aversion ;  the  colonel 
would  not  look  at  him ;  only  Armitage — his  captain — liad  a  decent 
word  for  him  at  any  time,  and  even  he  was  stern  and  cold.  The  most 
envied  and  careless  of  the  entire  command,  the  Adonis,  the  beau,  the 
crack  shot,  the  graceful  leader  in  all  garrison  gayeties,  the  beautiful 
dancer,  rider,  tennis-player,  the  adored  of  so  many  sentimental  women 
at  Sibley,  poor  Jerrold  had  found  his  level,  and  his  proud  and  sensitive 
though  selfish  heart  was  breaking. 

Sitting  alone  under  the  trees,  he  had  taken  a  sheet  of  paper  from 
his  p'  jket-case  and  was  writing  by  the  light  of  the  rising  moon.  One 
letter  was  short  and  easily  written,  for  with  a  few  M^ords  he  had  brought 
it  to  a  close,  then  folded  and  in  a  bold  and  vigorous  hand  addressed  it. 
The  other  was  far  longer ;  and  over  this  one,  thinking  deeply,  erasing 
some  words  and  pondering  much  over  others,  he  spent  a  long  hour.  It 
was  nearly  midnight,  and  he  was  chilled  to  the  heart,  when  he  stiffly 
rose  and  took  his  way  among  the  blanketed  groups  to  the  camp-fire 
around  which  so  many  of  his  wearied  comrades  were  sleeping  the  sleep 
of  the  tired  soldier.  Here  he  tore  to  fragments  and  scattered  in  the 
embers  some  notes  and  letters  that  were  in  his  pockets.  They  blazed 
up  brightly,  and  by  the  glare  he  stood  one  moment  studying  young 
Rollins's  smooth  and  placid  features ;  then  he  looked  around  on  the 
unconscious  circle  of  bronzed  and  bearded  faces.  There  were  many 
types  of  soldier  there, — men  who  had  led  brigades  through  the  great 
war  and  gone  back  to  the  humble  bars  of  the  liue-oificer  at  its  close; 
men  who  had  led  fierce  charges  against  the  swarming  Indians  in  the 
rough  old  days  of  the  first  prairie  railways ;  men  who  had  won  dis- 
tinction and  honorable  mention  in  hard  and  trying  frontier  service ; 
men  who  had  their  faults  and  foibles  and  weaknesses  like  other  men, 
and  were  aggressive  or  compliant,  strong-willed  or  yielding,  overbearing 
or  meek,  as  are  their  brethren  in  other  walks  of  life ;  men  who  were 
simple  of  heart,  single  in  purpose  and  ambition,  diverse  in  character- 
istics, but  unanimous  in  one  trait, — no  meanness  could  live  among 
them ;  and  Jerrold's  heart  sank  within  him,  colder,  lower,  stonier  than 
before,  as  he  looked  from  face  to  face  and  cast  up  mentally  the  sum  of 
each  man's  character.  His  hospitality  had  been  boundless,  his  bounty 
lavish ;  one  and  all  they  had  eaten  of  his  loaf  and  drunk  of  his  cup ; 
but  was  there  among  them  one  who  could  say  of  him,  "  He  is  generous 
and  I  stand  his  friend"  ?  Was  there  one  of  them,  one  of  theirs,  for 
whom  he  had  ever  denied  himself  a  pleasure,  great  or  small  ?  He 
looked  at  poor  old  Gray,  with  his  wrinkled,  anxious  face,  and  thought 
of  his  distress  of  mind.  Only  a  few  thousands — not  three  years'  pay — 
had  the  veteran  scraped  and  saved  and  stored  away  for  his  little  girl, 
whose  heart  \vas  aching  with  its  first  cruel  sorrow, — kis  work,  his  un- 
doing, his  cursed,  selfish  greed  for  adulation,  his  reckless  love  of  love. 
The  morrow's  battle,  if  it  came,  might  leave  her  or])haned  and  alone, 
and,  poor  as  it  was,  a  father's  pitying  sympathy  could  not  be  her  help 
Avith  the  coming  year.     Would  Gray  mourn  him  if  the  fortune  of  war 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  859 

made  him  the  victim  ?  Would  any  one  of  those  averted  faces  look  with 
pity  and  regret  upon  his  stifiening  form  ?  Would  there  be  any  one  on 
earth  to  whom  his  death  would  be  a  sorrow,  but  Nina  ?  Would  it  even 
be  a  blow  to  her  ?  She  loved  him  wildly,  he  knew  that ;  but  would  she 
did  she  but  dream  the  truth  ?  He  knew  her  nature  well.  He  knew 
how  quickly  such  burning  love  could  turn  to  fiercest  hate  when  con- 
vinced that  the  object  was  utterly  untrue.  He  had  said  nothing  to  her 
of  the  photograph,  nothing  at  all  of  Alice  except  to  protest  time  and 
again  tliat  his  attentions  to  her  were  solely  to  win  the  good  will  of  the 
colonel's  family  and  of  the  colonel  himself,  so  that  he  might  be  proof 
against  the  machinations  of  his  foes.  And  yet  had  he  not,  that  very 
night  on  which  he  crossed  the  stream  and  let  her  peril  her  name  and 
honor  for  one  stolen  interview — had  he  not  gone  to  her  exultant  wel- 
come with  a  traitorous  knowledge  gnawing  at  his  heart?  That  very 
night,  before  they  parted  at  the  colonel's  door  had  he  not  lied  to  Alice 
Kenwick  ? — had  he  not  denied  the  story  of  his  devotion  to  Miss  Beau- 
bien,  and  was  not  his  practised  eye  watching  eagerly  the  beautiful  dark 
face  for  one  sign  that  the  news  was  welcome,  and  so  precipitate  the 
avowal  trembling  on  his  lips  that  it  was  her  he  madly  loved, — not 
Nina?  Though  she  hurriedly  bade  him  good-night,  though  she  was 
unprepared  for  any  such  announcement,  he  well  knew  that  Alice  Ren- 
wick's  heart  fluttered  at  the  earnestness  of  his  manner,  and  that  he  had 
indicated  far  more  than  he  had  said.  Fear — not  love — had  drawn  him 
to  Nina  Beaubien  that  night,  and  hope  had  centred  on  her  more  beau- 
tiful rival,  when  the  discoveries  of  the  night  involved  liim  in  the  first 
trembling  symptoms  of  the  downfall  to  come.  And  he  was  to  have 
spent  the  morning  with  her,  the  woman  to  whom  he  had  lied  in  word, 
while  she  to  whom  he  had  lied  in  word  and  deed  was  going  from  him, 
not  to  return  until  the  german,  and  even  then  he  planned  treachery. 
He  meant  to  lead  with  Alice  Ren  wick  and  claim  that  it  must  be  "^vith 
the  colonel's  daughter  because  the  ladies  of  the  garrison  were  the  givers. 
Then,  he  knew,  Nina  would  not  come  at  all,  and,  possibly,  might  quarrel 
with  him  on  that  ground.  What  could  have  been  an  easier  solution  of 
his  troublous  predicament  ?  She  would  break  their  secret  engagement ; 
he  would  refuse  all  reconciliation,  and  be  free  to  devote  himself  to  Alice. 
But  all  these  grave  complications  had  arisen.  Alice  would  not  come. 
Nina  wrote  demanding  that  he  should  lead  with  her,  and  that  he  should 
meet  her  at  St.  Croix;  and  then  came  the  crash.  He  owed  his  safety 
to  her  self-sacrifice,  and  now  must  give  up  all  hope  of  Alice  Renwick. 
He  had  accepted  the  announcement  of  their  engagement.  He  could 
not  do  less,  after  all  that  had  happened  and  the  painful  scene  at  their 
parting.  And  yet  would  it  not  be  a  blessing  to  her  if  he  were  killed  ? 
Even  now  in  his  self-abnegation  and  misery  he  did  not  fully  realize 
how  mean  he  was, — how  mean  he  seemed  to  others.  He  resented  in 
his  heart  what  Sloat  had  said  of  him  but  the  day  before,  little  caring 
whether  he  heard  it  or  not :  "  It  would  be  a  mercy  to  that  poor  girl  if 
Jerrold  were  killed.  He  will  break  her  heart  with  neglect,  or  drive 
her  mad  with  jealousy,  inside  of  a  year."  But  the  regiment  seemed  to 
agree  with  Sloat. 

And  so  in  all  that  little  band  of  comrades  he  could  call  no  man 


860  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

friend.  One  after  another  he  looked  upon  the  unconscious  faces,  cold 
and  averted  in  the  oblivion  of  sleep,  but  not  more  cold,  not  more  dis- 
trustful, than  when  he  had  vainly  sought  among  them  one  relenting 
glance  in  the  early  moonlight  that  battle  eve  in  bivouac.  He  threw 
his  arms  upward,  shook  his  head  with  hopeless  gesture,  then  buried  his 
face  in  the  sleeves  of  his  rough  campaign  overcoat  and  strode  blindly 
from  their  midst. 

Early  in  the  morning,  an  hour  before  daybreak,  the  shivering  out- 
post crouching  in  a  hollow  to  the  southward  catch  sight  of  two  dim 
figures  shooting  suddenly  up  over  a  distant  ridge, — horsemen,  they 
know  at  a  glance, — and  these  two  come  loping  down  the  moonlit  ti'ail 
over  which  two  nights  before  had  marched  the  cavalry  speeding  to  the 
rescue,  over  which  in  an  hour  the  regiment  itself  must  be  on  the  move. 
Old  campaigners  are  two  of  the  picket,  and  they  have  been  especially 
cautioned  to  be  on  the  lookout  for  couriers  coming  back  along  the  trail. 
They  spring  to  their  feet,  in  readiness  to  welcome  or  repel,  as  the  sentry 
rings  out  his  sharp  and  sudden  challenge. 

"  Couriers  from  the  corral,"  is  the  jubilant  answer.  "  This  Colonel 
Maynard's  outfit  ?" 

"  Ay,  ay,  sonny,"  is  the  unmilitary  but  characteristic  answer. 
"  What's  your  news  ?" 

"  Got  tliere  in  time,  and  saved  what's  left  of  'em ;  but  it's  a  hell- 
hole, and  you  fellows  are  wanted  quick  as  you  can  come, — thirty  mile?. 
ahead.     Where's  the  colonel  ?" 

The  corporal  of  the  guard  goes  back  to  the  bivouac,  leading  the 
two  arrivals.  One  is  a  scout,  a  plainsman  born  and  bred,  the  other  a 
sergeant  of  cavalry.  They  dismount  in  the  timber  and  picket  their 
horses,  then  follow  on  foot  the  lead  of  their  companion  of  the  guard. 
While  the  corporal  and  the  scout  proceed  to  the  wagon-fly  and  fumble 
at  the  opening,  the  tall  sergeant  stands  silently  a  little  distance  in  their 
rear,  and  the  occupants  of  a  neighboring  shelter — the  counterpart  of 
the  colonel's — begin  to  stir,  as  though  their  light  slumber  had  been 
broken  by  the  smothered  sound  of  footsteps.  One  of  them  sits  up  and 
peers  out  at  the  front,  gazing  earnestly  at  the  tall  figure  standing  easily 
there  in  the  flickering  light.     Tlien  he  hails  in  low  tones  : 

"  That  you,  Mr.  Jerrold  ?     What  is  the  matter  ?" 

And  the  tall  figure  faces  promptly  towards  the  hailing  voice.  The 
spurred  heels  come  together  with  a  click,  the  gauntleted  hand  rises  in 
soldierly  salute  to  the  broad  brim  of  the  scouting-hat,  and  a  deep  voice 
answers,  respectfully, — 

"  It  is  not  Mr.  Jerrold,  sir.    It  is  Sergeant  McLeod, th  Cavalry, 

just  in  with  despatches." 

Armitage  springs  to  his  feet,  sheds  his  shell  of  blankets,  and  steps 
forth  into  the  glade  with  his  eyes  fixed  eagerly  on  the  shadowy  form  in 
front.  He  peers  under  the  broad  brim,  as  though  striving  to  see  the 
eyes  and  features  of  tl\e  tall  dragoon. 

"Did  you  get  there  in  time?"  he  asks,  half  wondering  whether 
that  was  really  the  question  uppermost  in  his  mind. 

"In  time  to  save  the  survivors,  sir;  but  no  attack  will  be  made 
until  the  infantry  get  there." 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  861 

"  Were  you  not  at  Sibley  last  month  ?"  asks  the  captain,  quickly. 

"  Yes,  sir, — with  the  competitors." 

"You  went  back  before  your  regimental  team,  did  you  not?" 

"  I No,  sir :  I  went  back  with  them." 

"  You  were  relieved  from  duty  at  Sibley  and  ordered  back  before 
them,  were  you  not?" 

Even  in  the  pallid  light  Armitage  could  see  the  hesitation,  the  flurry 
of  surprise  and  distress,  in  the  sergeant's  face. 

"  Don't  fear  to  tell  me,  man  :  I  would  rather  hear  it  than  any 
news  you  could  give  me.  I  would  rather  know  you  were  not  Sergeant 
McLeod  than  any  fact  you  could  tell.  Speiik  low,  man,  but  tell  me 
here  and  now.  Whatever  motive  you  may  have  had  for  this  disguise, 
whatever  anger  or  sorrows  in  the  past,  you  must  sink  them  now  to  save 
the  honor  of  the  woman  your  madness  has  perilled.  Answer  me,  for 
your  sister's  sake  :  are  you  not  Fred  Renwick?" 

"  Do  you  swear  to  me  she  is  in  danger  ?" 

"  By  all  that's  sacred  ;  and  you  ouglit  to  know  it." 

"  I  am  Fred  Renwick.     Now  what  can  I  do  ?" 

XVIII. 

The  sun  is  not  an  hour  high,  but  the  bivouac  at  the  springs  is  far 
behind.  With  advance-guard  and  flankers  well  out,  the  regiment  is 
tramping  its  way,  full  of  eagerness  and  spirit.  The  men  ciui  hardly 
refrain  from  bursting  into  song,  but,  although  at  "  route  step,"  the  fact 
that  Indian  scouts  have  already  been  sighted  scurrying  from  bluif  to  blufi* 
is  sufficient  to  warn  all  hands  to  be  silent  and  alert.  Wilton  with  his 
company  is  on  the  dangerous  flank,  and  guards  it  well.  Armitage  with 
Company  B  covers  the  advance,  and  his  men  are  strung  out  in  long 
skirmish-line  across  the  trail  wherever  the  ground  is  sufficiently  open 
to  admit  of  deployment.  Where  it  is  not,  they  spring  ahead  and  ex- 
plore every  point  where  Indian  may  lurk,  and  render  ambuscade  of 
the  main  column  impossible.  With  Armitage  is  McLeod,  the  cavalry 
sergeant  who  made  the  night  ride  with  the  scout  who  boi'e  the  de- 
spatches. The  scout  has  galloped  on  towards  the  railway  with  news  of 
the  rescue,  the  sergeant  guides  the  infantry  reinforcement.  Observant 
men  have  noted  that  Armitage  and  the  sergeant  have  had  a  vast  deal 
to  say  to  each  other  during  the  chill  hours  of  the  early  morn.  Others 
have  noted  that  at  the  first  brief  halt  the  captain  rode  back,  called 
Colonel  Maynard  to  one  side,  and  spoke  to  him  in  low  tones.  The 
colonel  was  seen  to  start  with  astonishment.  Then  he  said  a  few  words 
to  his  second  in  command,  and  rode  forward  with  Armitage  to  join  the 
advance.  When  the  regiment  moved  on  again  and  the  head  of  column 
hove  in  sight  of  the  skirmishers,  they  saw  that  the  colonel,  Armitage, 
and  the  sergeant  of  cavalry  were  riding  side  by  side,  and  that  the  officers 
were  paying  close  attention  to  all  the  dragoon  was  saying.  All  were 
eager  to  hear  the  particulars  of  the  condition  of  affiiirs  at  the  corral, 
and  all  were  disposed  to  be  envious  of  the  mounted  captain  who  could 
ride  alongside  the  one  participant  in  the  rescuing  charge  and  get  it  all 
at  first  hand.     The  field-officers,  of  course,  were  mounted,  but  every 


862  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

line-officer  marched  afoot  with  his  men,  except  that  three  horses  had 
been  picked  up  at  the  railway  and  impressed  by  the  quartermaster  in 
case  of  need,  and  these  were  assigned  to  the  captains  who  happened  to 
command  the  skirmishers  and  flankers. 

But  no  man  had  the  faintest  idea  what  manner  of  story  that  tall 
sergeant  was  telling.  It  would  have  been  of  interest  to  every  soldier 
in  the  command,  but  to  no  one  so  much  so  as  to  the  two  who  were  his 
absorbed  listeners.  Armitage,  before  their  early  march,  had  frankly 
and  briefly  set  before  him  his  suspicions  as  to  the  case,  and  the  trouble 
in  which  Miss  Renwick  was  involved.  No  time  was  to  be  lost.  Any 
moment  might  find  them  plunged  in  fierce  battle;  and  who  could  fore- 
tell the  results? — who  could  say  what  might  happen  to  prevent  this 
her  vindication  ever  reaching  the  ears  of  her  accusers  ?  Some  men 
wondered  why  it  was  that  Colonel  Maynard  sent  his  compliments  to 
Captain  Chester  and  begged  that  at  the  next  halt  he  would  join  him. 
The  halt  did  not  come  for  a  long  hour,  and  when  it  did  come  it  was 
very  brief,  but  Chester  received  another  message,  and  went  forward  to 
find  his  colonel  sitting  in  a  little  grove  with  the  cavalryman,  while 
the  orderly  held  their  horses  a  short  space  away.  Armitage  had  gone 
forward  to  his  advance,  and  Chester  showed  no  surprise  at  the  sight 
of  the  sergeant  seated  side  by  side  -with  the  colonel  and  in  confidential 
converse  with  him.  There  was  a  quaint,  sly  twinkle  in  Maynard's 
eyes  as  he  greeted  his  old  friend. 

"  Chester,"  said  he,  "  I  want  you  to  be  better  acquainted  with  my 
step-son,  Mr,  Renwick.     He  has  an  apology  to  make  to  you." 

The  tall  soldier  had  risen  the  instant  he  caught  sight  of  the  new- 
comer, and  even  at  the  half-playful  tone  of  the  colonel  would  relax  in 
no  degree  his  soldierly  sense  of  the  proprieties.  He  stood  erect  and  held 
4is  hand  at  the  salute,  only  very  slowly  lowering  it  to  take  the  one 
so  frankly  extended  him  by  the  captain,  who,  however,  was  grave  and 
quiet. 

"  I  have  suspected  as  much  since  daybreak,"  he  said ;  "  and  no 
man  is  gladder  to  know  it  is  you  than  I  am." 

"You  would  have  known  it  before,  sir,  had  I  had  the  faintest' idea 
of  the  danger  in  Avhich  my  foolhardiness  had  involved  my  sister.  The 
colonel  has  told  you  of  my  story.  I  have  told  him  and  Captain 
Armitage  what  led  to  my  mad  freak  at  Sibley ;  and,  while  I  have 
much  to  make  amends  for,  I  want  to  apologize  for  the  blow  I  gave 
you  that  night  on  the  terrace.  I  was  far  more  scared  than  you  were, 
sir." 

"  I  think  we  can  afford  to  forgive  him,  Chester.  He  knocked  us 
both  out,"  said  the  colonel. 

Chester  bowed  gravely.  "  That  was  the  easiest  part  of  the  affair 
to  forgive,"  he  said,  "and  it  is  hardly  for  me,  I  presume,  to  be  the 
only  one  to  blame  the  sergeant  for  the  trouble  that  has  involved  us 
all,  especially  your  household,  colonel." 

"  It  was  expensive  masquerading,  to  say  the  least,"  re])licd  the  colo- 
nel ;  "  but  he  never  realized  the  consequences  until  Armitage  told  him 
to-day.  You  must  hear  his  story  in  brief,  Chester.  It  is  needful  that 
three  or  four  of  us  know  it,  so  that  some  may  be  left  to  set  things  right 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  863 

at  Sibley.  God  grant  us  all  safe  return  !"  he  added,  piously,  and  with 
deep  emotion.  "  I  can  far  better  appreciate  our  home  and  happiness 
than  I  could  a  month  ago.  Now,  Renwick,  tell  the  captain  what  you 
have  told  us." 

And  briefly  it  was  told  :  how  in  his  youthful  fury  he  had  sworn 
never  again  to  set  foot  within  the  door  of  the  father  and  mother  who  had 
so  wronged  the  poor  girl  he  loved  with  boyish  fervor ;  how  he  called 
down  the  vengeance  of  heaven  upon  them  in  his  frenzy  and  distress ; 
how  he  had  sworn  never  again  to  set  eyes  on  their  faces.  "  May  God 
strike  me  dead  if  ever  I  return  to  this  roof  until  she  is  avenged  ! 
May  He  deal  with  you  as  you  have  dealt  with  her  !"  was  the  curse  that 
flew  from  his  wild  lips,  and  with  that  he  left  them,  stunned.  He  went 
West,  was  soon  penniless,  and,  caring  not  what  he  did,  seeking  change, 
adventure,  anything  to  take  him  out  of  his  past,  he  enlisted  in  the 

cavalry,  and  was  speedily  drafted  to  the th,  which  was  just  starting 

forth  on  a  stirring  summer  campaign.  He  was  a  fine  horseman,  a  fine 
shot,  a  man  who  instantly  attracted  the  notice  of  his  officers  :  the  cam- 
paign was  full  of  danger,  adventure,  rapid  and  constant  marching,  and 
before  he  knew  it  or  dreamed  it  possible  he  had  become  deeply  in- 
terested in  his  new  life.  Only  in  the  monotony  of  a  month  or  two  in 
garrison  that  winter  did  the  service  seem  intolerable.  His  comrades 
were  rough,  in  the  main,  but  tlioroughly  good-hearted,  and  he  soon 
won  their  esteem.  The  spring  sent  them  again  into  the  field  ;  another 
stirring  campaign,  and  here  he  won  his  stripes,  and  words  of  praise 
from  the  lips  of  a  veteran  general  officer,  as  well  as  the  promise  of 
future  reward ;  and  then  the  love  of  soldierly  deeds  and  the  thirst  for 
soldierly  renown  took  firm  hold  in  his  breast.  He  began  to  turn  towards 
the  mother  and  father  who  had  been  wrapped  up  in  his  future, — who 
loved  him  so  devotedly.  He  was  forgetting  his  early  and  passionate 
love,  and  the  bitter  sorrow  of  her  death  was  losing  fast  its  poignant 
power  to  steel  him  against  his  kindred.     He  knew  they  could  not  but 

be  proud  of  the  record  he  had  made  in  the  ranks  of  the  gallant th, 

and  then  he  shrank  and  shivered  when  he  recalled  the  dreadful  words 
of  his  curse.  He  had  made  up  his  mind  to  write,  implore  pardon  for 
his  hideous  and  unfilial  language,  and  invoke  their  interest  in  his 
career,  when,  returning  to  Fort  Kaiues  for  supplies,  he  picked  up  a 
New  York  paper  in  the  reading-room  and  read  the  announcement  of 
his  father's  death,  "  whose  health  had  been  broken  ever  since  the  dis- 
appearance of  his  only  son,  two  years  before."  The  memory  of  his 
malediction  had,  indeed,  come  home  to  him,  and  he  fell,  stricken  by  a 
sudden  and  unaccountable  blow.  It  seemed  as  though  his  heart  had 
given  one  wild  leap,  then  stopped  forever.  Things  did  not  go  so  well 
afler  this.  He  brooded  over  his  words,  and  believed  that  an  avenging 
God  had  launched  the  bolt  that  killed  the  father  as  punishment  to  the 
stubborn  and  recreant  son.  He  then  bethought  him  of  his  mother,  of 
pretty  Alice,  who  had  loved  him  so  as  a  little  girl.  He  could  not 
bring  himself  to  write,  but  through  inquiries  he  learned  that  the  house 
was  closed  and  that  they  had  gone  abroad.  He  plodded  on  in  his  duties 
a  trying  year  :  then  came  more  lively  field-work  and  reviving  interest. 
He  was  forgetting  entirely  the  sting  of  his  first  great  sorrow,  and 


864  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

mourning  gravely  the  gulf  he  had  placed  'twixt  him  and  his.  He 
thought  time  and  again  of  his  cruel  words,  and  something  began  to 
whisper  to  him  he  must  see  that  mother  again  at  once,  kiss  her  hand, 
and  implore  her  forgiveness,  or  she,  too,  would  be  stricken  suddenly. 
He  saved  up  his  money,  hoping  that  after  the  summer's  rifle-work  at 
Sibley  he  might  get  a  furlough  and  go  East ;  and  the  night  he  arrived 
at  the  fort,  tired  with  his  long  railway-journey  and  panting  after  a  long 
and  difficult  climb  up-hill,  his  mother's  face  swam  suddenly  before  his 
eyes,  and  he  felt  himself  going  down.  When  they  brought  him  to, 
he  heard  that  the  ladies  were  Mrs.  Maynard  and  her  daughter  Miss 
Renwick, — his  own  mother,  remarried,  his  own  Alice,  a  grown  young 
woman.  This  was,  indeed,  news  to  put  him  in  a  flutter  and  spoil  his 
shooting.  He  realized  at  once  that  the  gulf  was  wider  than  ever. 
How  could  he  go  to  her  now,  the  wife  of  a  colonel,  and  he  an  enlisted 
man?  Like  other  soldiers,  he  forgot  that  the  line  of  demarcation  was 
one  of  discipline,  not  of  sympatliy.  He  did  not  realize  what  any 
soldier  among  his  officers  would  gladly  have  told  him,  that  he  was 
most  worthy  to  reveal  himself  now, — a  non-commissioned  officer  whose 
record  was  an  honor  to  himself  and  to  his  regiment,  a  soldier  of  whom 
officers  and  comrades  alike  were  proud.  He  never  dreamed — indeed, 
how  few  there  are  who  do ! — that  a  man  of  his  character,  standing, 
and  ability  is  honored  and  respected  by  the  very  men  whom  the  cus- 
toms of  the  service  require  him  to  speak  with  only  when  spoken  to. 
He  supposed  that  x)nly  as  Fred  Ren  wick  could  he  extend  his  hand  to 
one  of  their  number,  whereas  it  was  under  his  soldier  name  he  won 
their  trust  and  admiration,  and  it  was  as  Sergeant  McLeod  the  officers 

of  the th  were  backing  him  for  a  commission  that  would  make  him 

what  they  deemed  him  fit  to  be, — their  equal.  Unable  to  penetrate  the 
armor  of  reserve  and  discipline  which  separates  the  officer  from  the 
rank  and  file,  he  never  imagined  that  the  colonel  would  have  been  the 
first  to  welcome  him  had  he  known  the  truth.  He  believed  that  now 
his  last  chance  of  seeing  his  mother  was  gone  until  that  coveted  com- 
mission was  won.  Then  came  another  blow  :  the  doctor  told  him  that 
with  his  heart-trouble  he  could  never  pass  the  physical  examination : 
he  could  not  hope  for  preferment,  then,  and  must  see  her  as  he  was,  and 
see  her  secretly  and  alone.  Then  came  blow  after  blow.  His  shooting 
had  failed,  so  had  that  of  others  of  his  regiment,  and  he  was  ordered 
to  return  in  charge  of  the  party  early  on  the  morrow.  The  order 
reached  him  late  in  the  evening,  and  before  breakfast-time  on  the  fol- 
lowing day  he  was  directed  to  start  with  his  party  for  town,  thence  by 
rail  to  his  distant  post.  That  night,  in  desperation,  he  made  his  plan. 
Twice  before  he  had  strolled  down  to  the  post  and  with  yearning  eyes 
had  studied  every  feature  of  the  colonel's  house.  He  dared  ask  no 
questions  of  servants  or  of  the  men  in  garrison,  but  he  learned  enough 
to  know  which  rooms  were  theirs,  and  he  had  noted  that  the  windows 
were  always  open.  If  he  could  only  see  their  loved  faces,  kneel  and 
kiss  his  mother's  hand,  pray  God  to  forgive  him,  he  could  go  away 
believing  that  he  had  undijne  the  spell  and  revoked  the  malediction 
of  his  early  youth.  It  was  hazardous,  but  worth  the  danger.  He 
could  go  in  peace  and  sin  no  more  towards  mother,  at  least ;  and  then 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  865 

if  she  mourned  and  missed  him,  could  he  not  find  it  out  some  day  and 
make  himself  known  to  her  after  his  discharge  ?  He  slipped  out  of 
camp,  leaving  his  boots  behind,  and  wearing  his  light  Apache  moccasins 
and  flannel  shirt  and  trousers.  Danger  to  himself  he  had  no  great 
fear  of.  If  by  any  chance  mother  or  sister  should  wake,  he  had  but 
to  stretch  forth  his  hand  and  say,  "  It  is  only  I, — Fred."  Danger  to 
thefni  he  never  dreamed  of. 

Strong  and  athletic,  despite  his  slender  frame,  he  easily  lifted  the 
ladder  from  Jerrold's  fence,  and,  dodging  the  sentry  when  he  spied  him 
at  the  gate,  finally  took  it  down  back  of  the  colonel's  and  raised  it  to  a 
rear  window.  By  the  strangest  chance  the  window  was  closed,  and  he 
could  not  budge  it.  Then  he  heard  the  challenge  of  a  sentry  around 
on  the  east  front,  and  had  just  time  to  slip  down  and  lower  the  ladder 
when  he  heard  the  rattle  of  a  sword  and  knew  it  must  be  the  officer 
of  the  day.  There  was  no  time  to  carry  oif  the  ladder.  He  left  it 
lying  where  it  was,  and  sprang  down  the  steps  towards  the  station. 
Soon  he  heard  Number  Five  challenge,  and  knew  the  officer  had  passed 
on  :  he  waited  some  time,  but  nothing  occurred  to  indicate  that  the 
ladder  was  discovered,  and  then,  plucking  up  courage  and  with  a  mut- 
tered prayer  for  guidance  and  protection,  he  stole  up-hill  again,  raised 
the  ladder  to  the  Avest  wall,  noiselessly  ascended,  peered  in  Alice's  win- 
dow and  could  see  a  faint  night-light  burning  in  the  hall  beyond,  but 
that  all  was  darkness  there,  stole  around  on  the  roof  of  the  piazza  to 
the  hall  window,  stepped  noiselessly  upon  the  sill,  climbed  over  the 
lowered  sash,  and  found  himself  midway  between  the  rooms.  He 
could  hear  the  colonel's  placid  snoring  and  the  regular  breathing  of  the 
other  sleepers.  No  time  was  to  be  lost.  Shading  the  little  niglit-lamp 
with  one  hand,  he  entered  the  open  door,  stole  to  the  bedside,  took  one 
long  look  at  his  mother's  face,  knelt,  breathed  upon,  but  barely  brushed 
with  his  trembling  lips,  the  queenly  white  hand  that  lay  upon  the  cov- 
erlet, poured  forth  one  brief  prayer  to  God  for  protection  and  blessing 
for  her  and  forgiveness  for  him,  retraced  his  steps,  and  caught  sight  of 
the  lovely  picture  of  Alice  in  the  Directoire  costume.  He  longed  for  it 
and  could  not  resist.  She  had  grown  so  beautiful,  so  exquisite.  He 
took  it,  frame  and  all,  carried  it  into  her  room,  slipped  the  card  from 
its  place  and  hid  it  inside  the  breast  of  his  shirt,  stowed  the  frame  away 
behind  her  sofa-pillo\\',  theit  looked  long  at  the  lovely  picture  she  her- 
self made,  lying  there  sleeping  sweetly  and  peacefully  amid  the  white 
drapings  of  her  dainty  bed.  Then  'twas  time  to  go.  He  put  the  lamp 
back  in  the  hall,  passed  through  her  room,  out  at  her  window,  and 
down  the  ladder,  and  had  it  well  on  the  way  back  to  the  hooks  on 
Jerrold's  fence  when  seized  and  challenged  by  the  officer  of  the  day. 
Mad  terror  possessed  him  then.  He  struck  blindly,  dashed  off"  in 
panicky  flight,  paid  no  heed  to  sentry's  cry  or  whistling  missile,  but 
tore  like  a  racer  up  the  path  and  never  slackened  speed  till  Sibley  was 
far  behind. 

When  morning  came,  the  order  that  they  should  go  was  temporarily 
suspended  :  some  prisoners  were  sent  to  a  neighboring  military  prison, 
and  he  was  placed  in  charge,  and  on  his  return  from  this  duty  learned 
that  the  colonel's  family  had  gone  to  Sablon.     The  next  thing  there 


866  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

was  some  strange  talk  that  worried  him, — a  story  that  one  of  the  men 
who  had  a  sweetheart  who  was  second  girl  at  Mrs.  Hoyt's  brought  out 
to  camp, — a  story  that  there  was  an  officer  who  was  too  much  in  love 
with  Alice  to  keep  away  from  the  house  even  after  the  colonel  so 
ordered,  and  that  he  was  prowling  around  the  other  night  and  the 
colonel  ordered  Leary  to  shoot  him, — Leary,  who  was  on  post  on 
Number  Five.  He  felt  sure  that  something  was  wrong, — felt  sure  that 
it  was  due  to  his  night  visit, — and  his  first  impulse  was  to  find  his 
mother  and  confide  the  truth  to  her.  He  longed  to  see  her  again,  and, 
if  harm  had  been  done,  to  make  himself  known  and  explain  everything. 
Having  no  duties  to  detain  him,  he  got  a  pass  to  visit  town  and  permis- 
sion to  be  gone  a  day  or  more.  On  Saturday  evening  he  ran  down  to 
Sablon,  drove  over,  as  Captain  Armitage  had  already  told  them,  and, 
peering  in  his  mother's  room,  saw  her,  still  up,  though  in  her  night- 
dress. He  never  dreamed  of  the  colonel's  being  out  and  watching. 
He  had  "  scouted"  all  those  trees,  and  no  one  was  nigh.  Then  he 
softly  called  ;  she  heard,  and  was  coming  to  him,  when  again  came  fierce 
attack :  he  had  all  a  soldier's  reverence  for  the  person  of  the  colonel, 
and  would  never  have  harmed  him  had  he  known  'twas  he :  it  was  the 
night  watchman  that  had  grappled  wdth  him,  he  supposed,  and  he  had 
no  compunctions  in  sending  him  to  grass.  Then  he  fied  again,  knowjng 
that  he  had  only  made  bad  worse,  walked  all  that  night  to  the  station 
next  north  of  Sablon, — a  big  town  where  the  early  morning  train 
always  stopped, — and  by  ten  on  Sunday  morning  he  was  in  uniform 
again  and  off  with  his  regimental  comrades  under  orders  to  haste 
to  their  station, — there  was  trouble  with  the  Indians  at  Spirit  Rock 

and  the th  were  held  in  readiness.     From  beneath  his  scouting- 

shirt  he  drew  a  flat  packet,  an  Indian  case,  which  he  carefully  un- 
rolled, and  there  in  its  folds  of  wrappings  was  the  lovely  Directoire 
photograph. 

Whose,  then,  w^as  the  one  tliat  Sloat  had  seen  in  Jerrold's  room  ? 
It  was  this  that  Armitage  had  gone  forward  to  determine,  and  he  found 
his  sad-eyed  lieutenant  with  the  skirmishers. 

"  Jerrold,"  said  he,  with  softened  manner,  "  a  strange  thing  is 
brought  to  light  this  morning,  and  I  lose  no  time  in  telling  you.  The 
man  who  was  seen  at  Maynard's  quarters,  coming  from  Miss  Renwick's 
room,  was  her  own  brother  and  the  colonel's  step-son.  He  was  the 
man  who  took  the  photograph  from  Mrs.  Maynard's  room,  and  has 
proved  it  this  very  day, — this  very  hour."  Jerrold  glanced  up  in 
sudden  surprise.  "  He  is  with  us  now,  and  only  one  thing  remains, 
which  you  can  clear  up.  We  are  going  into  action,  and  I  may  not  get 
through,  nor  you,  nor — who  knows  wlio  ?  Will  you  tell  us  now  how 
you  came  by  your  copy  of  that  photograph  ?" 

For  answer  Jerrold  fumbled  in  his  pocket  a  moment  and  drew  forth 
two  letters: 

"  I  wrote  these  last  night,  and  it  was  my  intention  to  see  that  you 
had  them  before  it  grew  very  hot.  One  is  addressed  to  you,  ih^  other 
to  Miss  Beaubien.  You  had  l)etter  take  them  now,"  he  said,  wearily. 
"  There  may  be  no  time  to  talk  after  this.  Send  hers  after  it's  over, 
and  don't  read  yours  until  then." 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  867 

"  Why,  I  don't  understand  this,  exactly,"  said  Armitage,  puzzled. 
"  Can't  you  tell  me  about  the  j)icture  ?" 

"  No.  I  promised  not  to  while  I  lived ;  but  it's  the  simplest  matter 
in  the  world,  and  no  one  at  the  colonel's  had  any  hand  in  it.  They 
never  saw  this  one  that  I  got  to  show  Sloat.  It  is  burned  now.  I 
said  'twas  given  me.  That  was  hardly  the  truth.  I  have  paid  for  it 
dearly  enough." 
•    "  And  this  note  explains  it  ?" 

"  Yes.     You  can  read  it  to-morrow."  ' 


XIX. 

And  the  morrow  has  come.  Down  in  a  deep  and  bluff-shadowed 
valley,  hung  all  around  with  picturesque  crags  and  pine-crested  heights, 
under  a  cloudless  September  sun  whose  warmth  is  tempered  by  the 
mountain-breeze,  a  thousand  rough-looking,  bronzed  and  bearded  and 
powder-blackened  men  are  resting  after  battle. 

Here  and  there  on  distant  ridge  and  point  the  cavalry  vedettes  keep 
vigilant  watch  against  surprise  or  renewed  attack.  Down  along  the 
banks  of  a  clear,  purling  stream  a  sentry  paces  slowly  by  the  brown 
line  of  rifles,  swivel-stacked  in  the  sunshine.  Men  by  the  dozen  are 
washing  their  blistered  feet  and  grimy  hands  and  faces  in  the  cool,  re- 
freshing water ;  men  by  the  dozen  lie  soundly  sleeping,  some  in  the 
broad  glare,  some  in  the  shade  of  the  little  clump  of  willows,  all  heed- 
lass  of  the  pestering  swarms  of  flies.  Out  on  the  broad,  grassy  slopes, 
side-lined  and  watched  by  keen-eyed  guards,  the  herds  of  cavalry  horses 
are  quietly  grazing,  forgetful  of  the  wild  excitement  of  yester-even. 
Every  now  and  then  some  one  of  them  lifts  his  head,  pricks  up  his 
ears,  and  snorts  and  stamps  suspiciously  as  he  sniffs  at  the  puffs  of 
smoke  that  come  drifting  up  the  valley  from  the  fires  a  mile  away. 
The  waking  men,  too,  bestow  an  occasional  comment  on  the  odor  which 
greets  their  nostrils.  Down-stream  where  the  fires  are  burning  are 
the  blackened  remnants  of  a  wagon-train :  tires,  bolts,  and  axles  are 
lying  about,  but  all  wood- work  is  in  smouldering  ashes ;  so,  too,  is  all 
that  remains  of  several  hundred-weight  of  stores  and  supplies  destined 
originally  to  nourish  the  Indians,  but,  by  them,  diverted  to  feed  the 
fire. 

There  is  a  big  circle  of  seething  flame  and  rolling  smoke  here,  too, 
— a  malodorous  neighborhood,  around  which  fatigue-parties  are  work- 
ing with  averted  heads ;  and  among  them  some  surly  and  unwilling 
Indians,  driven  to  labor  at  the  muzzle  of  threatening  revolver  or  car- 
bine, aid  in  dragging  to  the  flames  carcass  after  carcass  of  horse  and 
mule,  and  in  gathering  together  and  throwing  on  the  pyre  an  array  of 
miscellaneous  soldier  garments,  blouses,  shirts,  and  trousers,  all  more 
or  less  hacked  and  blood-stained, — all  of  no  more  use  to  mortal  wearer. 

Out  on  the  southern  slopes,  just  where  a  ravine  crowded  with  wild- 
rose  bushes  opens  into  the  valley,  more  than  half  the  command  is  gath- 
ered, formed  in  rectangular  lines  about  a  number  of  shallow,  elongated 
pits,  in  each  of  which  there  lies  the  stiffening  form  of  a  comrade  who 
but  yesterday  joined  in  the  battle- cheer  that  bui'st  upon  the  valley  with 


FROM  THE  RANKS. 

the  setting  sun.  Silent  and  reverent  they  stand  in  their  rough  cam- 
paign garb.  The  escort  of  infantry  "  rests  on  arms ;"  the  others  bow 
their  uncovered  heads,  and  it  is  the  voice  of  the  veteran  colonel  that, 
in  accents  trembling  with  sympathy  and  emotion,  renders  the  last 
tribute  to  fallen  comrades  and  lifts  to  heaven  the  prayers  for  the  dead. 
Then  see  !  The  mourning  groups  break  away  from  the  southern  side ; 
the  brown  rifles  of  the  escort  are  lifted  in  air ;  the  listening  rocks 
resound  to  the  sudden  ring  of  the  flashing  volley ;  the  soft,  low, 
wailing  good-by  of  the  trumpets  goes  floating  up  the  vale,  and  soon 
the  burial-parties  are  left  alone  to  cover  the  once  familiar  faces  with 
the  earth  to  which  the  soldier  must  return,  and  the  comrades  who  are 
left,  foot  and  dragoon,  come  marching,  silent,  back  to  camp. 

And  when  the  old  regiment  begins  its  homeward  journey,  leaving 
the  well-won  field  to  the  fast-arriving  commands  and  bidding  hearty 
soldier  farewell  to  the  cavalry  comrades  whose  friendship  they  gained 
in  the  front  of  a  savage  foe,  the  company  that  was  the  first  to  land  its 
fire  in  the  fight  goes  back  with  diminished  numbers  and  under  com- 
mand of  its  second  lieutenant.     Alas,  poor  Jerrold  ! 

There  is  a  solemn  little  group  around  the  camp-fire  the  night  before 
they  go.  Frank  Armitage,  flat  on  his  back,  with  a  rifle-bullet  through 
his  thigh,  but  taking  things  very  coolly  for  all  that,  is  having  a  quiet 
conference  with  his  colonel.  Such  of  the  wounded  of  the  entire  com- 
mand as  are  w^ell  enough  to  travel  by  easy  stages  to  the  railway  go  with 
Maynard  and  the  regiment  in  the  morning,  and  Sergeant  McLcod,  with 
his  sabre-arm  in  a  sling,  is  one  of  these.  But  the  captain  of  Company 
B  must  wait  until  the  surgeons  can  lift  him  along  in  an  ambulance  and 
all  fear  of  fever  has  subsided.  To  the  colonel  and  Chester  he  hands 
the  note  M'hich  is  all  that  is  left  to  comfort  poor  Nina  Beaubien.  To 
them  he  reads  aloud  the  note  addressed  to  himself: 

"  You  are  right  in  saying  that  the  matter  of  my  possession  of  that 
photograph  should  be  explained.  I  seek  no  longer  to  palliate  my 
action.  In  making  that  puppyish  bet  with  Sloat  I  did  believe  that  I 
could  induce  Miss  Renwick  or  her  mother  to  let  me  have  a  copy ;  but 
I  was  refused  so  positively  that  I  knew  it  was  useless.  This  simply 
added  to  my  desire  to  have  one.  The  photographer  was  the  same  that 
took  the  pictures  and  furnished  the  albums  for  our  class  at  graduation, 
and  I,  more  than  any  one,  had  been  instrumental  in  getting  the  order 
for  him  against  very  active  opposition.  He  had  always  professed  the 
greatest  gratitude  to  me  and  a  willingness  to  do  anything  for  me.  I 
wrote  to  him  in  strict  confidence,  told  him  of  iho.  intimate  and  close 
relations  existing  between  the  colonel's  family  and  me,  told  him  I 
wanted  it  to  enlarge  and  present  to  her  mother  on  her  approaching 
birthday,  and  promised  him  that  I  would  never  reveal  how  I  came  by 
the  picture  so  long  as  I  lived ;  and  he  sent  me  one, — just  in  time. 
Have  I  not  paid  heavily  for  my  sin  ?" 

No  one  spoke  for  a  moment.  Chester  was  the  first  to  break  the 
silence : 

"  Poor  fellow !  He  kept  liis  word  to  the  photographer ;  but  what 
was  it  worth  to  a  woman  ?" 

There  had  been  a  week  of  wild  anxiety  and  excitement  at  Sibley. 


FROM    THE  RANKS.  869 

It  was  known  through  tlie  cohinins  of  the  press  that  the  regiment  had 
hurried  forward  from  the  railway  the  instant  it  reached  the  Colorado 
trail,  that  it  could  not  hope  to  get  through  to  the  valley  of  the  Spirit 
Wolf  without  a  fight,  and  that  the  moment  it  succeeded  in  joining 
hands  with  the  cavalry  already  there  a  vigorous  attack  would  be  made 
on  the  Indians.  The  news  of  the  rescue  of  the  survivors  of  Thornton's 
command  came  first,  and  with  it  the  tidings  that  Maynard  and  his  regi- 
ment were  met  only  thirty  miles  from  the  scene  and  were  pushing  for- 
ward. The  next  news  came  two  days  later,  and  a  wail  went  up  even 
while  men  were  shaking  hands  and  rejoicing  over  the  gallant  fight  that 
had  been  made,  and  women  were  weeping  for  joy  and  thanking  God 
that  those  whom  they  held  dearest  were  safe.  It  was  down  among  the 
wives  of  the  sergeants  and  other  veterans  that  the  blow  struck  hardest 
at  Sibley;  for  the  stricken  officers  were  unmarried  men,  while  among 
the  rank  and  file  there  were  several  who  never  came  back  to  the  little 
ones  who  bore  their  name.  Company  B  had  suffered  most,  for  the 
Indians  had  charged  fiercely  on  its  deployed  but  steadfast  line.  Armi- 
tage  almost  choked  and  broke  down  when  telling  the  colonel  about  it 
that  night  as  he  lay  under  the  willows  :  "  It  was  the  first  smile  I  had 
seen  on  his  face  since  I  got  back, — that  with  which  he  looked  up  in 
my  eyes  and  whispered  good-by, — and  died, — just  after  we  drove  them 
back.  My  turn  came  later."  Old  Sloat,  too,  "  had  his  customary 
crack,"  as  he  expressed  it, — a  shot  through  the  wrist  that  made  him 
hop  and  swear  savagely  until  some  of  the  men  got  to  laughing  at  the 
comical  figure  he  cut,  and  then  he  turned  and  damned  them  with  hearty 
good  will,  and  seemed  all  oblivious  of  the  bullets  that  went  zipping 
past  his  frosting  head.  Young  Rollins,  to  his  inexj)ressible  pride  and 
comfort,  had  a  bullet-hole  through  his  scouting-hat  and  another  through 
his  shoulder-strap  that  raised  a  big  welt  on  the  white  skin  beneatli,  but, 
to  the  detriment  of  promotion,  no  captain  was  killed,  and  Jerrold  gave 
the  only  file. 

The  one  question  at  Sibley  was,  "What  will  Nina  Beaubien  do?" 
She  did  nothing.  She  would  see  nobody  from  the  instant  the  news 
came.  She  had  hardly  slept  at  night, — was  always  awake  at  dawn  and 
out  at  the  gate  to  get  the  earliest  copy  of  the  morning  papers;  but  the 
news  reached  them  at  nio-htfall,  and  when  some  of  the  ladies  from  the 
fort  drove  in  to  offer  their  sympathy  and  condolence  in  the  morning, 
and  to  make  tender  inquiry,  the  answer  at  the  door  was  that  Miss 
Nina  saw  nobody,  that  her  mother  alone  was  with  her,  and  that  "she 
was  very  still."  And  so  it  went  for  some  days.  Then  there  came  the 
return  of  the  command  to  Sibley ;  and  hundreds  of  people  went  up 
from  town  to  see  the  six  companies  of  the  fort  garrison  march  up 
the  winding  road  amid  the  thunder  of  M-elcome  from  the  guns  of  the 
light  battery  and  the  exultant  strains  of  the  band.  Mrs.  Maynard  and 
Alice  were  the  only  ladies  of  the  circle  who  were  not  there :  a  son  and 
brother  had  joined  them,  after  long  absence,  at  Aunt  Grace's  cottage 
at  Sablon,  was  the  explanation,  and  the  colonel  would  bring  them  home 
in  a  few  days,  after  he  had  attended  to  some  important  matters  at  the 
fort.  In  the  first  place,  Chester  had  to  see  to  it  that  the  tongue  of 
scandal  was  slit,  so  far  as  the  colonel's  household  was  concerned,  and 


870  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

all  good  people  notified  that  no  such  thing  had  happened  as  was  popu- 
larly supposed  (and  "  everybody"  received  the  announcement  with  the 
remark  that  she  knew  all  along  it  couldn't  be  so),  and  that  a  grievous 
and  absurd  but  most  mortifying  blunder  had  been  made.  It  was  a 
most  unpleasant  ghost  to  "  down,"  the  shadow  of  that  scandal,  for  it 
would  come  up  to  the  surface  of  garrison  chat  at  all  manner  of  con- 
fidential moments ;  but  no  man  or  woman  could  safely  speak  of  it  to 
Chester.  It  was  gradually  assumed  that  he  was  the  man  who  had  done 
all  the  blundering  and  that  he  was  supersensitive  on  the  subject. 

There  was  another  thing  never  satisfactorily  explained  to  some  of 
the  garrison  people,  and  that  was  Nina  Beaubien's  strange  conduct.  In 
less  than  a  week  she  was  seen  on  the  street  in  colors, — brilliant  colors, 
— when  it  was  known  she  had  ordered  deep  mourning,  and  then  she 
suddenly  disappeared  and  went  with  her  silent  old  mother  abroad. 
To  this  day  no  woman  in  society  understands  it,  for  when  she  came 
back,  long,  long  afterwards,  it  was  a  subject  on  which  she  would  never 
speak.  There  were  one  or  two  who  ventured  to  ask,  and  the  answer 
was,  "  For  reasons  that  concern  me  alone."  But  it  took  no  great  power 
of  mental  vision  to  see  that  her  heart  wore  black  for  him  forever. 

His  letter  explained  it  all.  She  had  received  it  with  a  paroxysm 
of  passionate  grief  and  joy,  kissed  it,  covered  it  with  wildest  caresses 
before  she  began  to  read,  and  then,  little  by  little,  as  the  words  un- 
folded before  her  staring  eyes,  turned  cold  as  stone : 

"  It  is  my  last  night  of  life,  Nina,  and  I  am  glad  'tis  so.  Proud 
and  sensitive  as  I  am,  the  knowledge  that  every  man  in  my  regiment 
has  turned  from  me, — that  I  have  not  a  friend  among  them, — that 
there  is  no  longer  a  place  for  me  in  their  midst, — more  than  all,  that  I 
des&^ve  their  contempt, — has  broken  my  heart.  We  will  be  in  battle 
before  the  setting  of  another  sun.  Any  man  who  seeks  death  in  In- 
dian fight  can  find  it  easily  enough,  and  I  can  compel  their  respect  in 
spite  of  themselves.  They  will  not  recognize  me,  living,  as  one  of  them  ; 
but  dying  on  the  field,  they  have  to  place  me  on  their  roll  of  honor. 

"  But  now  I  turn  to  you.  What  have  I  been, — what  am  I, — to 
have  won  such  love  as  yours?  May  God  in  heaven  forgive  me  for  my 
past !  All  too  late  I  hate  and  despise  the  man  I  have  been, — the  man 
whom  you  loved.  One  last  act  of  justice  remains.  If  I  died  without 
it  you  would  mourn  me  faithfully,  tenderly,  lovingly,  for  years,  but  if  I 
tell  the  truth  you  will  see  the  utter  unworthiness  of  the  man,  and  your 
love  will  turn  to  contempt.  It  is  hard  to  do  this,  knowing  that  in 
doing  it  I  kill  the  only  genuine  regret  and  dry  the  only  tear  that 
would  bless  my  memory ;  but  it  is  the  one  sacrifice  I  can  make  to  com- 
plete my  self-humiliation,  and  it  is  the  one  thing  that  is  left  me  that 
will  free  you.  It  will  sting  at  first,  but,  like  the  surgeon's  knife,  its 
cut  is  mercy.  Nina,  the  very  night  I  came  to  you  on  the  bluifs,  the 
very  night  you  perilled  your  honor  to  have  that  parting  interview,  I 
went  to  you  with  a  lie  on  ray  lips.  I  had  told  her  we  were  nothing  to 
each  other, — you  and  I.  More  than  that,  I  was  seeking  her  love ;  I 
hoped  I  could  win  her ;  and  had  she  loved  me  I  would  have  turned 
from  you  to  make  her  my  wife.  Nina,  I  loved  Alice  Renwick.  Good- 
by.     Don't  mourn  for  me  after  this." 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  871 

XX. 

They  were  having  a  family  conclave  at  Sablon.  The  furlough 
granted  Sergeant  McLeod  on  account  of  wound  received  in  action  with 
hostile  Indians  would  soon  expire,  and  the  question  was,  should  he  ask 
an  extension,  apply  for  a  discharge,  or  go  back  and  rejoin  his  troop? 
It  was  a  matter  on  which  there  was  much  diversity  of  opinion.  Mrs. 
Maynard  should  naturally  be  permitted  first  choice,  and  to  her  wish 
there  was  every  reason  for  according  deep  and  tender  consideration. 
No  words  can  tell  of  the  raptiu-e  of  that  reunion  with  her  long-lost  son. 
It  was  a  scene  over  which  the  colonel  could  never  ponder  without  deep 
emotion.  The  telegrams  and  letters  by  vfhich  he  carefully  prepared  her 
for  Frederick's .  coming  were  all  insufficient.  She  knew  well  that  her 
boy  must  have  greatly  changed  and  matured,  but  when  tliis  tall, 
bronzed,  bearded,  stalwart  man  sprang  from  the  old  red  omnibus  and 
threw  his  one  serviceable  arm  around  her  trembling  form,  the  mother 
was  utterly  overcome.  Alice  left  them  alone  together  a  full  hour  before 
even  she  intruded,  and  little  by  little,  as  the  days  went  by  and  Mrs. 
Maynard  realized  that  it  was  really  her  Fred  who  was  whistling  about 
the  cottage  or  booming  trooper  songs  in  his  great  basso  profundo,  and 
glorying  in  his  regiment  and  the  cavalry  life  he  had  led,  a  wonderful 
content  and  joy  shone  in  her  handsome  face.  It  was  not  until  the 
colonel  announced  that  it  was  about  time  for  them  to  think  of  going 
back  to  Sibley  that  the  cloud  came.     Fred  said  he  couldn't  go. 

In  fact,  the  colonel  himself  had  been  worrying  a  little  over  it.  As 
Fred  Renwick,  the  tall  distinguished  young  man  in  civilian  costume, 
he  would  be  welcome  anywhere ;  but,  though  his  garb  was  that  of  the 
sovereign  citizen  so  long  as  his  furlough  lasted,  there  were  but  two 
weeks  more  of  it  left,  and  officially  he  was  nothing  more  nor  less  than 
Sergeant  McLeod,  Troop  B, th  Cavalry,  and  there  was  no  prece- 
dent for  a  colonel's  entertaining  as  an  honored  guest  and  social  equal 
one  of  the  enlisted  men  of  the  army.  He  rather  hoped  that  Fred 
would  yield  to  his  mother's  entreaties  and  apply  for  a  discharge.  His 
wound  and  the  latent  trouble  with  his  heart  would  probably  render  it 
an  easy  matter  to  obtain ;  and  yet  he  was  ashamed  of  himself  for  the 
feeling. 

Then  there  was  Alice.  It  was  hardly  to  be  supposed  that  so  very  high 
bred  a  young  woman  would  relish  the  idea  of  being  seen  around  Fort 
Sibley  on  the  arm  of  her  brother  the  sergeant ;  but,  wonderful  to  relate. 
Miss  Alice  took  a  radically  different  view  of  the  whole  situation.  So 
far  from  wishing  Fred  out  of  the  army,  she  importuned  him  day  after 
day  until  he  got  out  his  best  uniform,  with  its  resplendent  chevrons  and 
stripes  of  vivid  yellow,  and  the  yellow  helmet-cords,  though  they  were 
but  humble  worsted,  and  when  he  came  forth  in  that  dress,  with  the 
bronze  medal  on  his  left  breast  and  the  sharpshooter's  silver  cross, 
his  tall  athletic  jSgure  showing  to  sucli  advantage,  his  dark,  Southern, 
manly  features  so  enhanced  by  contrast  with  his  yellow  facings,  she 
clapped  her  hands  with  a  cry  of  delight  and  sprang  into  his  one  avail- 
able arm  and  threw  her  own  about  his  neck  and  kissed  him  again  and 
again.  Even  mamma  had  to  admit  he  looked  astonishingly  well ;  but 
Alice  declared  she  would  never  thereafter  be  reconciled  to  seeing  him  in 


872  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

anything  but  a  cavalry  uniform.  The  colonel  found  her  not  at  all  of 
her  mother's  way  of  thinking.  She  saw  no  reason  why  Fred  should 
leave  the  service.  Other  sergeants  had  won  their  commissions  every 
year  :  why  not  he  ?  Even  if  it  were  some  time  in  coming,  was  there 
shame  or  degradation  in  being  a  cavalry  sergeant  ?  Not  a  bit  of  it ! 
Fred  himself  was  loath  to  quit.  He  was  getting  a  little  homesick,  too, 
— homesick  for  the  boundless  life  and  space  and  air  of  the  broad 
frontier, — homesick  for  the  rapid  movement  and  vigorous  hours  in  the 
saddle  and  on  the  scout.  His  arm  was  healing,  and  such  a  delight  of  a 
letter  had  come  from  his  captain,  telling  him  that  the  adjutant  had  just 
been  to  see  him  about  the  new  staff  of  the  regiment.  The  gallant 
sergeant-major,  a  young  Prussian  of  marked  ability,  had  been  killed 
early  in  the  campaign  ;  the  vacancy  must  soon  be  filled,  and  the  colonel 
and  the  adjutant  both  thought  at  once  of  Sergeant  McLeod.  "  I  won't 
stand  in  your  way,  sergeant,"  wrote  his  troop  commander,  "  but  you 
know  that  old  Ryan  is  to  be  discharged  at  the  end  of  his  sixth  enlist- 
ment the  lOtli  of  next  month ;  there  is  no  man  I  would  sooner  see  in 
his  place  as  first  sergeant  of  my  troop  than  yourself,  and  I  hate  to  lose 
you  ;  but,  as  it  will  be  for  the  gain  and  the  good  of  the  whole  regiment, 
you  ought  to  accept  the  adjutant's  offer.  All  the  men  rejoice  to  hear 
you  are  recovering  so  fast,  and  all  will  be  glad  to  see  Sergeant  McLeod 
back  again." 

Even  Mrs.  Maynard  could  not  but  see  the  pride  and  comfort  this 
letter  gave  her  son.  Her  own  longing  Avas  to  have  him  established  in 
some  business  in  the  East ;  but  he  said  frankly  he  had  no  taste  for  it, 
and  would  only  pine  for  the  old  life  in  the  saddle.  There  were  other 
reasons,  too,  said  he,  why  he  felt  that  he  could  not  go  back  to  New 
York,  and  his  voice  trembled,  and  Mrs.  Maynard  said  no  more.  It 
was  the  sole  allusion  he  had  made  to  the  old,  old  sorrow,  but  it  was 
plain  that  the  recovery  was  incomplete.  The  colonel  and  the  doctor  at 
Sibley  believed  that  Fred  could  be  carried  past  the  medical  board  by  a 
little  management,  and  everything  began  to  look  as  though  he  would 
have  his  way.  All  they  were  waiting  for,  said  the  colonel,  was  to  hear 
from  Armitage.     He  was  still  at  Fort  Russell  with  the  head-quarters 

and  several  troops  of  the th  Cavalry  :  his  wound  was  too  severe 

for  him  to  travel  farther  for  weeks  to  come,  but  he  could  write,  and  he 
had  been  consulted.  They  were  sitting  under  the  broad  piazza  at 
Sablon,  looking  out  at  the  lovely,  placid  lake,  and  talking  it  over 
among  themselves. 

"  I  have  always  leaned  on  Armitage  ever  since  I  first  came  to  the 
regiment  and  f  )und  him  adjutant,"  said  the  colonel.  "  I  always  found 
his  judgment  clear ;  but  since  our  last  experience  I  have  begun  to  look 
upon  him  as  infallible." 

Alice  Renwick's  face  took  on  a  flood  of  crimson  as  slie  sat  there  by 
her  brother's  side,  silent  and  attehtive.  Only  within  the  week  that  fol- 
lowed their  return — the  colonel's  and  her  brother's— had  the  story  of 
the  strange  complication  been  revealed  to  them.  Twice  had  she  heard 
from  Fred's  lips  the  story  of  Frank  Armitage's  greeting  that  frosty 
morning  at  the  sjirings.  Time  and  again  had  she  made  her  mother  go 
over  the  colonel's  account  of  the  confidence  and  faith  he  had  expressed 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  873 

in  there  being  a  simple  explanation  of  the  whole  mystery,  and  of  his 
indignant  refusal  to  attach  one  moment's  suspicion  to  her.  Shocked, 
stunned,  outraged  as  she  felt  at  the  mere  fact  that  such  a  story  had 
gained  an  instant's  credence  in  garrison  circles,  she  was  overwhelmed 
by  the  weight  of  circumstantial  evidence  that  had  been  arrayed  against 
her.  Only  little  by  little  did  her  mother  reveal  it  to  her.  Only  after 
several  days  did  Fred  repeat  the  story  of  his  night  adventure  and  his 
theft  of  her  picture,  of  his  narrow  escape,  and  of  his  subsequent  visit  to 
the  cottage.  Only  gradually  had  her  mother  revealed  to  her  the  cir- 
cumstances of  Jerrold's  wager  with  Sloat,  and  the  direful  consequences ; 
of  his  double  absences  the  very  nights  on  which  Fred  had  made  his 
visits ;  of  the  suspicions  that  resulted,  the  accusations,  and  his  refusal 
to  explain  and  clear  her  name.  Mrs.  Maynard  felt  vaguely  relieved  to 
see  how  slight  an  impression  the  young  man  had  made  on  her  daughter's 
heart.  Alice  seemed  but  little  surprised  to  hear  of  the  engagement  to 
Nina  Beaubien,  of  her  rush  to  his  rescue,  and  their  romantic  parting. 
The  tragedy  of  his  death  hushed  all  further  talk  on  that  subject.  There 
was  one  on  which  she  could  not  hear  enough,  and  that  was  about  the 
man  who  had  been  most  instrumental  in  the  rescue  of  her  name  and 
honor.  Alice  had  only  tender  sorrow  and  no  reproach  for  her  step-father- 
when,  after  her  mother  told  her  the  story  of  his  sad  experience  twenty 
years  before,  she  related  his  distress  of  mind  and  suspicion  when  he  read 
Jerrold's  letter.  It  was  then  that  Alice  said,  "  And  against  that  piece 
of  evidence  no  man,  I  suppose,  would  hold  me  guiltless." 

"  You  are  wrong,  dear,"  was  her  mother's  answer.  "  It  was  power- 
less to  move  Captain  Armitage.  -He  scouted  the  idea  of  your  guilt  from 
the  moment  he  set  eyes  on  you,  and  never  rested  until  he  had  overturned 
the  last  atom  of  evidence.  Even  I  had  to  explain,"  said  her  mother, 
"  simply  to  confirm  his  theory  of  the  light  Captain  Chester  had  seen, 
and  the  shadows  and  the  form  at  the  window.  It  was  just  exactly  as 
Armitage  reasoned  it  out.  I  was  wretched  and  wakeful,  sleeping  but 
fitfully,  that  night.  I  arose  and  took  some  bromide  about  three  o'clock, 
and  soon  afterwards  heard  a  fall,  or  a  noise  like  one.  I  thought  of  you, 
and  got  up  and  went  in  your  room,  and  all  was  quiet  there,  but  it  seemed 
close  and  warm :  so  I  raised  your  shade,  and  then  left  both  your  door 
and  mine  open  and  went  back  to  bed.  I  dozed  away  presently,  and 
then  woke  feeling  all  startled  again, — don't  you  know  ? — the  sensation 
one  experiences  when  aroused  from  sleep,  certain  that  there  has  been  a 
strange  and  startling  noise,  and  yet  unable  to  tell  what  it  was?  I  lay 
still  a  moment,  but  the  colonel  slept  through  it  all,  and  I  wondered  at 
it.  I  knew  there  had  been  a  shot,  or  something,  but  could  not  bear  to 
disturb  him.  At  last  I  got  up  again  and  went  to  your  room  to  be  sure 
you  were  all  right,  and  you  were  sleeping  soundly  still ;  but  a  breeze 
was  beginning  to  blow  and  flap  your  shade  to  and  fro,  so  I  drew  it  and 
went  out,  taking  my  lamp  with  me  this  time  and  softly  closing  your 
door  behind  me.  See  how  it  all  seemed  to  fit  in  with  everything  else 
that  had  happened.  It  took  a  man  with  a  will  of  his  own  and  an  un- 
shaken faith  in  woman  to  stand  firm  against  such  evidence." 

And,  though  Alice  Renwick  was  silent,  she  appreciated  the  fact 
none  the  less.     Day  after  day  she  clung  to  her  stalwart  brother's  side. 
Vol.  XL.- 57 


874  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

She  had  ceased  to  ask  questions  about  Captain  Armitage  and  that 
strange  greeting  after  the  first  day  or  two,  but,  oddly  enough,  she  could 
never  let  him  talk  long  of  any  subject  but  that  campaign,  of  his  ride 
with  the  captain  to  the  front,  of  the  long  talk  they  had  had,  and  then 
the  stirring  fight  and  the  magnificent  way  in  which  Armitage  had 
handled  his  long  skirmish-line.  He  was  enthusiastic  in  his  praise  of 
the  tall  Saxon  captain.  He  soon  noted  how  silent  and  absorbed  she 
sat  when  he  was  the  theme  of  discourse;  he  incidentally  mentioned 
little  things  "  he"  had  said  about  "  her"  that  morning,  and  marked 
how  her  color  rose  and  her  eyes  flashed  quick,  joyful,  questioning 
glance  at  his  face,  then  fell  in  maiden  shyness.  He  had  speedily 
gauged  the  cause  of  that  strange  excitement  displayed  by  Armitage 
at  seeing  him  the  morning  he  rode  in  with  the  scout.  Now  he  was 
gauging,  with  infinite  delight,  the  other  side  of  the  question.  Then, 
brother-like,  he  began  to  twit  and  tease  her ;  and  that  was  the  last  of 
the  confidences. 

All  the  same  it  was  an  eager  group  that  surrounded  the  colonel  the 
evening  he  came  down  with  the  captain's  letter.  "  It  settles  the  thing 
in  my  mind.  We'll  go  back  to  Sibley  to-morrow;  and  as  for  you, 
Sergeant-Major  Fred,  your  name  has  gone  in  for  a  commission,  and 
I've  no  doubt  a  very  deserving  sergeant  will  be  spoiled  in  making  a 
very  good-for-nothing  second  lieutenant.  Get  you  back  to  your  regi- 
ment, sir,  and  call  on  Captain  Armitage  as  soon  as  you  reach  Fort 
Russell,  and  tell  him  you  are  much  obliged.  He  has  been  blowing 
your  trumpet  for  you  there ;  and,  as  some  of  those  cavalrymen  have 
sense  enough  to  appreciate  the  opinion  of  such  a  soldier  as  my  ex- 
adjutant, — some  of  them,  mind  you  :  I  don't  admit  that  all  cavalry- 
men have  sense  enough  to  keep  them  out  of  perpetual  trouble, — you 
came  in  for  a  hearty  endorsement,  and  you'll  probably  be  up  before  the 
next  board  for  examination.  Go  and  bone  your  Constitution,  and  the 
Rule  of  Three,  and  who  was  the  father  of  Zebedee's  children,  and  the 
order  of  the  Ptolemies  and  the  Seleucidse,  and  other  such  things  that 
they'll  be  sure  to  ask  you  as  indispensable  to  the  mental  outfit  of  an 
Indian-fighter."  It  was  evident  that  the  colonel  was  in  joyous  mood. 
But  Alice  was  silent.  She  wanted  to  hear  the  letter.  He  would  have 
handed  it  to  Frederick,  but  both  Mrs.  Maynard  and  Aunt  Grace 
clamored  to  hear  it  read  aloud  :  so  he  cleared  his  throat  and  began  : 

"My  deak  Colonel, — 

"  Fred's  chances  for  a  commission  are  good,  as  the  enclosed  papers 
will  show  you ;  but  even  were  this  not  the  case  I  would  have  but  one 
thing  to  say  in  answer  to  your  letter :  he  should  go  back  to  his  troop. 

"  Whatever  our  friends  and  fellow-citizens  may  think  on  the  subject, 
I  hold  that  the  profession  of  the  soldier  is  to  the  full  as  honorable  as 
any  in  civil  life ;  and  it  is  liable  at  any  moment  to  be  more  useful.  I 
do  not  mean  the  officer  alone.  I  say,  and  mean,  the  soldier.  As  for 
me,  I  would  rather  be  first  sergeant  of  my  troop  or  company,  or  ser- 
geant-major of  my  regiment,  than  any  lieutenant  in  it  except  the  adju- 
tant. Hope  of  promotion  is  all  that  can  make  a  subaltern's  life  en- 
durable,  but    the    staif-sergeant   or   the   first   sergeant,   honored   and 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  875 

respected  by  his  officers,  decorated  for  bravery  by  Congress,  and  looked 
up  to  by  his  comrades,  is  a  king  among  men.  The  pay  has  nothing 
to  do  with  it.  I  say  to  Renwick,  '  Come  back  as  soon  as  your  wound 
will  let  you,'  and  I  envy  him  the  welcome  that  will  be  his. 

"  As  for  me,  I  am  even  more  eager  to  get  back  to  you  all ;  but 
things  look  very  dubious.  The  doctors  shake  their  heads  at  anything 
under  a  month,  and  say  I'll  be  lucky  if  I  eat  my  Thanksgiving  dinner 
with  you.  If  trying  to  get  well  is  going  to  help,  October  shall  not  be 
done  with  before  B  Company  will  report  me  present  again. 

"  I  need  not  tell  you,  my  dear  old  friend,  how  I  rejoice  with  you  in 
your — hum  and  haw  and  this  is  all  about  something  else,"  goes  on  the 
colonel,  in  malignant  disregard  of  the  longing  looks  in  the  eyes  of  three 
women,  all  of  whom  are  eager  to  hear  the  rest  of  it,  and  one  of  whom 
wouldn't  say  so  for  worlds.  "  Write  to  me  often.  Remember  me 
warmly  to  the  ladies  of  your  household.  I  fear  Miss  Alice  would  de- 
spise this  wild,  open  prairie-country ;  there  is  no  golden-rod  here,  and  I 
so  often  see  her  as — hum  and  hum  and  all  that  sort  of  talk  of  no  interest 
to  anybody,"  says  he,  with  a  quizzical  look  over  his  "  bows"  at  the 
lovely  face  and  form  bending  forward  with  forgetful  eagerness  to  hear 
how  "  he  so  often  sees  her."  And  there  is  a  great  bunch  of  golden-rod 
in  her  lap  now,  and  a  vivid  blush  on  her  cheek.  The  colonel  is  waxing 
as  frivolous  as  Fred,  and  quite  as  great  a  tease. 

And  then  October  comes,  and  Fred  has  gone,  and  the  colonel  and 
his  household  are  back  at  Sibley,  where  the  garrison  is  enraptured  at 
seeing  them,  and  where  the  women  precipitate  themselves  upon  them 
in  tumultuous  welcome.  If  Alice  cannot  quite  make  up  her  mind  to 
return  the  kisses,  and  shrinks  slightly  from  the  rapturous  embrace  of 
some  of  the  younger  and  more  impulsive  of  the  sisterhood, — if  Mrs. 
Maynard  is  a  trifle  more  distant  and  stately  than  was  the  case  before 
they  went  away, — the  garrison  does  not  resent  it.  The  ladies  don't 
wonder  they  feel  indignant  at  the  way  people  behaved  and  talked ;  and 
each  lady  is  sure  that  the  behavior  and  the  talk  were  all  somebody 
else's  ;  not  by  any  possible  chance  could  it  be  laid  at  the  door  of  the 
speaker.  And  Alice  is  the  reigning  belle  beyond  dispute,  though  there 
is  only  subdued  gayety  at  the  fort,  for  the  memory  of  their  losses  at 
the  Spirit  Wolf  is  still  fresh  in  the  minds  of  the  regiment.  But  no 
man  alludes  to  the  events  of  the  black  August  night,  no  woman  is 
permitted  to  address  either  Mrs.  Maynard  or  her  daughter  on  the  sub- 
ject. There  are  some  who  seek  to  be  confidential  and  who  cautiously 
feel  their  way  for  an  opening,  but  the  mental  sparring  is  vain  :  there  is 
an  indefinable,  something  that  tells  the  intruder,  "Thus  far,  and  no 
farther."  Mrs.  Maynard  is  courteous,  cordial,  and  hospitable,  Alice 
sweet  and  gracious  and  sympathetic,  even,  but  confidential  never. 

And  then  Captain  Armitage,  late  in  the  month,  comes  home  on 
crutches,  and  his  men  give  him  a  welcome  that  makes  the  rafters  ring, 
and  .he  rejoices  in  it  and  thanks  them  from  his  heart ;  but  there  is  a 
welcome  his  eyes  plead  for  that  would  mean  to  him  far  more  than  any 
other.  How  wistfully  he  studies  her  face  !  How  unmistakable  is  the 
love  and  worship  in  every  tone  !  How  quickly  the  garrison  sees  it  all, 
and  how  mad  the  garrison  is  to  see  whether  or  not  'tis  welcome  to  her  ! 


876  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

But  Alice  Renwick  is  no  maiden  to  be  lightly  won.  The  very  thought 
that  the  garrison  had  so  easily  given  her  over  to  JerroJd  is  enough  to 
mantle  her  cheek  with  indignant  protest.  She  accepts  his  attentions, 
as  she  does  those  of  the  younger  officers,  with  consummate  grace.  She 
shows  no  preference,  will  grant  no  favors.  She  makes  fair  distribution 
of  her  dances  at  the  hops  at  the  fort  and  the  parties  in  town.  There 
are  yonng  civilians  who  begin  to  be  devoted  in  society  and  to  come  ont 
to  the  fort  on  every  possible  opportunity,  and  these,  too,  she  welcomes 
with  laughing  grace  and  cordiality.  She  is  a  glowing,  radiant,  gor- 
geous beauty  this  cool  autumn,  and  she  rides  and  drives  and  dances, 
and,  the  women  say,  flirts,  and  looks  handsomer  every  day,  and  poor 
Armitage  is  beginning  to  look  very  grave  and  depressed.  "  He  wooes 
and  wins  not,"  is  the  cry.  His  wound  has  almost  healed,  so  far  as  the 
thigh  is  concerned,  and  his  crutches  are  discarded,  but  his  heart  is 
bleeding,  and  it  tells  on  his  general  condition.  The  doctors  say  he 
ought  to  be  getting  well  faster,  and  so  they  tell  Miss  Renwick, — at 
least  somebody  does;  but  still  she  relents  not,  and  it  is  something 
beyond  the  garrison's  power  of  conjecture  to  decide  what  the  result 
will  be.  Into  her  pretty  white-and-yellow"  room  no  one  penetrates 
except  at  her  invitation,  even  when  the  garrison  ladies  are  spending  the 
day  at  the  colonel's ;  and  even  if  they  did  there  would  be  no  visible 
sign  by  which  they  could  judge  whether  his  flowers  were  treasured  or 
his  picture  honored  above  others.  Into  her  brave  and  beautiful  nature 
none  can  gaze  and  say  with  any  confidence  either  "  she  loves"  or  "  she 
loves  not."  Winter  comes,  with  biting  cold  and  blinding  snow,  and 
still  there  is  no  sign.  The  joyous  holidays,  the  glad  New  Year,  are 
almost  at  hand,  and  still  there  is  no  symptom  of  surrender.  No  one 
dreams  of  the  depth  and  reverence  and  gratitude  and  loyalty  and 
strength  of  the  love  that  is  burning  in  her  heart  until,  all  of  a  sudden, 
in  the  most  unexpected  and  astonishing  way,  it  bursts  forth  in  sight 
of  all. 

They  had  been  down  skating  on  the  slough,  a  number  of  the 
youngsters  and  the  daughters  of  the  garrison.  Rollins  was  there, 
doing  the  devoted  to  Mamie  Gray,  and  already  there  were  gossips 
whispering  that  she  would  soon  forget  she  ever  knew  such  a  beau  as 
Jerrold  in  the  new-found  happiness  of  another  one;  Hall  was  there 
with  the  doctor's  pretty  daughter,  and  Mrs.  Hoyt  was  matronizing  the 
party,  which  would,  of  coui-se,  have  been  incomplete  without  Alice.  She 
had  been  skating  hand  in  hand  with  a  /ievoted  young  subaltern  in  the 
artillery,  and  poor  Armitage,  whose  leg  was  unequal  to  skating,  had  been 
ruefully  admiring  the  scene.  He  had  persuaded  Sloat  to  go  out  and 
walk  with  him,  and  Sloat  went ;  but  the  hollow  mockery  of  the  whole 
thing  became  apparent  to  him  after  they  had  been  watching  the  skaters 
awhile,  and  he  got  chilled  and  wanted  Armitage  to  push  ahead.  The 
captain  said  he  believed  his  leg  was  too  stiff  for  further  tramping  and 
would  be  the  better  for  a  rest ;  and  Sloat  left  him. 

Heavens !  how  beautiful  she  was,  with  her  sparkling  eyes  and 
radiant  color,  glowing  with  the  graceful  exercise !  He  sat  there  on 
an  old  log,  watching  the  skaters  as  they  flew  by  him,  and  striving  to 
keep  up  an  impartial  interest,  or  an  appearance  of  it,  for  the  other  girls. 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  877 

But  the  red  sun  was  going  down,  and  twilight  was  on  them  all  of  a 
sudden,  and  he  could  see  nothing  but  that  face  and  form.  He  closed 
his  eyes  a  moment  to  shut  out  the  too  eager  glare  of  the  glowing  disk 
taking  its  last  fierce  peep  at  them  over  the  western  bluffs,  and  as  he 
closed  them  the  same  vision  came  back, — the  picture  that  had  haunted 
his  every  living,  dreaming  moment  since  the  beautiful  August  Sunday 
in  the  woodland  lane  at  Sablon.  With  undying  love,  with  changeless 
passion,  his  life  was  given  over  to  the  fair,  slender  maiden  he  had  seen 
in  all  the  glory  of  the  sunshine  and  the  golden-rod,  standing  with  up- 
lifted head,  with  all  her  soul  shiniyg  in  her  beautiful  eyes  and  thrilling 
in  her  voice.  Both  worshipping  find  worshipped  was  Alice  ReuNvick 
as  she  sang  her  hymn  of  praise  in  unison  with  the  swelling  chorus  that 
floated  through  the  trees  from  tlie  little  brown  church  upon  the  hill. 
From  that  day  she  was  Queen  Alice  in  every  thought,  and  he  her  loyal, 
faithful  knight  for  weal  or  woe. 

Boom  went  the  sunset  gun  far  up  on  the  parade  above  them. 
'Twas  dinner-time,  and  the  skatei's  were  compelled  to  give  up  their  pas- 
time. Armitage  set  his  teeth  at  the  entirely  too  devotional  attitude  of 
the  artilleryman  as  he  slowly  and  lingeringly  removed  her  skates,  and 
turned  away  in  that  utterly  helpless  frame  of  mind  which  will  overtake 
the  strongest  men  on  similar  occasions.  He  had  been  sitting  too  long  in 
the  cold,  and  was  chilled  through  and  stiff,  and  his  wounded  leg  seemed 
numb.  Leaning  heavily  on  his  stout  stick,  he  began  slowly  and  j)ain- 
fuUy  the  ascent  to  the  railway,  and  chose  for  the  purpose  a  winding 
path  that  was  far  less  steep,  though  considerably  longer,  than  the  sharp 
climb  the  girls  and  their  escorts  made  so  light  of.  One  after  another 
the  glowing  faces  of  the  fair  skaters  appeared  above  the  embankment, 
and  their  gallants  carefully  convoyed  tliem  across  the  icy  and  slippery 
track  to  the  wooden  platform  beyond.  Arjnitage,  toiling  slowly  up  his 
pathway,  heard  their  blithe  laughter,  and  thought  with  no  little  bitter- 
ness that  it  was  a  case  of  "  out  of  sigiit  out  of  mind"  with  him,  as  with 
better  men.  What  sense  was  there  in  his  long  devotion  to  her  ?  Why 
stand  between  her  and  the  far  more  natural  choice  of  a  lover  nearer 
her  years  ?  "  Like  unto  like"  was  Nature's  law.  It  was  flying  in  the 
face  of  Providence  to  expect  to  win  the  love  of  one  so  young  and  fair, 
when  others  so  young  and  comely  craved  it.  The  sweat  was  beaded 
on  his  forehead  as  he  neared  the  top  and  came  in  sight  of  the  platform. 
Yes,  they  had  no  thought  for  him.  Already  Mrs.  Hoyt  was  half-way 
up  the  wooden  stairs,  and  the  others  were  scattered  more  or  less  between 
that  point  and  the  platform  at  the  station.  Far  down  at  the  south  end 
paced  the  fur-clad  sentry.  There  it  was  an  easy  step  from  the  track  to 
the  boards,  and  there,  with  much  laughter  but  no  difficulty,  the  young 
officers  had  lifted  their  fair  charges  to  the  walk.  All  were  chatting 
gayly  as  they  turned  away  to  take  the  wooden  causeway  from  the  station 
to  the  stairs,  and  Miss  Renwick  was  among  the  foremost  at  the  point 
where  it  left  the  platform.  Here,  how^ever,  she  glanced  back  and  then 
about  her,  and  then,  bending  down,  began  fumbling  at  the  buttons  of 
her  boot. 

"  Oh,  permit  me.  Miss  Renwick,"  said  her  eager  escort.  "  I  will 
button  it." 


878  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

"  Thanks,  no.  Please  don't  wait,  good  people.  I'll  be  with  you  in 
an  instant." 

And  so  the  other  girls,  absorbed  in  talk  with  their  respective  gal- 
lants, passed  her  by,  and  then  Alice  Renwick  again  stood  erect  and 
looked  anxiously  but  quickly  back. 

"  Captain  Arraitage  is  not  in  sight,  and  we  ought  not  to  leave  him. 
He  may  not  find  it  easy  to  climb  to  that  platform,"  she  said. 

"  Armitage  ?  Oh,  he'll  come  on  all  right,"  answered  the  battery- 
man,  with  easy  assurance.  "  Maybe  he  has  gone  round  by  the  road. 
Even  if  he  hasn't,  I've  seen  him  make  that  in  one  jump  many  a  time. 
He's  an  active  old  buffer  for  his  years." 

"  But  his  wound  may  prove  too  much  for  that  jump  now.  Ah  ! 
there  he  comes,"  she  answered,  with  evident  relief;  and  just  at  the 
moment,  too,  the  forage-cap  of  the  tall  soldier  rose  slowly  into  view 
some  distance  up  the  track,  and  he  came  walking  slowly  down  on  the 
sharp  curve  towards  the  platform,  the  same  sharp  curve  continuing  on 
out  of  sight  behind  him, — behind  the  high  and  rocky  bluff. 

"  He's  taken  the  long  way  up,"  said  the  gunner.  "  Well,  shall  we 
go  on?" 

"  Not  yet,"  she  said,  with  eyes  that  were  glowing  strangely  and  a 
voice  that  trembled.  Her  cheeks,  too,  were  paling.  "  Mr.  Stuart, 
I'm  sure  I  heard  the  roar  of  a  train  echoed  back  from  the  other  side." 

"  Nonsense,  Miss  Ren  wick !  There's  no  train  either  way  for  two 
hours  yet." 

But  she  had  begun  to  edge  her  way  back  toward  the  platform,  and 
he  could  not  but  follow.  Looking  across  the  intervening  space, — a 
rocky  hollow  twenty  feet  in  depth, — he  covild  see  that  the  captain  had 
reached  the  platform  and  was  seeking  for  a  good  place  to  step  up ;  then 
that  he  lifted  his  right  foot  and  placed  it  on  the  planking  and  with  his 
cane  and  the  stiff  and  wounded  left  leg  strove  to  push  himself  on. 
Had  there  been  a  hand  to  help  him,  all  would  have  been  easy  enough ; 
but  there  was  none,  and  the  plan  would  not  work.  Absorbed  in  his 
efforts,  he  could  not  see  Stuart ;  he  did  not  see  that  Miss  Ren  wick  had 
left  her  companions  and  was  retracing  her  steps  to  get  back  to  the 
platform.  He  heard  a  sudden  dull  roar  from  the  rocks  across  the 
stream ;  then  a  sharp,  shrill  whistle  just  around  the  bluff.  My  God  ! 
a  train,  and  that  man  there,  alone,  helpless,  deserted  !  Stuart  gave  a 
shout  of  agony  :  "  Back  !  Roll  back  over  the  bank  !"  Armitage 
glanced  around  ;  determined  ;  gave  one  mighty  effort ;  the  iron-ferruled 
stick  slipped  on  the  icy  track,  and  down  he  went,  prone  between  the 
glistening  rails,  even  as  the  black  vomiting  monster  came  thundering 
round  the  bend.  He  had  struck  his  head  upon  the  iron,  and  was 
stunned,  not  senseless,  but  scrambled  to  his  hands  and  knees  and  strove 
to  crawl  away.  Even  as  he  did  so  he  heard  a  shriek  of  anguish  in  his 
ears,  and  with  one  wild  leap  Alice  Renwick  came  flying  from  the  plat- 
form in  the  very  face  of  advancing  death,  and  the  next  instant,  her  arm 
clasped  about  his  neck,  his  strong  arms  tightly  clasping  her,  they  were 
lying  side  by  side,  bruised,  stunned,  but  safe,  in  a  welcoming  snow-drift 
half-way  down  the  hither  bank. 

When  Stuart  reached  the  scene,  as  soon  as  tlie  engine  and  some 


FROM   THE  RANKS.  879 

wrecking-cars  had  thundered  by,  he  looked  down  upon  a  picture  that 
dispelled  any  lingering  doubt  in  his  mind.  Arraitage,  clasping  Queen 
Alice  to  his  heart,  was  half  rising  from  the  blessed  mantlet  of  the  snow, 
and  she,  her  head  upon  his  broad  shoulder,  was  smiling  faintly  up  into 
his  face :  then  the  glorious  eyes  closed  in  a  death-like  swoon. 

Fort  Sibley  had  its  share  of  sensations  that  eventful  year.  Its 
crowning  triumph  in  the  one  that  followed  was  the  wedding  in  the 
early  spring.  Of  all  the  lovely  women  there  assembled,  the  bride  by 
common  consent  stood  unrivalled, — Queen  Alice  indeed.  There  was 
some  diiference  of  opinion  among  authorities  as  to  who  was  really  the 
finest-looking  and  most  soldierly  among  the  throng  of  officers  in  the 
conventional  full-dress  uniform  :  many  there  were  who  gave  the  palm 
to  the  ta,ll,  dark,  slender  lieutenant  of  cavalry  who  wore  his  shoulder- 
knots  for  the  first  time  on  this  occasion,  and  who,  for  a  man  from  the 
ranks,  seemed  consummately  at  home  in  the  manifold  and  trying  duties 
of  a  groomsman.  Mrs.  Maynard,  leaning  on  his  arm  at  a  later  hour 
and  looking  up  rapturously  in  his  bronzed  features,  had  no  divided 
opinion.  While  others  had  by  no  means  so  readily  forgotten  or  for- 
given the  mad  freak  that  so  nearly  involved  them  all  in  wretched  mis- 
understanding, she  had  nothing  but  rejoicing  in  his  whole  career. 
Proud  of  the  gallant  officer  who  had  won  the  daughter  whom  she 
loved  so  tenderly,  she  still  believes,  in  the  depths  of  the  boundless 
mother-love,  that  no  man  can  quite  surpass  her  soldier  sou. 


THE   END. 


380  MF  FIRST  APPEARANCE. 


MY  FIRST  APPEARANCE. 

ONE  bright  October  morning,  between  five  and  six  years  ago,  I 
started  in  search  of  the  stage  door  of  the  Grand  Opera-House 
in  New  York.  The  necessity  of  earning  my  own  daily  bread  had 
arisen.  As  ray  voice  was  the  most  available  resource  at  my  command, 
I  determined  to  turn  it  at  once  into  money. 

I  went  alone,  for  two  reasons.  In  the  first  place,  if  I  failed  in  my 
attempt  no  one  would  be  the  wiser.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  my  mission 
met  with  success,  I  felt  a  pride  in  standing  upon  my  own  merits  and 
ability  to  perform  the  work  I  had  chosen  in  preference  to  taking  ad- 
vantage of  the  glamour  of  social  influence  that  might  have  been  thrown 
around  the  debut  of  one  who  stepped,  as  it  were,  directly  from  the 
drawing-room  to  the  stage.  My  own  knowledge  of  theatrical  life  had 
been  gained  entirely  audience-side  of  the  footlights ;  and  of  its  require- 
ments in  detail  I  was  absolutely  ignorant. 

A  lucky  chance  had  obtained  for  me  a  letter  of  introduction  to  the 
manager.  Armed  with  this  sesame  to  that  delightfully  mysterious  place 
"  behind  the  scenes,"  and  filled  with  my  orchestra-stall  views,  I  pre- 
sented myself  at  the  stage  entrance.  The  old  man  in  charge  of  the 
door,  having  taken  my  letter  and  bidden  me  "  wait  here,"  disappeared 
into  the  gloom,  whence  he  emerged  a  few  minutes  later  with  the  mes- 
sage that  I  was  to  come  and  wait  on  the  stage ;  they  were  rehearsing, 
and  the  manager  could  not  see  me  until  they  had  finished. 

I  followed  him  dowai  the  long  dark  passage  with  a  mingled  feeling 
of  suppressed  excitement,  awe,  and  a  strong  desire  to  turn  and  run 
away.  But  before  I  could  put  the  latter  into  action  the  old  man  had 
placed  a  chair  for  me  in  a  remote  corner  of  the  stage  and  left  me  to  my 
fate. 

When  my  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the  dim  light,  my  first  im- 
pressions were  of  the  vastness  of  the  stage,  only  half  occupied  by  the 
people  rehearsing,  the  chill  gloom  of  its  bare  high  brick  walls,  and  the 
unattractiveness  of  the  scenery  and  stage  "  seats"  piled  up  against  them. 
The  only  familiar  thing  in  the  whole  scene  was  the  musty,  gassy  odor 
which  is  sometimes  wafted  to  the  audience  at  the  raising  of  the  curtain. 

The  company  were  having  a  final  rehearsal  of  the  opera  to  be  pro- 
duced that  evening.  As  I  watched  its  progress  from  my  distant  seat, 
I  got  some  insight  into  "stage  business"  and  the  management  of  a 
real  rehearsal,  a  bewildering  revelation  to  one  of  my  merely  amateur 
experience. 

Occasionally  some  member  of  the  chorus  when  off  the  scene 
glanced  at  me  askance.  Others  came  up  and  inquired  for  whom  I  was 
waiting.  Their  curiosity  gratified,  they  returned  to  their  work  and 
left  me  unnoticed ;  but  I  was  seized  with  such  an  overwhelming  loneli- 
ness that  even  the  novelty  of  my  surroundings  hardly  overcame  my 
sense  of  being  a  sort  of  forbidden  guest  among  people  whose  lives  and 
interests  were  entirely  apart  from  mine. 


DuNRAVEN  Ranch 


BY 


CHARLES    KING, 

U.S.  AKMY, 

AUTHOR   OF    "THE   COLOKEL'S    DAUGHTER,"    "FROM   THE   RANKS," 
"THE    DESERTER,"    ETC. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY. 


Copyriglit,  1888,  by  J.  B.  Lippincott  Company. 


^ll|[s^Xf■H'^■,T■^R5A^^.PPINTERSl|l^ 


LIPPINCOTT'S 
]y[ONTHLY   J^AGAZINE. 


DECEMBER,    188  8. 


DUNRAVEN    RANCH. 


IT  was  nearly  midnight,  and  still  the  gay  jmrty  lingered  on  the  ve- 
randa. There  had  been  a  fortnight  of  "getting  settled"  at  the 
new  post,  preceded  by  a  month  of  marching  that  had  brought  the 
battalion  from  distant  service  to  this  strange,  Texan  station.  The  new- 
comers had  been  hospitably  welcomed  by  the  officers  of  the  little  gar- 
rison of  infantry,  and  now,  in  recognition  of  their  many  courtesies,  the 
field-officer  commanding  the  arriving  troops  had  been  entertaining  the 
resident  officers  and  ladies  at  dinner.  The  colonel  was  a  host  in  him- 
self, but  preferred  not  to  draw  too  heavily  on  his  reserves  of  anecdote 
and  small-talk,  so  he  had  called  in  two  of  his  subalterns  to  assist  in  the 
pleasant  duty  of  being  attentive  to  the  infantry  ladies,  and  just  now, 
at  11.45  P.M.,  he  was  wondering  if  Lieutenant  Perry  had  not  too  liter- 
ally construed  his  instructions,  for  that  young  gentleman  was  devoting 
himself  to  Mrs.  Belknap  in  a  manner  so  marked  as  to  make  the  cap- 
tain, her  lawful  lord  and  master,  manifestly  uneasy. 

Mrs.  Belknap,  however,  seemed  to  enjoy  the  situation  immensely. 
She  was  a  pretty  woman  at  most  times,  as  even  her  rivals  admitted. 
She  was  a  beautiful  woman  at  all  times,  was  the  verdict  of  the  officers 
of  the  regiment  when  they  happened  to  speak  of  the  matter  among 
themselves.  She  was  dark,  with  lustrous  eyes  and  sweeping  lashes, 
with  coral  lips  and  much  luxuriance  of  tress,  and  a  way  of  glancing 
sideways  from  under  her  heavily-fringed  eyelids  that  the  younger  and 
more  impressionable  men  found  quite  irresistible  when  accorded  the 
rare  luxury  of  a  Ute-a-tHe.  Belknap  was  a  big  and  boisterous  man  ; 
Mrs.  Belknap  was  small  in  stature,  and  soft — very  soft — of  voice.  Bel- 
knap was  either  brusquely  repellent  or  oppressively  cordial  in  manner ; 
Mrs.  Belknap  was  either  gently  and  exasperatingly  indifferent  to  those 
whom  she  did  not  care  to  attract,  or  caressingly  sweet  to  those  whose 

761 


752  DVNRAVEN  RANCH. 

attentions  she  desired.  In  their  own  regiment  the  young  officers  soon 
found  that  unless  they  wished  to  be  involved  in  an  unpleasantness  with 
Belknap  it  was  best  to  be  only  very  moderately  devoted  to  his  pretty  wife, 
and  those  to  whom  an  unpleasantness  with  the  big  captain  might  have 
had  no  terrors  of  consequence  were  deterred  by  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Bel- 
knap's devotee  among  the  "youngsters"  had  invariably  become  an 
object  of  coldness  and  aversion  to  the  other  dames  and  damsels  of  the 
garrison.  Very  short-lived,  therefore,  had  been  the  little  flirtations 
that  sprang  up  from  time  to  time  in  those  frontier  posts  wherein  Cap- 
tain and  Mrs.  Belknap  were  among  the  chief  ornaments  of  society ; 
but  now  matters  seemed  to  be  taking  other  shape.  From  the  very  day 
that  handsome  Ned  Perry  dismounted  in  front  of  Belknap's  quarters 
and  with  his  soldierly  salute  reported  to  the  then  commanding  officer 
that  Colonel  Brainard  and  his  battalion  of  cavalry  would  arrive  in 
the  course  of  two  or  three  hours,  Mrs.  Belknap  had  evinced  a  con- 
tentment in  his  society  and  assumed  an  air  of  quasi-proprietorship  that 
served  to  annoy  her  garrison  sisters  more  than  a  little.  For  the  time 
being  all  the  cavalrymen  were  bachelors,  either  by  actual  rank  or  "  by 
brevet,"  as  none  of  the  ladies  of  the  — th  accompanied  the  battalion  on 
its  march,  and  none  were  expected  until  the  stations  of  the  regiment  in 
its  new  department  had  been  definitely  settled.  The  post  surgeon,  too, 
was  living  a  life  of  single  blessedness  as  the  early  spring  wore  on,  for 
his  good  wife  had  betaken  herself,  with  the  children,  to  the  distant  East 
as  soon  as  the  disappearance  of  the  winter's  snows  rendered  staging 
over  the  hard  prairie  roads  a  matter  of  no  great  danger  or  discom- 
fort. 

It  was  the  doctor  himself  who,  seated  in  an  easy-chair  at  the  end 
of  the  veranda,  first  called  the  colonel's  attention  to  Perry's  devotional 
attitude  at  Mrs.  Belknap's  side.  She  was  reclining  in  a  hammock,  one 
little,  slippered  foot  occasionally  touching  the  floor  and  imparting  a 
gentle,  swinging  motion  to  the  affiu'r,  and  making  a  soothing  swish- 
swish  of  skirts  along  the  matting  underneath.  Her  jewelled  hands 
looked  very  slender  and  fragile  and  white  as  they  gleamed  in  the  soft 
light  that  shone  from  the  open  windows  of  the  parlor.  They  were 
busied  in  straightening  out  the  kinks  in  the  gold  cord  of  his  forage-cap 
and  in  rearranging  a  little  silken  braid  and  tassel  that  was  fastened  in 
clumsy,  man-like  fashion  to  one  of  the  buttons  at  the  side ;  he,  seated 
in  a  camp-chair,  was  bending  forward  so  that  his  handsome,  shapely 
head  was  only  a  trifle  higher  than  hers,  and  the  two — hers  so  dark 
and  rich  in  coloring,  his  so  fair  and  massive  and  strong — came  rather 
too  close  together  for  the  equanimity  of  Captain  Belknap,  who  had 
essayed  to  take  a  hand  at  whist  in  the  parlor.  One  or  two  of  the 
ladies,  also,  were  silent  observers  of  the  scene, — silent  as  to  the  scene 
because,  being  in  conversation  at  the  time  with  brother  officers  of  Lieu- 
tenant Perry,  they  were  uncertain  as  yet  how  comments  on  his  grow- 
ing flirtation  might  be  received.  That  their  eyes  should  occasionally 
wander  towards  the  hammock  and  then  glance  with  sympathetic  signifi- 
cance at  those  of  some  fair  ally  and  intimate  was  natural  enough.  But 
when  it  became  presently  aj)})arent  that  Mrs.  Belknap  was  actually  unfast- 
ening the  little  silken  braid  that  had  hung  on  Ned  Perry's  cap  ever  since 


DUN  RAVEN  RANCH.  753 

the  day  of  his  arrival, — all  the  while,  too,  lookiug  shyly  up  in  his  eyes 
as  her  fingers  worked  ;  when  it  was  seen  that  she  presently  detached  it 
from  the  button  and  then,  half  hesitatingly,  but  evidently  in  compli- 
ance with  his  wishes,  handed  it  to  him ;  when  he  was  seen  to  toss  it 
carelessly — even  contemptuously — away  and  then  bend  down  lower,  as 
though  gazing  into  her  shaded  eyes, — Mrs.  Lawrence  could  stand  it  no 
longer. 

"  Mr.  Graham,"  said  she,  "  isn't  your  friend  Mr.  Perry  something 
of  a  flirt?" 

"  Who  ? — Ned  ?"  asked  Mr.  Graham,  in  well-feigned  amaze  and 
with  sudden  glance  towards  the  object  of  the  inquiry.  "  How  on  earth 
should  I  know  anything  about  it  ?  Of  course  you  do  not  seek  expert 
testimony  in  asking  me.  He  tries,  I  suppose,  to  adapt  himself  to  cir- 
cumstances.    But  why  do  you  ask  ?" 

"  Because  I  see  that  he  has  been  inducing  Mrs.  Belknap  to  take  off 
that  little  tassel  on  the  button  of  his  cap.  He  has  worn  it  when  off 
duty  ever  since  he  came ;  and  we  supposed  it  was  something  he  cher- 
ished ;  I  know  she  did." 

Graham  broke  forth  in  a  peal  of  merry  laughter,  but  gave  no  further 
reply,  for  just  then  the  colonel  and  the  doctor  left  their  chairs,  and, 
sauntering  over  to  the  hammock,  brought  mighty  relief  to  Belknap  at 
the  whist-table  and  vexation  of  spirit  to  his  pretty  wife.  The  flirta- 
tion was  broken  up  at  a  most  interesting  point,  and  Perry,  rising  sud- 
denly, came  over  and  joined  Mrs.  Lawrence. 

If  she  expected  to  see  him  piqued  or  annoyed  at  the  interruption 
and  somewhat  perturbed  in  manner,  she  was  greatly  mistaken.  Nothing 
could  have  been  more  sunshiny  and  jovial  than  the  greeting  he  gave 
her.  A  laughing  apology  to  Graham  for  spoiling  his  Ute-d,-tMe  was 
accomplished  in  a  moment,  and  then  down  by  her  side  he  sat  and 
plunged  into  a  merry  description  of  his  experiences  at  dinner,  where 
he  had  been  placed  next  to  the  chaplain's  wife  on  the  one  hand,  and 
she  had  been  properly  aggrieved  at  his  attentions  to  Mrs.  Belknap  on 
the  other. 

"  You  must  remember  that  Mrs.  Wells  is  a  very  strict  Presbyterian, 
Mr.  Perry ;  and,  for  that  matter,  none  of  us  have  seen  a  dinner  such 
as  the  colonel  gave  us  this  evening  for  ever  and  ever  so  long.  We  are 
quite  unused  to  the  ways  of  civilization ;  whereas  you  have  just  come 
from  the  East — and  long  leave.  Perhaps  it  is  the  fashion  to  be  all 
devotion  to  one's  next-door  neighbor  at  dinner." 

"  Not  if  she  be  as  repellent  and  venerable  as  Mrs.  Wells,  I  assure 
you.  Why,  I  thought  she  would  have  been  glad  to  leave  the  table 
when,  after  having  refused  sherry  and  Pontet-Canet  for  upwards  of  an 
hour,  her  glass  was  filled  with  champagne  when  she  happened  to  be 
looking  the  other  way." 

"  It  is  the  first  dinner  of  the  kind  she  has  ever  seen  here,  Mr. 
Perry,  and  I  don't  suppose  either  Mr.  or  Mrs.  Wells  has  been  up  so 
late  before  in  years.  He  would  have  enjoyed  staying  and  watching 
whist,  but  she  carried  him  off  almost  as  soon  as  we  left  the  table. 
Our  society  has  been  very  dull,  you  know, — only  ourselves  at  the  post 
all  this  last  year,  and  nobody  outside  of  it." 


754  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

"  Oue  would  suppose  that  with  all  this  magnificent  cattle-range 
there  would  be  some  congenial  people  ranching  near  you.  Are  there 
none  at  all  ?" 

"  Absolutely  none  !  There  are  some  ranches  down  in  the  "Washita 
country,  but  only  one  fine  one  near  us  ;  and  that  might  as  well  be  on 
the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic.  No  one  from  there  ever  comes  here ; 
and  Dr.  Quin  is  the  only  living  soul  in  the  garrison  who  ever  got 
within  the  walls  of  that  ranch.  What  he  saw  there  he  positively 
refuses  to  tell,  despite  all  ourentreaty." 

"You  don't  tell  me  there's  a  ranch  with  a  mystery  here  near 
Rossiter !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Perry,  with  sudden  interest. 

"  Why,  I  do,  indeed  !  Is  it  possible  you  have  been  here  two  whole 
weeks  and  haven't  heard  of  Dunraven  Ranch  ?" 

"  I've  heard  there  was  such  a  thing ;  I  saw  it  from  a  distance  when 
out  hunting  the  other  day.  But  what's  the  mystery? — what's  the 
matter  with  it  ?" 

"  That's  what  we  all  want  to  know, — and  cannot  find  out.  Now, 
there  is  an  exploit  worthy  your  energy  and  best  efforts,  Mr.  Perry. 
There  is  a  big,  wealthy,  well-stocked  ranch,  the  finest  homestead  build- 
ings, we  are  told,  in  all  this  part  of  Texas.  They  say  it  is  beautifully 
furnished, — that  it  has  a  fine  library,  a  grand  piano,  all  manner  of 
things  indicative  of  culture  and  refinement  among  its  occupants, — but 
the  owner  only  comes  around  once  or  twice  a  year,  and  is  an  iceberg 
of  an  Englishman.  All  the  people  about  the  ranch  are  English,  too, 
and  the  most  repellent,  boorish,  discourteous  lot  of  men  you  ever  sax<^. 
When  the  Eleventh  were  here  they  did  everything  they  could  to  be 
civil  to  them,  but  not  an  invitation  would  they  accept,  not  one  would 
they  extend ;  and  so  from  that  day  to  this  none  of  the  officers  have 
had  any  intercourse  with  the  people  at  the  ranch,  and  the  soldiers 
know  very  little  more.  Once  or  twice  a  year  some  very  ordinary  look- 
ing men  arrive  who  are  said  to  be  very  distinguished  people — in 
England  ;  but  they  remain  only  a  little  while,  and  go  away  as  suddenly 
as  they  came." 

"  And  you  have  never  seen  any  of  them  ?" 

"  Never,  except  at  a  distance.  Nor  has  any  one  of  the  officers, 
except  Dr.  Quin." 

"  And  you  have  never  heard  anything  about  the  inmates  and  why 
they  keep  up  this  policy  of  exclusiveness  ?" 

"  We  have  heard  all  manner  of  things, — some  of  them  wildly 
romantic,  some  mysteriously  tragic,  and  all  of  them,  probably,  absurd 
At  all  events,  Captain  Lawrence  has  told  me  he  did  not  wish  me  to 
repeat  what  I  had  heard,  or  to  be  concerned  in  any  way  with  the 
stories  afloat :  so  you  must  ask  somebody  else.  Try  the  doctor.  To 
change  the  subject,  Mr,  Perry,  I  see  you  have  lost  that  mysterious 
little  silken  braid  and  tassel  you  wore  on  your  cap-button.  I  fancied 
there  was  some  romance  attached  to  it,  and  now  it  is  gone." 

Perry  laughed,  his  blue  eyes  twinkling  with  fun  :  "  If  I  will  tell 
you  how  and  where  I  got  that  tassel,  will  you  tell  me  what  you  have 
heard  about  Dunraven  Ranch  ?" 

"I  cannot,  unless  Captain  Lawrence  withdraws   his   prohibition. 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  755 

Perhaps  he  will,  though ;  for  I  think  it  was  only  because  he  was  tired 
of  hearing  all  our  conjectures  and  theories." 

"  Well,  will  you  tell  me  if  I  can  induce  the  captain  to  say  he  has 
no  objection  ?"  persisted  Perry. 

"  I  will  to-morrow, — if  you  will  tell  me  about  the  tassel  to- 
night." 

"  Is  it  a  positive  promise  ? — You  will  tell  me  to-morrow  all  you 
have  heard  about  Dunraven  Ranch  if  I  will  tell  you  to-night  all  I 
know  about  the  tassel  ?" 
"  Yes, — a  promise." 

"Very  well,  then.  You  are  a  witness  to  the  compact,  Graham. 
Now  for  my  confession.  I  have  worn  that  tassel  ever  since  our 
parting  ball  at  Fort  Riley.  That  is  to  say,  it  has  been  fastened  to 
that  button  ever  since  the  ball  until  to-night;  but  Fve  been  mighty 
careful  not  to  wear  that  cap  on  any  kind  of  duty." 

"And  yet  you  let  Mrs.  Belknap  take  it  oif  to-night?" 
"  Why  shouldn't  I  ?     There  was  no  sentiment  whatever  attached 
to  it.     I  haven't  the  faintest  idea  whose  it  was,  and  only  tied  it  there 
for  the  fun  of  the  thing  and  to  make  Graham,  here,  ask  questions." 

"  Mr.  Perry  !"  gasped  Mrs.  Lawrence.  "  And  do  you  mean  that 
Mrs.  Belkuap  knows? — that  you  told  her  what  you  have  just  told 
me?" 

•  "  Well,  no,"  laughed  Perry.  "  I  fancy  Mrs.  Belknap  thinks  as 
you  thought, — that  it  was  a  gage  d'amour.  Halloo !  look  at  that 
light  away  out  there  across  the  prairie.     What  can  that  be  ?" 

Mrs.  Lawrence  rose  suddenly  to  her  feet  and  gazed  southeastward 
in  the  direction  in  which  the  young  officer  pointed.  It  was  a  lovely, 
starlit  night.  A  soft  wind  was  blowing  gently  from  the  south  and 
bearing  with  it  the  fragrance  of  spring  blossoms  and  far-away  flowerets. 
Others,  too,  had  arisen,  attracted  by  Perry's  sudden  exclamation.  Mrs. 
Belknap  turned  languidly  in  her  hammock  and  glanced  over  her 
pretty  white  shoulder.  The  colonel  followed  her  eyes  with  his  and 
gave  a  start  of  surprise.  The  doctor  turned  slowly  and  composedly 
and  looked  silently  towards  the  glistening  object,  and  then  upon  the 
officers  of  the  cavalry  there  fell  sudden  astonishment. 

"  What  on  earth  could  that  have  been  ?"  asked  the  colonel.  "  It 
gleamed  like  the  head-light  of  a  locomotive,  away  down  there  in  the 
valley  of  the  Monee,  then  suddenly  went  out." 

"  Be  silent  a  moment,  and  watch,"  whispered  Mrs.  Lawrence  to 
Perry.     "  You  will  see  it  again  ;  and — watch  the  doctor." 

Surely  enough,  even  as  they  were  all  looking  about  and  comment- 
ing on  the  strange  apparition,  it  suddenly  glared  forth  a  second  time, 
shining  full  and  lustrous  as  an  unclouded  planet,  yet  miles  away 
beyond  and  above  the  fringe  of  cottonwoods  that  wound  southeast- 
ward with  the  little  stream.  Full  half  a  minute  it  shone,  and  then, 
abruptly  as  before,  was  hidden  from  sight. 

Perry  was  about  starting  forward  to  join  the  colonel,  when  a  little 
hand  was  laid  upon  his  arm. 

"  Wait :  once  more  you'll  see  it,"  she  whispered.  "  Then  take  me 
in  to  Captain  Lawrence.     Do  you  see  that  the  doctor  is  leaving  ?" 


756  DUN  RAVEN  RANCH. 

Without  saying  a  word  to  any  one,  the  post  surgeon  had  very 
quietly  withdrawn  from  the  group  on  the  veranda.  He  coukl  not  well 
leave  by  the  front  gate  without  attracting  attention ;  but  he  strolled 
leisurely  into  the  hall,  took  up  a  book  that  lay  on  the  table,  and  passed 
through  the  group  of  officers  seated  smoking  and  chatting  there,  entered 
the  sitting-room  on  the  south  side  of  the  hall, — the  side  opposite  the 
parlor  where  the  whist-game  was  in  progress, — and  there  he  was  lost 
to  sight. 

A  third  time  the  bright  light  burst  upon  the  view  of  the  gazers.  A 
third  time,  sharply  and  suddenly  it  disappeared.  Then  for  a  moment 
all  was  silence  and  watchfulness ;  but  it  came  no  more. 

Perry  looked  questioningly  in  his  companion's  face.  She  had  turned 
a  little  white,  and  he  felt  sure  that  she  was  shivering. 

"  Are  you  cold  ?"  he  asked  her,  gently. 

"  No, — not  that ;  but  I  hate  mysteries,  after  what  I've  heard,  and 
we  haven't  seen  that  light  in  ever  so  long.  Come  here  to  the  corner 
one  moment."  And  she  led  him  around  to  the  other  flank  of  the  big 
wooden,  barrack-like  residence  of  the  commanding  officer. 

"  Look  up  there,"  she  said,  pointing  to  a  dark  window  under  the 
peaked  dormer  roof  of  the  large  cottage  to  the  south.  "  That  is  the 
doctor's  house." 

In  a  few  seconds  a  faint  gleam  seemed  to  creep  through  the  slats. 
Then  the  slats  themselves  were  thrown  wide  open,  a  white  shade  \\%s 
lowered,  and,  with  the  rays  behind  it  growing  brighter  every  instant,  a 
broad  white  light  shone  forth  over  the  roof  of  the  veranda.  Another 
moment,  and  footsteps  were  heard  along  the  doctor's  porch, — footsteps 
that  presently  approached  them  along  the  grass. 

"  Come,"  she  said,  plucking  at  his  sleeve, — "  come  away  :  it  is  the 
doctor." 

"  For  what  reason  ?"  he  answered.  "  That  would  seem  like  hiding. 
No,  Mrs.  Lawrence,  let  us  stay  until  he  comes." 

But  the  doctor  passed  them  with  brief  and  courteous  salutation, — 
spoke  of  the  beauty  of  the  night  and  the  balm  of  the  summery  air, — 
and  went  in  again  by  the  main  door  to  the  colonel's  quarters. 

Then  Perry  turned  to  his  partner  :  "  Well,  Mrs.  Lawrence,  what 
does  it  all  mean?     Is  this  part  of  what  you  had  to  tell  me?" 

"Don't  ask  me  now.  I — I  did  not  want  to  see  what  we  have  seen, 
but  I  had  heard  queer  stories  and  could  not  believe  them.  Take  me 
in  to  Captain  Lawrence,  please.  And,  Mr.  Perry,  you  won't  speak  of 
this  to  any  one,  will  you  ?  Indeed,  if  I  had  known,  I  would  not  have 
come  out  here  for  the  world ;  but  I  didn't  believe  it,  even  when  she 
went  away  and  took  the  children." 

"  Who  went  away  ?" 

"  Mrs.  Quin, — the  doctor's  wife.  And  she  was  such  a  sweet  woman, 
and  so  devoted  to  him." 

"  Well,  pardon  me,  Mrs.  Lawrence,  I  don't  see  through  this  thing 
at  all.  Do  you  mean  that  the  doctor  has  anything  to  do  with  the 
mystery  ?" 

She  bowed  her  head  as  they  turned  back  to  the  house :  "  I  must  not 
tell  you  any  more  to-night.     You  will  be  sure  to  hear  something  of  it 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  757 

all,  here.     Everybody  on  the  piazza  saw  the  lights,  and  all  who  were 
here  before  you  came  knew  what  they  meant." 

"  What  were  they  ?" 

"  Signals,  of  some  kind,  from  Dunraven  Ranch." 

II. 

Ned  Perry  hated  reveille  and  morning  stables  about  as  vehemently 
as  was  possible  to  a  young  fellow  who  was  in  other  respects  thoroughly 
in  love  with  his  profession.  A  fairer  type  of  the  American  cavalry 
officer,  when  once  he  got  in  saddle  and  settled  down  to  business,  one 
would  hardly  ask  to  find.  Tall,  athletic,  slender  of  build,  with  frank, 
laughing  blue  eyes,  curly,  close-cropped,  light-brown  hair,  and  a  twirl- 
ing moustache  that  was  a  source  of  inexpressible  delight  to  its  owner 
and  of  some  envy  to  his  brother  subalterns,  Mr.  Perry  was  probably 
the  best-looking  of  the  young  officers  who  marched  wdth  the  battalion 
to  this  far-away  station  on  the  borders  of  the  Llano  Estacado.  He 
had  been  ten  years  in  service,  counting  the  four  he  spent  as  a  cadet, 
had  just  won  his  silver  bar  as  the  junior  first-lieutenant  of  the  regi- 
ment, was  full  to  the  brim  of  health,  energy,  animal  spirits,  and  fun, 
and,  barring  a  few  duns  and  debts  in  his  earlier  experiences,  had  never 
known  a  heavier  care  in  the  world  than  the  transient  and  ephemeral 
anxiety  as  to  whether  he  would  be  called  up  for  recitation  on  a  subject 
he  had  not  so  much  as  looked  at,  or  "  hived"  absent  from  a  roll-call  he 
had  lazily  slept  through.  Any  other  man,  his  comrades  said,  would 
have  been  spoiled  a  dozen  times  over  by  the  petting  he  had  received 
from  both  men  and  women;  but  there  was  something  essentially  sweet 
and  genial  about  his  nature, — something  "  lacking  in  guile  about  his 
perceptions,"  said  a  cynical  old  captain  of  the  regiment, — and  a  jovial, 
sunshiny  way  of  looking  upon  the  world  as  an  Eden,  all  men  and  all 
women  as  friends,  and  the  Army  as  the  profession  above  all  others,  and 
these  various  attributes  combined  to  make  him  popular  with  his  kind 
and  unusually  attractive  to  the  opposite  sex.  As  a  cadet  he  had  been 
perpetually  on  the  verge  of  dismissal  because  of  the  appalling  array  of 
demerits  he  could  roll  up  against  his  name ;  and  yet  the  very  officers 
who  jotted  down  the  memoranda  of  his  sins — omission  and  commis- 
sion— against  the  regulations  were  men  who  openly  said  he  "  had  the 
making  of  one  of  the  finest  soldiers  in  the  class."  As  junior  second- 
lieutenant — "  plebe" — of  the  regiment,  he  had  been  welcomed  by  every 
man  from  the  colonel  down,  and  it  was  considered  particularly  rough 
that  he  should  have  to  go  to  such  a  company  as  Captain  Canker's, 
because  Canker  was  a  man  who  never  got  along  with  any  of  his 
juniors ;  but  there  was  something  so  irrepressibly  frank  and  contrite 
in  Perry's  boyish  face  when  he  would  appear  at  his  captain's  door  in 
the  early  morning  and  burst  out  with,  ''  By  Jove,  captain  !  I  slept 
through  reveille  again  this  morning,  and  never  got  down  till  stables 
were  nearly  over,"  that  even  that  cross-grained  but  honest  troop-com- 
mander was  disarmed,  and,  though  he  threatened  and  reprimanded,  he 
would  never  punish, — would  never  deny  his  subaltern  the  faintest  privi- 
lege ;  and  when  promotion  took  the  captain  to  another  regiment  he  bade 


758  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

good-by  to  Perry  with  eyes  that  were  suspiciously  wet.  "  Why,  blow  it 
all,  what  do  you  fellows  hate  Canker  so  for  ?"  the  youngster  often  said. 
"  He  ought  to  put  me  in  arrest  time  and  again,  but  he  won't.  Blamed 
if  I  don't  put  myself  in  arrest,  or  confine  myself  to  the  limits  of  the 
post,  or  do  something,  to  cut  all  this  going  to  town  and  hops  and  such 
things.  Then  I  can  stick  to  the  troop  like  wax  and  get  up  at  reveille ; 
but  if  I'm  out  dancing  till  two  or  three  in  tlie  morning  it's  no  use,  I 
tell  you :  I  just  canH  wake  up."  Indeed,  it  was  part  of  the  unwritten 
records  of  the  — th  that  while  at  Riley  and  having  very  sociable  times, 
Ned  Perry  actually  declined  invitations,  cooped  himself  up  in  gar- 
rison, and  wore  metaphorical  sackcloth  and  ashes,  for  a  whole  week,  in 
penance  for  certain  neglects  of  duty  brought  about  by  the  presence 
of  a  bevy  of  pretty  girls.  It  was  not  until  Canker  went  to  him  in 
person  and  virtually  ordered  him  out  that  Perry  could  be  induced  to 
appear  at  the  party  given  in  farewell  to  two  of  the  prettiest,  who  were 
to  leave  for  the  Eiist  on  the  following  day. 

And  yet  he  was  a  disappointment  in  a  certain  way.  It  was  always 
predicted  of  Ned  Perry  that  he  would  be  "  married  and  done  for"  within 
a  year  of  his  graduation.  Every  new  face  in  the  five  years  that  followed 
revived  the  garrison  prophecy,  "  Now  he's  gone,  sure !"  but,  however 
devoted  he  might  seem  to  the  damsel  in  question,  however  restless  and 
impatient  he  might  be  when  compelled  by  his  duties  to  absent  himself 
from  her  side,  however  promising  to  casual  observers — perchance  to  the 
damsel  herself — might  be  all  the  surface-indications,  the  absolute  frank- 
ness with  which  he  proclaimed  his  admiration  to  every  listener,  and  the 
fact  that  he  "  had  been  just  so  with  half  a  dozen  other  girls,"  enabled 
the  cooler  heads  of  the  regiment  to  decide  that  the  time  had  not  yet 
come, — or  at  least  the  woman. 

"  I  do  wish,"  said  Mrs.  Turner,  "  that  Mr.  Perry  would  settle  on 
somebody,  because,  just  so  long  as  he  doesn't,  it  is  rather  hard  to  tell 
whom  he  belongs  to."  And,  as  Mrs.  Turner  had  long  been  a  reigning 
belle  among  the  married  women  of  the  — th,  and  one  to  whom  the 
young  officers  were  always  expected  to  show  much  attention,  her  whim- 
sical way  of  describing  the  situation  was  readily  understood. 

But  here  at  the  new  station — at  far-away  Rossiter — matters  were 
taking  on  a  new  look.  To  begin  with,  the  wives  of  the  officers  of  the 
cavalry  battalion  had  not  joined,  none  of  the  ladies  of  the  — th  were 
here,  and  none  would  be  apt  to  come  until  the  summer's  scouting-work 
was  over  and  done  with.  The  ladies  of  the  little  battalion  of  infantry 
were  here,  and,  though  there  were  no  maiden  sisters  or  cousins  yet  at  the 
post  (rest  assured  that  more  than  one  was  already  summoned),  they 
were  sufficient  in  number  to  enliven  the  monotony  of  garrison  life  and 
sufficiently  attractive  to  warrant  all  the  attention  they  cared  to  receive. 
It  was  beginning  to  be  garrison  chat  that  if  Ned  Perry  had  not  "  settled 
on  somebody"  as  the  ultimate  object  of  his  entire  devotion,  somebody 
had  settled  on  him,  and  that  was  pretty  Mrs.  Belknap. 

And  though  Ned  Perry  hated  reveille  and  morning  stables,  as  has 
been  said,  and  could  rarely  "  take  his  week"  without  making  one  or 
more  lapses,  here  he  was  this  beautiful  May  morning  out  at  daybreak 
when  it  was  his  junior's  tour  of  duty,  and  wending  his  way  with  that 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  759 

youngster  out  to  the  line  of  cavalry  stables,  booted  and  spurred  and 
equipped  for  a  ride. 

The  colonel  had  listened  with  some  surprise  to  his  request,  proffered 
just  as  the  party  was  breaking  up  the  night  before,  to  be  absent  from 
garrison  a  few  hours  the  following  morning. 

"But  we  have  battalion  drill  at  nine  o'clock,  Mr.  Perry,  and  I 
need  you  there,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  I'll  be  back  in  time  for  that,  sir.  I  wanted  to  be  off  three 
hours  or  so  before  breakfast." 

The  colonel  could  not  help  laughing.  "  Of  course  you  can  go, — go 
wherever  you  like  at  those  hours,  when  you  are  not  on  guard ;  but  I 
never  imagined  you  would  want  to  get  up  so  early." 

"  Neither  I  would,  colonel,  but  I've  been  interested  in  something  I 
heard  about  this  ranch  down  the  Monee,  and  thought  I'd  like  to  ride 
down  and  look  at  it." 

"  Go  ahead,  by  all  means,  and  see  whether  those  lights  came  from 
there.  It  made  me  think  of  a  play  I  once  saw, — the  *  Colleen  Bawn,' — 
where  a  fellow's  sweetheart  signalled  across  the  lake  by  showing  a  light 
in  her  cottage  window  just  that  way,  three  times,  and  he  answered  by 
turning  out  the  lights  in  his  room.  Of  course  the  distance  wasn't  any- 
thing like  this ;  and  there  was  no  one  here  to  turn  down  any  light 

Eh  !  what  did  you  say  ?" 

"I  beg  pardon,  colonel.  I  didn't  mean  to  interrupt,"  put  in  a 
gentle  voice  at  his  elbow,  while  a  little  hand  on  Perry's  arm  gave  it  a 
sudden  and  vigorous  squeeze,  "  but  Captain  Lawrence  has  called  me 
twice, — he  will  not  re-enter  after  lighting  his  cigar, — and  I  must  say 
good-night." 

"Oh!  good-night,  Mrs.  Lawrence.  I'm  sorry  you  go  so  early. 
We  are  going  to  reform  you  all  in  that  respect  as  soon  as  we  get  fairly 
settled.  Here's  Perry,  now,  would  sit  up  and  play  whist  with  me  an 
hour  yet." 

"  Not  this  night,  colonel.  He  has  promised  to  walk  home  with  us" 
(another  squeeze),  "  and  go  he  must,  or  be  a  faithless  escort.  Good- 
night.    We've  had  such  a  lovely,  lovely  time." 

And  Ned  Perry,  dazed,  went  with  her  to  the  gate,  where  Captain 
Lawrence  was  awaiting  them.     She  had  barely  time  to  murmur, — 

"  You  were  just  on  the  point  of  telling  him  about  the  doctor's 
lights.  I  cannot  forgive  myself  for  being  the  means  of  your  seeing 
it ;  but  keep  my  confidence,  and  keep — this,  until  everybody  is  talking 
about  it :  it  will  come  soon  enough." 

Naturally,  Mr.  Perry  went  home  somewhat  perturbed  in  spirit  and 
all  alive  with  conjecture  as  to  what  these  things  could  mean.  The  first 
notes  of  "  assembly  of  the  trumpeters" — generally  known  as  "  first  call" 
— roused  him  from  his  sleep,  and  by  the  time  the  men  marched  out  to 
stables  he  had  had  his  plunge-bath,  a  vigorous  rub,  and  a  chance  to 
think  over  his  plans  before  following  in  their  tracks,  dressed  for  his 
ride.  The  astonishment  of  Lieutenant  Parke,  the  junior  of  the  troop, 
was  something  almost  too  deep  for  words  when  Perry  came  bounding 
to  his  side. 

"  What  on  earth  brings  you  out,  Ned  ?"  was  his  only  effort. 


760  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

"  Going  for  a  gallop, — down  the  Monce  :  that's  all.  I  haven't  had 
a  freshener  for  a  week." 

"  Gad  !  we  get  exercise  enough  at  morniug  drill,  one  would  think, 

and  our  horses  too.    Oh  ! "    And  Mr.  Parke  stopped  suddenly.    It 

flashed  across  him  that  perhaps  Perry  was  going  riding  with  a  lady 
friend  and  the  hour  was  her  selection.  If  so,  'twas  no  business  of  his, 
and  remarks  were  uncalled  for.  Accejjting  this  as  the  one  possible 
explanation  of  Perry's  abnormal  early  rising,  he  curbed  his  tongue, 
and  Perry,  absorbed  in  his  own  projects  and  thinking  of  anything  but 
what  was  passing  through  his  comrade's  brain,  strode  blithely  over  the 
springy  turf,  saying  nothing  further  of  his  plan. 

When  he  mounted  and  rode  away  from  the  stable  Mr.  Parke  was 
Outside  at  the  picket-rope,  and  busily  occupied  in  his  duties,  supervising 
the  fastening  of  the  fresh,  spirited  horses  at  the  line,  for  the  troop- 
commander  was  a  man  intolerant  of  disorder  of  any  kind,  and  nothing 
more  offended  his  eye  than  the  sight  of  two  or  three  of  his  chargers 
loose  and  plunging  and  kicking  up  and  down  the  stable-yard.  On  the 
other  hand,  there  was  no  one  exploit  that  seemed  to  give  the  younger 
animals  keener  delight, — nothing  that  made  the  perpetrator  a  bigger 
hero  in  his  own  eyes  or  the  object  of  greater  envy  among  his  fellows, — 
and  as  a  consequence  every  device  of  which  equine  ingenuity  was 
master  was  called  into  play,  regularly  as  the  morning  came  around,  to 
break  loose  either  from  the  controlling  hand  of  the  trooper  or  from  the 
taut  and  straining  picket-rope.  The  first  care  of  the  officer  in  charge 
and  the  troop-sergeants  was,  therefore,  to  see  that  all  the  horses  were  se- 
curely lashed  and  knotted.  Not  until  he  had  examined  every  "  halter- 
shank"  was  Mr.  Parke  at  leisure  to  look  around ;  but  when  he  did,  his 
comrade  had  disappeared  from  view. 

The  valley  of  the  Monee,  shallow,  and  bare  of  trees  except  in 
scattered  clumps  along  the  stream,  stretched  away  southeastward  for 
many  a  mile  until  lost  to  sight  in  the  general  level  at  the  horizon. 
Off  to  the  north  and  east  the  prairie  rose  and  fell  in  long,  low  undu- 
lations, so  devoid  of  abrupt  slope  of  any  kind  as  to  seem  absolutely 
flat  to  the  unpractised  eye.  Southward  and  to  the  west  of  the  lonely 
post  the  surface  was  relieved  of  this  monotony  by  occasional  gentle 
rise  and  swell.  Nowhere,  however,  over  the  broad  expanse  was  there 
sign  of  other  vegetation  than  the  gray-green  carpet  of  buffalo-grass, 
and  this  carpet  itself  was  mapped  in  fantastic  pattern,  the  effect  of 
prairie-fires  more  or  less  recent  in  occurrence.  Where  within  a  fort- 
night the  flames  had  swept  over  the  surface,  all  the  bosom  of  the  earth 
was  one  black  barren,  a  land  shunned  for  the  time  being  by  every  living 
thing.  Where  by  sudden  freak  of  wind  or  fall  of  rain  the  scourging 
fires  had  been  checked  in  their  course,  there  lay  broad  wastes  of  virgin 
turf,  already  bleaching  under  the  fierce  Texan  sun  to  the  conventional 
gray  of  the  buffalo-grass.  But  contrasted  with  these  wide  mantles  of 
black  and  gray — contrasting  sharply,  too,  because  never  blending — 
every  mile  or  so  were  sudden  patches  of  bright  and  lively  green  ;  and 
this  was  the  hue  of  the  sturdy  young  grass  peeping  up  through  the 
wastes  that  the  flames  had  desolated  late  in  March. 

And  over  this  broad  level,  horizon-bounded,  not  a  moving  object 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  7g| 

could  be  seen.  Far  away,  in  little  groups  of  three  or  four,  black  dots 
of  grazing  cattle  marked  the  plain  ;  and  over  in  the  "  breaks"  of  the 
Monee,  just  beyond  the  fringing  cottonwoods,  two  or  three  herds  of 
Indian  ponies  were  sleepily  cropping  their  morning  meal,  watched  by 
the  little  black  imp  of  a  boy  whose  dirty  red  blanket  made  the  only 
patch  of  color  against  the  southern  landscape.  Later  in  the  day,  when 
the  sun  mounted  high  in  the  heavens  and  the  brisk  westerly  winds  sent 
the  clouds  sailing  swift  across  the  skies,  all  the  broad  prairie  seemed 
in  motion,  for  then  huge  shadows  swept  its  face  with  measured  speed, 
and  distant  cattle  and  neighboring  pony-herd  appeared  as  though  calmly 
and  contentedly  riding  on  a  broad  platform,  Nature's  own  "  observa- 
tion-car," taking  a  leisurely  journey  towards  the  far-away  Pacific. 

But  the  sun  was  only  just  up  as  Mr.  Parke  came  back  from  his 
inspection  of  the  halter-fastenings  and  paused  to  look  across  the  low 
valley.  Far  down  to  the  southeast  the  rays  seemed  glinting  on  some 
bright  objects  clustered  together  within  short  range  of  the  shadowy 
fringe,  and  the  lieutenant  shaded  his  eyes  with  his  gauntlet  and  looked 
fixedly  thitherward  as  he  stood  at  the  stable  door. 

"  Some  new  tinning  down  at  that  English  ranch  they  talk  of,  I 
suppose,"  was  his  explanation  of  the  phenomenon,  and  then,  "  Wonder 
why  Perry  hasn't  ridden  to  cultiv^ate  the  acquaintance  of  those  people 
before  this.  He  was  always  the  first  man  in  the  — th  to  find  out  who 
our  neighbors  were." 

Pondering  over  this  question,  it  occurred  to  Mr.  Parke  that  Perry 
had  said  he  was  going  down  the  Monee  that  morning ;  but  nowhere 
was  there  a  speck  in  sight  that  looked  like  loping  horseman.  To  be 
sure,  the  trail  bore  close  to  the  low  bluffs  that  bounded  the  valley  on 
the  north  by  the  time  one  had  ridden  a  mile  or  so  out  from  the  post. 
He  was  probably  hidden  by  this  slioulder  of  the  prairie,  and  would 
continue  to  be  until  he  reached  the  bend,  five  miles  below.  No  use 
watching  for  him  then.  Besides,  he  might  not  yet  have  started.  Mr. 
Parke  recalled  the  fact  that  he  half  suspected  a  while  ago  that  Ned  was 
going  to  ride — an  early  ante-breakfast  ride — with  a  lady  friend.  Mrs. 
Belknap  had  her  own  horse,  and  was  an  accomplished  equestrienne; 
Mrs.  Lawrence  rode  fairly  well,  and  was  always  glad  to  go,  when 
somebody  could  give  her  a  saddle  and  a  reliable  mount.  There  were 
others,  too,  among  the  ladies  of  the  infantry  garrison  who  were  no 
novices  ci  cheval.  Mr.  Parke  had  no  intention  whatever  of  prying  into 
the  matter.  It  was  simply  as  something  the  officer  in  charge  of  stable- 
duty  was  entitled  to  know  that  he  turned  suddenly  and  called, — 

"  Sergeant  Gwynne  !" 

He  heard  the  name  passed  down  the  dark  interior  of  the  stable  by 
the  men  sweeping  out  the  stalls,  and  the  prompt  and  cheery  reply. 
The  next  instant  a  tall  young  trooper  stepped  forth  into  the  blaze  of 
early  sunlight,  his  right  hand  raised  in  salute,  and  stood  erect  and 
motionless  by  the  lieutenant's  side. 

"  Did  Mr.  Perry  take  an  extra  horse,  sergeant  ?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"  I  thought  possibly  he  meant  to  take  Roland.  He's  the  be^t 
lady's-horse  in  the  troop,  is  he  not  ?" 


762  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  but  Roland  is  at  the  line  now." 

"  Very  well,  then.  That's  all.  I  presume  he  has  just  ridden  down 
to  Dunraven."  And  Mr.  Parke  turned  to  look  once  more  at  the  glint- 
ing objects  down  the  distant  valley.  It  was  a  moment  or  two  before  he 
was  aware  of  the  fact  that  the  sergeant  still  stood  there,  instead  of 
returning  to  his  duties. 

"  I  said  that  was  all,  sergeant :  you  can  go  back  to  your  feeding." 
And  then  Mr.  Parke  turned  in  some  surprise,  for  Sergeant  Gwynne,  by 
long  odds  the  "  smartest"  and  most  soldierly  of  the  non-commissioned 
officers  of  the  cavalry  battalion,  for  the  first  time  in  his  history  seemed 
to  have  forgotten  himself.  Though  his  attitude  had  not  changed,  his 
face  had,  and  a  strange  look  was  in  his  bright  blue  eyes, — a  look  of 
incredulity  and  wonderment  and  trouble  all  combined.  The  lieutenant 
was  fairly  startled  when,  as  though  suddenly  gathering  himself  to- 
gether, the  sergeant  falteringly  asked, — 

"I  beg  pardon,  sir,  but — he  had  ridden — where  f" 

"  Down  to  the  ranch,  sergeant, — that  one  you  can  just  see,  away 
down  the  valley." 

"  I  know,  sir ;  but — the  name  ?" 

"  Dunraven  Ranch." 

For  an  instant  the  sergeant  stood  as  though  dazed,  then,  with  sudden 
effort,  saluted,  faced  about,  and  plunged  into  the  dark  recesses  of  the 
stable. 

III. 

Meantime,  Lieutenant  Perry  was  riding  blithely  down  the  winding 
trail,  totally  unconscious  that  his  movements  were  of  the  faintest  con- 
sequence to  anybody  but  himself,  and  equally  heedless  of  their  being  a 
source  of  speculation.  His  horse  was  one  he  rejoiced  in,  full  of  spirit 
and  spring  and  intelligence;  the  morning  was  beautiful, — -just  cool 
enough  to  be  exhilarating ;  his  favorite  hound,  Bruce,  went  bounding 
over  the  turf  under  the  slopes,  or  ranging  off  through  the  cottonwoods 
along  the  stream,  or  the  shallow,  sandy  arroyos,  where  the  grass  and 
weeds  grew  rank  and  luxuriant.  Every  now  and  then  with  sudden 
rush  and  whir  a  drove  of  prairie-chickens  would  leap  from  their 
covert,  and,  after  vigorous  flapping  of  wings  for  a  few  rods,  would 
go  skimming  restfully  in  long  easy  curve,  and  settle  to  earth  again  a 
hundred  yards  away,  as  though  suddenly  reminded  of  the  fact  that  this 
was  mating-time  and  no  gentleman  would  be  mean  enough  to  shoot  at 
such  a  season.  Every  little  while,  too,  with  prodigious  kicking  of  dust 
and  show  of  heels,  with  eyes  fairly  bulging  out  of  his  feather-brained 
head,  and  tall  lop-ears  laid  flat  on  his  back,  a  big  jack-rabbit  would 
bound  off  into  space,  and  go  tearing  across  the  prairie  in  mad  race  for 
his  threatened  life,  putting  a  mile  between  him  and  the  Monee  before 
he  began  to  realize  that  the  two  quadrupeds  ambling  along  the  distant 
trail  were  obedient  to  the  will  of  that  single  rider,  who  had  no  thought 
to  spare  for  game  so  small.  Some  Indian  ponies,  grazing  across  his 
pathway,  set  back  their  stunted  ears,  and,  cow-like,  refused  to  budge  at 
sight  and  hearing  of  the  big  American  horse;  whereat  a  little  vagabond 
of  a  Cheyenne,  not  ten  years  old  nor  four  feet  high,  set  up  a  shrill 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  763 

chatter  and  screech  and  let  drive  a  few  well-directed  clods  of  turf,  and 
then  showed  his  white  teeth  in  a  grin  as  Perry  sung  out  a  cheery  "  How  ! 
sonny,"  and  spurred  on  through  the  opening  thoroughfare,  heedless  of 
spiteful  pony  looks  or  threatening  heels. 

Perry's  spirits  rose  with  every  rod.  Youth,  health,  contentment, 
all  were  his,  and  his  heart  was  warm  towards  his  fellow-men.  To  the 
best  of  his  reckoning,  he  had  not  an  enemy  or  detractor  in  the  world. 
He  was  all  gladness  of  nature,  all  friendliness,  frankness,  and  cordiality. 
The  toughest  cow-boy  whom  they  had  met  on  the  long  march  down, 
the  most  crabbed  of  the  frontiersmen  they  had  ever  encountered,  was 
never  proof  against  such  sunsliine  as  seemed  to  irradiate  his  face.  He 
would  go  out  of  his  way  at  any  time  to  meet  and  hail  a  fellow-man  upon 
the  prairies,  and  rarely  came  back  without  knowing  all  about  him, — 
where  he  was  from,  whither  he  was  bound,  and  what  were  his  hopes  and 
prospects.  And  as  for  himself,  no  man  was  readier  to  answer  question 
or  to  meet  in  friendliest  and  most  jovial  spirit  the  rough  but  well-meant 
greetings  of  "  the  Plains." 

Being  in  this  frame  of  mind  to  an  extent  even  greater  than  his 
normal  wont,  Mr.  Perry's  eyes  glistened,  and  he  struck  spur  to  hasten 
Nolan's  stride,  when,  far  ahead,  and  coming  towards  him  on  the  trail, 
he  saw  a  horseman  like  himself.  Being  in  this  mood  of  sociability, 
he  was  something  more  than  surprised  to  see  that  all  of  a  sudden  that 
horseman  had  reined  in — a  mere  black  dot  a  mile  away — and  was 
presumably  examining  him  as  he  advanced.  Hostile  Indians  there 
had  been  none  for  many  a  long  month,  "road-agents"  would  have 
starved  in  a  region  where  there  practically  were  no  roads,  cow-boys 
might — and  did — get  on  frolics  and  have  wild  "tears"  at  times,  but 
who  ever  heard  of  their  being  hostile,  man  to  man  ?  Yet  Perry  was 
plainsman  enough  to  tell,  even  at  the  mile  of  distance,  that  the  stranger 
had  halted  solely  to  scrutinize  /i/m,  and,  next,  to  his  vast  astonish- 
ment, that  something  in  his  appearance  had  proved  either  alarming 
or  suspicious,  for  the  horseman  had  turned  abruptly,  plunged  through 
the  timber  and  across  the  stream,  and  in  another  moment,  veering 
that  way  himself  to  see,  Perry  marked  him  fairly  racing  into  the  mouth 
of  a  shallow  ravine,  or  "  break,"  that  entered  the  valley  from  the  south, 
and  there  he  was  lost  to  sight. 

"  What  an  ill-mannered  galoot !"  was  his  muttered  comment,  as  he 
gave  Nolan  brief  chance  to  crop  the  juicy  grass,  while  his  perturbed 
rider  sat  gazing  across  the  stream  in  the  direction  taken  by  the  shy 
horseman.  "  Pve  half  a  mind  to  drop  the  ranch  and  put  out  after 
that  fellow.  That  ravine  can't  go  in  so  very  far  but  what  he  must 
soon  show  up  on  the  level  prairie ;  and  I'll  bet  Nolan  could  run  him 
down,"  After  a  moment's  reflection,  however,  Mr.  Perry  concluded 
that,  as  he  had  come  so  far  and  was  now  nearly  within  rifle-shot  of  the 
mysterious  goal  of  his  morning  ride,  he  might  as  well  let  the  stranger 
go,  and  pushed  ahead,  himself,  for  Dunraven. 

The  stream  bent  southward  just  at  tiie  point  where  he  had  first 
caught  sight  of  the  horseman,  and  around  that  point  he  knew  the 
ranch  to  be.  Very  probably  that  was  one  of  the  ranchmen  of  whom 
Mrs.  Lawrence  had  spoken, — churlish  fellows,  with  a  civil  word  for 


764  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

nobody,  grim  and  repellent.  Why,  certainly  !  That  accounted  for  his 
evident  desire  to  avoid  the  cavalryman ;  but  he  need  not  have  been  in 
such  desperate  haste, — need  not  have  kept  at  such  unapproachable 
bounds,  as  though  he  shunned  even  being  seen.  That  was  the  queer 
thing,  thought  Perry.  He  acted  just  as  though  he  did  not  want  to  be 
recognized.     Perhaps  he'd  been  up  to  some  devilment  at  the  ranch. 

This  thought  gave  spur  to  his  speed,  and  Nolan,  responsive  to  his 
master's  mood,  leaped  forward  along  the  winding  trail  once  more.  The 
point  was  soon  reached  and  turned,  and  the  first  object  that  caught 
Perry's  eye  was  a  long  row  of  stakes  stretching  from  the  cottonwoods 
straight  to  the  south  up  the  gentle  slope  to  the  prairie,  and  indicating 
beyond  all  question  the  presence  there  of  a  stout  and  high  and  impassa- 
ble wire  fence.  There  are  few  things  the  cavalryman  holds  in  meaner 
estimate. 

"  That  marks  the  western  limit,"  thought  Perry  to  himself,^"  and 
doubtless  reaches  miles  away  to  the  south,  from  what  I  hear.  Now, 
where  does  one  enter?" 

A  little  farther  on  he  came  upon  a  trail  leading  from  the  low  bluifs 
to  his  left  hand.  It  crossed  the  winding  bridle-path  on  which  he  rode, 
though  some  of  the  hoof-tracks  seemed  to  join,  and  wheel-tracks  too. 
He  had  marked  that  between  the  fort  and  the  point  no  sign  of  wheel 
appeared :  it  was  a  hoof-trail  and  nothing  more.  Now  a  light  and 
little-travelled  wagon-track  came  in  from  the  north,  and  while  one 
branch  seemed  to  cross  the  Monee  and  to  ascend  the  opposite  slopes 
close  along  the  wire  fence,  the  other  joined  him  and  went  on  down  the 
stream.     This  he  decided  to  follow. 

A  ride  of  a  few  hundred  yards  brought  him  to  a  point  where  a 
shoulder  of  bluif  twisted  the  trail  well  in  towards  the  stream,  and  he, 
thinking  to  cross  and  reconnoitre  on  the  other  shore,  turned  Nolan  in 
that  way,  and  was  suddenly  brought  up  standing  by  the  heaviest  and 
most  forbidding  wire  fence  he  had  ever  seen.  Yes,  there  it  stretched 
away  through  the  cottonwoods,  straight  as  a  die,  back  to  the  angle 
whence  started  the  southward  course  he  first  had  noted,  and,  looking 
down  stream,  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  he  marked  it,  staked  as  though 
by  the  theodolite  itself,  straiglit  as  surveyor  could  make  it,  a  rigid  line 
to  the  southeast.  Sometimes  the  stream  lay  on  one  side,  sometimes  on 
the  other ;  so,  too,  the  cottonwoods ;  but  there,  grim  and  bristling  and 
impassable,  over  five  feet  high,  and  fairly  snarling  with  its  sharp  and 
jagged  teeth,  this  inhuman  barrier  lay  betwixt  him  and  the  lands  of 
Dunraven  Ranch. 

"  Well,"  thought  Perry,  "  I've  often  heard  an  Englishman's  house 
was  his  castle,  but  who  would  have  thought  of  staking  and  wiring  in 
half  a  county — half  a  Texas  county — in  this  hoggish  way?  How  far 
down  is  the  entrance,  anyhow?" 

Following  the  trail,  he  rode  down-stream  a  full  half-mile,  and  still 
there  seemed  no  break.  Nowhere  on  the  other  shore  was  there  sign 
of  bridle-path  leading  up  the  slopes.  Turning  to  his  left  in  some  im- 
patience, he  sent  Nolan  at  rapid  lope  across  the  intervening  "  bottom," 
and  soon  reached  the  bluffs,  whidi  rose  perlia})s  forty  or  fifty  feet  above 
the  stream.     Once  on  the  crest,  the  prairie  stretched  before  him,  north- 


DVNRAVEN  RANCH.  765 

ward,  level  as  a  floor,  until  it  met  the  sky ;  but  it  was  southward  he 
longed  to  look,  and  thither  quickly  turned.  Yes,  there  it  lay, — Dun- 
raven  Ranch,  in  all  its  lonely  majesty.  From  where  he  gazed  the 
nearest  building  stood  a  good  long  mile  away.  That  it  was  the  home- 
stead he  divined  at  once,  for  a  broad  veranda  ran  around  the  lower 
story,  and  white  curtains  were  visible  at  the  dormer-windows  of  the 
upper  floor.  Back  of  it  and  on  the  eastern  flank  were  other  buildings, 
massive-looking,  single-storied  affairs, — evidently  stables,  storehouses, 
and  corrals.  There  was  a  tall  windmill  there, — an  odd  sight  in  so 
remote  a  region, — and  a  big  water-tank.  Perry  wondered  how  it  ever 
got  there.  Then  at  the  southwest  angle  was  a  building  that  looked  like 
an  oflice  of  some  kind.  He  could  see  horses  tethered  there,  and  what 
seemed  to  be  human  figures  moving  about.  Beyond  it  all,  to  the  east 
and  south,  were  herds  of  grazing  cattle,  and  here  and  there  in  the  dim 
distance  a  horseman  moved  over  the  prairie.  This  reminded  him  of 
the  stranger  who  had  given  him  the  slip;  and  he  gazed  westward  in 
search  of  him. 

Far  up  the  valley,  between  him  and  the  distant  post,  he  could 
plainly  see  a  black  object  just  descending  the  slopes  from  the  southern 
prairie  to  the  stream.  Not  another  was  in  sight  that  his  practised  eye 
did  not  know  to  be  cattle.  That,  then,  was  his  horseman,  once  more 
going  fort-wards  in  the  valley,  after  having  made  a  three-  or  four-mile 
detour  to  avoid  him.  "Now,  what  sort  of  a  Christian  is  that  fellow?" 
thought  Perry,  as  he  gazed  at  the  distant  speck.  "  Going  to  the  fort, 
too.  By  thunder  !  I'll  find  out  who  he  is,  anyhow.  Now  I'm  going 
to  the  ranch." 

Down  the  slopes  he  rode.  Down  the  winding  trail  once  more  he 
trotted,  peering  through  every  gap  among  the  cottonwoods,  slaking 
Nolan's  thirst  at  a  little  pool  in  the  stream,  and  then,  after  another  long 
half-mile,  he  came  to  a  sudden  turn  to  the  right.  The  road  dipped  and 
twisted  through  the  stream-bed,  rose  to  the  other  side,  wound  through 
the  cottonwoods  and  then  out  on  the  open  turf.  Huzza  !  There  it 
stretched  uj)  the  slopes  straight  away  for  the  south,  straight  through  a 
broad  gap  between  two  heavy  gate-posts  standing  on  the  stake-line  of 
that  rigid  fence.  Nolan  broke  into  a  brisk  canter  and  gave  a  neigh  of 
salutation  ;  Perry's  eyes  glistened  with  anticipation  as  he  bent  over  his 
charger's  neck,  keenly  searching  the  odd-looking  structure  growing  on 
his  vision  as  they  neared  the  fence.  Then,  little  by  little,  Nolan's  eager 
stride  shortened  and  grew  choppy.  Another  moment,  and  horse  and 
rider  reined  up  short  in  disappointment.  Between  the  gate-])osts  swung 
a  barrier  of  cobweb  lightness,  slender  and  airy  as  ever  spider  wove,  but 
bristling  with  barbs,  stifle  as  "bullfinch"  and  unyielding  as  steel.  One 
glance  showed  Perry  that  this  inhospitable  gate  was  firmly  locked. 

For  a  moment  he  sat  in  saddle,  studying  the  situation,  while  Nolan 
poked  his  head  over  the  topmost  strand  of  wire  and,  keeping  at  respect- 
ful distance  from  the  glittering  barbs,  gazed  wistfully  over  the  enclosed 
prairie  in  search  of  comrade  quadruped  who  could  tell  him  what  man- 
ner of  place  this  was.  Meantime,  his  rider  was  intently  eying  the 
heavy  padlock  that  was  secured  on  the  inner  side  of  the  gate.  It  was 
square  in  shape,  massive  and  bulky, — something  utterly  unlike  any- 
VoL.  XLII.— 50 


766  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

thing  he  had  ever  seen  among  the  quartermaster's  stores.  Dismount- 
ing, and  holding  Nolan  well  back  from  the  aggressive  fence  with  one 
hand,  he  gingerly  passed  the  other  through  the  spike-fringed  aperture 
and  turned  the  padlock  so  as  to  get  a  better  view.  It  was  of  English 
make,  as  he  surmised,  and  of  strength  sufficient  to  resist  anything  short 
of  a  trip-hammer.  Evidently  no  admission  was  to  be  gained  here,  he 
reasoned  ;  and  yet  it  was  through  here  that  that  horseman  had  come 
but  an  hour  before.  Here  were  the  fresh  hoof-prints  in  the  trail,  and 
it  was  evident  that  the  rider  had  dismounted,  opened  the  gate,  led  his 
horse  through,  closed  and  fastened  it,  then  remounted  and  ridden  away. 
Perry  was  plainsman  enough  to  read  this  from  the  hoof-prints.  Study- 
ing them  carefully,  a  look  of  surprise  came  into  his  face  :  he  bent  down 
and  closely  examined  the  two  or  three  that  were  most  clearly  defined 
upon  the  trail,  then  gave  a  long  whistle  as  a  means  of  expressing  his 
feelings  and  giving  play  to  his  astonishment : 

"  Johnny  Bull  holds  himself  too  high  and  mighty  to  have  any- 
thing to  do  with  us  blarsted  Yankees,  it  seems,  except  when  he  wants 
his  horses  shod.  These  shoes  were  set  at  the  post  blacksmith-shop,  or 
I'm  a  duffer,"  was  the  lieutenant's  verbal  comment.  "  Now,  how  was 
it  done  without  the  quartermaster's  knowing  it  ?  That's  the  cavalry 
shoe !" 

Pondering  over  this  unlooked-for  revelation,  Mr.  Perry  once  more 
mounted,  and  turned  his  disappointed  steed  again  down-stream.  He 
had  determined  to  follow  the  fence  in  search  of  another  opening.  A 
mile  he  rode  among  the  cottonwoods  and  across  low  grassy  points,  and 
still  that  inflexible  barrier  stretched  grimly  between  him  and  the  open 
prairie  to  the  south.  Once,  up  a  long  shallow  "  break,"  he  caught 
sight  of  the  roofs  of  some  of  the  ranch-buildings  full  a  thousand  yards 
away,  and  realized  that  he  had  passed  to  the  east  of  them  and  was 
farther  from  the  goal  of  his  ambition  than  when  he  stood  at  that 
bristling  gate.  At  last,  full  half  a  mile  farther  on,  he  saw  that  a  wire 
fence  ran  southward  again  across  the  prairie,  as  though  marking 
the  eastern  boundary  of  the  homestead-enclosure,  and,  conjecturing 
that  there  was  probably  a  trail  along  that  fence  and  an  opening 
through,  even  if  the  southeastward  line  should  be  found  fenced  still 
farther,  he  sent  Nolan  through  the  Monee  to  the  open  bank  on  the 
northern  side,  cantered  along  until  the  trail  turned  abruptly  southward, 
and,  following  it,  found  himself  once  more  at  the  fence  just  where  the 
heavy  corner-post  stood  deeply  embedded  in  the  soil.  Sure  enough, 
here  ran  another  fence  straight  up  the  gentle  slope  to  the  south,  a  trail 
along  its  eastern  side,  and  a  broad  cattle-gap,  dusty  and  tramped  with 
the  hoofs  of  a  thousand  steers,  was  left  in  the  fence  that,  prolonged 
down-stream,  spanned  the  northern  boundary.  Inside  the  homestead- 
lot  all  was  virgin  turf. 

Following  the  southward  trail,  Perry  rode  briskly  up  the  long 
incline.  It  was  east  of  this  fence  he  had  seen  the  cattle-herds  and 
their  mounted  watchers.  He  was  far  beyond  the  ranch-buildings,  but 
felt  sure  that,  once  well  up  on  the  prairie,  he  could  have  an  uninter- 
rupted view  of  them  and  doubtless  meet  some  of  the  ranch  people  and 
satisfy  himself  what  there  was  in  the  stories  of  their  churlish  and 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  767 

repellent  demeanor.  The  sun  was  climbing  higher  all  this  time,  and 
he,  eager  in  pursuit  of  his  reconnoissance,  gave  little  heed  to  fleeting 
minutes.  If  fair  means  could  accomplish  it,  he  and  Nolan  were 
bound  to  have  acquaintance  with  Dunraven  Ranch. 

Ten  minutes'  easy  lope  brought  him  well  up  on  the  prairie.  There 
— westward  now — was  the  mysterious  clump  of  brown  buildings,  just 
as  far  away  as  when  he  stood,  baffled  and  disappointed,  by  the  gate-way 
on  the  Monee.  Here,  leading  away  towards  the  distant  buildings,  was 
a  bridle-path.  Here  in  the  fence  was  a  gap  just  such  as  he  had  en- 
countered on  the  stream,  and  that  gap  was  barred  and  guarded  by  the 
counterpart  of  the  first  gate  and  firmly  secured  by  a  padlock  that  was 
the  other's  twin.  Mr.  Perry's  comment  at  this  point  of  his  explorations 
was  brief  and  characteristic,  if  not  objectionable.  He  gave  vent  to  the 
same  low  whistle,  half  surprise,  half  vexation,  that  had  comforted  his 
soul  before,  but  supplemented  the  whistle  wath  the  unnecessary  remark, 
«  Well,  I'll  be  damned  !" 

Even  Nolan  entered  his  protest  against  such  incredible  exclusive- 
ness.  Thrusting  his  lean  head  far  over  the  topmost  wire  as  before,  he 
signalled  long  and  shrill, — a  neigh  that  would  have  caught  the  ear  of 
any  horse  within  a  mile, — and  then,  all  alert,  he  waited  for  an  answer. 
It  came  floating  on  the  rising  wind,  a  responsive  call,  a  signal  as  eager 
and  confident  as  his  own,  and  Nolan  and  Nolan's  rider  whirled  quickly 
around  to  see  the  source  from  whence  it  rose.  Four  hundred  yards 
away,  just  appearing  over  a  little  knoll  in  the  prairie,  and  moving 
towards  them  from  the  direction  of  a  distant  clump  of  grazing  cattle, 
another  horse  and  rider  came  trotting  into  hailing-distance ;  and  Perry, 
his  bright  blue  eyes  dilating,  and  Nolan,  his  dainty,  sensitive  ears 
pricked  forward,  turned  promptly  to  meet  and  greet  the  new  arrivals. 

For  fifty  yards  or  so  the  stranger  rode  confidently  and  at  rapid  trot. 
Perry  smilingly  watched  the  out-turned  toes,  the  bobbing,  "  bent-over" 
seat,  and  angular  elbows  that  seemed  so  strange  and  out  of  place  on  the 
broad  Texan  plain.  He  could  almost  see  the  "  crop"  in  the  free  hand, 
and  was  smiling  to  himself  at  the  idea  of  a  "crop"  to  open  wire  gates, 
when  he  became  aware  of  the  fact  that  the  stranger's  mien  had  changed  ; 
confidence  was  giving  place  to  hesitancy,  and  he  was  evidently  checking 
the  rapid  trot  of  his  horse  and  throwing  his  weight  back  on  the  cantle, 
while  his  feet,  thrust  through  to  the  very  heels  in  the  gleaming  steel 
stirrups,  were  braced  in  front  of  the  powerful  shoulders  of  the  bay. 
The  horse  wanted  to  come,  the  rider  plainly  wanted  to  stop.  Another 
moment,  and  Perry  could  see  that  the  stranger  wore  eyeglasses  and  had 
just  succeeded  in  bridging  them  on  his  nose  and  was  glaring  at  him 
with  his  chin  high  in  air.  They  were  within  two  hundred  yards 
of  each  other  by  this  time,  and,  to  Perry's  astonishment,  the  next  thing 
the  stranger  did  was  to  touch  sharply  his  horse  with  barbed  heel, 
whirl  him  spitefully  about,  and  go  bobbing  off  across  the  prairie  at 
lively  canter,  standing  up  in  his  stirrups,  and  bestriding  his  steed  as 
though  his  object  were  not  so  much  a  ride  as  a  game  of  leap-frog. 

It  was  evident  that  he  had  caught  sight  of  Perry  when  Nolan 
neighed,  had  ridden  at  once  to  meet  him,  expecting  to  find  some  one 
connected  with  the  ranch,  and  had  veered  off  in  disgust  the  moment  he 


768  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

was  able  to  recognize  the  uniform  and  horse-equipments  of  the  United 
States  Cavalry. 

IV. 

Sweet-tempered  a  fellow  as  Mr.  Perry  confessedly  was,  there  was 
something  in  the  stranger's  conduct  that  galled  him  inexpressibly.  The 
tenets  of  "  society,"  the  formalities  of  metropolitan  life,  have  no  rec- 
ognition whatsoever  on  the  wide  frontier  when  once  the  confines  of 
the  garrison  are  passed.  Out  on  the  broad  expanse  of  the  Plains  the 
man  who  shuns  the  greeting  of  his  fellow  is  set  down  at  once  as  a 
party  whose  antecedents  are  shadowy  and  whose  character  is  suspicious  ; 
and  never  before  in  his  experience  of  several  years  and  his  wanderings 
from  the  Yellowstone  to  the  Washita  had  Ned  Perry  met  a  frontiers- 
man who  fled  at  sight  of  him,  except  one  horse-thief.  From  his 
handsome  mount,  his  garb,  and  his  general  appearance.  Perry  set  this 
stranger  down  as  one  of  the  Englishmen  residing  at  the  ranch.  It  was 
not  fear  of  arrest  and  capture  that  sent  him  scowling  away  across  the 
prairie ;  it  was  deliberate  intent  to  avoid,  and  this  was,  to  Perry's 
thinking,  tantamount  to  insult.  One  moment  he  gazed  after  the  re- 
treating form  of  the  horseman,  then  clapped  his  forage-cap  firmly 
down  upon  his  head,  shook  free  the  rein,  and  gave  Nolan  the  longed- 
for  word.  Another  instant,  and  with  set  teeth  and  blazing,  angry  eyes 
he  was  thundering  at  headlong  speed,  swooping  down  upon  the  un- 
conscious stranger  in  pursuit.  Before  that  sunburned,  curly-haired, 
bulkily-framed  young  man  had  the  faintest  idea  of  what  was  im- 
pending, Mr.  Perry  was  reining  in  his  snorting  steed  alongside  and 
cuttingly  accosting  him  : 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  my  good  sir,  but  may  I  ask  what  you  mean 
by  trotting  away  when  it  must  have  been  evident  that  I  wanted  to 
speak  with  you  ?" 

The  stranger  turned  slightly  and  coolly  eyed  the  flushed  and  in- 
dignant cavalryman.  They  were  trotting  side  by  side  now,  Nolan 
plunging  excitedly,  but  the  English  horse  maintaining  his  even  stride ; 
and  stronger  contrast  of  type  and  style  one  could  scarcely  hope  to  find. 
In  rough  tweed  shooting-jacket  and  cap,  brown  Bedford  cords  fitting 
snugly  at  the  knee  but  flapping  like  shapeless  bags  from  there  aloft  to 
the  waist,  in  heavy  loatlier  gaiters  and  equally  heavy  leather  gloves,  the 
stocky  figure  of  the  Englishman  had  nothing  of  grace  or  elegance,  but 
was  sturdy,  strong,  and  full  of  that  bui-ly  self-reliance  which  is  so 
characteristic  of  the  race.  Above  his  broad,  stooping  shoulders  were  a 
bull  neck,  reddened  by  the  sun,  a  crop  of  close-curling,  light-brown 
hair,  a  tanned  and  honest  face  lighted  up  by  fearless  gray  eyes  and 
shaded  by  a  thick  and  curling  beard  of  lighter  hue  than  the  hair  of  his 
massive  head.  He  rode  with  the  careless  ease  and  supreme  confidence 
of  the  skilled  horseman,  but  with  that  angularity  of  foot  and  elbow, 
that  roundness  of  back  and  bunching  of  shoulders,  that  incessant  rise 
and  fall  with  every  beat  of  his  horse's  powerful  haunch,  that  the  effect 
was  that  of  neither  security  nor  repose.  His  saddle,  too,  was  the 
long,  flat-seated,  Australian  model,  pig-skin,  with  huge  rounded  leathern 
cushions  circling  in  front  and  over  the  knees,  adding  to  the  cumbrous- 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  769 

ness  of  his  equipment  and  in  no  wise  to  the  comfort ;  but  his  bit  and 
curb-chain  were  of  burnished  steel,  gleaming  as  though  fresh  from  the 
hands  of  some  incomparable  English  groom,  and  the  russet  reins  were 
soft  and  pliable,  telling  of  excellent  stable  management  and  discipline. 
Perry  couldn't  help  admiring  that  bridle,  even  in  his  temporary  fit  of 
indignation. 

As  for  him, — tall,  slender,  elegantly  made,  clothed  in  the  accurately- 
fitting  undress  "  blouse"  of  the  army  and  in  riding-breeches  that  dis- 
played to  best  advantage  the  superb  moulding  of  his  powerful  thighs, 
sitting  like  centaur  well  down  in  the  saddle,  his  feet  and  lower  legs, 
cased  in  natty  riding-boots,  swinging  close  in  behind  the  gleaming 
shoulders  of  his  steed,  erect  as  on  parade,  yet  swaying  with  every  mo- 
tion of  his  horse,  graceful,  gallant,  and  to  the  full  as  powerful  as  his 
burly  companion,  the  advantage  in  appearance  was  all  on  Perry's  side, 
and  was  heightened  by  Nolan's  spirited  action  and  martial  trappings. 
Perry  was  an  exquisite  in  his  soldier  taste,  and  never,  except  on  actual 
campaign,  rode  his  troop-horse  without  his  broidered  saddle-cloth  and 
gleaming  bosses.  All  this,  and  more,  the  Englishman  seemed  quietly 
noting  as,  finally,  without  the  faintest  trace  of  irritability,  with  even  a  sus- 
picion of  humor  twinkling  about  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  he  replied, — 

"  A  fellow  may  do  as  he  likes  when  he's  on  his  own  bailiwick,  I 
suppose." 

"All  the  same,  wherever  I've  been,  from  here  to  Assiniboia,  men 
meet  like  Christians,  unless  they  happen  to  be  road-agents  or  cattle- 
thieves.  What's  more,  I  am  an  officer  of  a  regiment  just  arrived  here, 
and,  from  the  Missouri  down,  there  isn't  a  ranch  along  our  trail  where 
we  were  not  welcome  and  whose  occupants  were  not  '  hail-fellow-well- 
met'  in  our  camps.  You  are  the  first  people  to  shun  us ;  and,  as  that 
fort  yonder  was  built  for  your  protection  in  days  when  it  was  badly 
needed,  I  want  to  know  what  there  is  about  its  garrison  that  is  so  ob- 
noxious to  Dunraven  Ranch, — that's  what  you  call  it,  I  believe  ?" 

"  That's  what— it  is  called." 

"  Well,  here !  I've  no  intention  of  intruding  where  we're  not 
wanted.  I  simply  didn't  suppose  that  on  the  broad  prairies  of  the 
West  there  was  such  a  place  as  a  ranch  where  one  of  my  cloth  was 
unwelcome.  I  am  Mr.  Perry,  of  the  — th  Cavalry,  and  I'm  bound  to 
say  I'd  like  to  know  what  you  people  have  against  us.  Are  you  the 
proprietor  ?" 

"  I'm  not.     I'm  only  an  employee." 

"  Who  is  the  owner?" 

"  He's  not  here  now." 

"  Who  is  here  who  can  explain  the  situation  ?" 

"  Oh,  as  to  that,  I  fancy  I  can  do  it  as  well  as  anybody.  It  is 
simply  because  we  have  to  do  pretty  much  as  you  fellows, — obey  orders. 
The  owner's  orders  are  not  aimed  at  you  any  more  than  anybody  else. 
He  simply  wants  to  be  let  alone.  He  bought  this  tract  and  settled 
here  because  he  wanted  a  place  where  he  could  have  things  his  own 
way, — see  people  whom  he  sent  for  and  nobody  else.  Every  man  in 
his  employ  is  expected  to  stick  to  the  ranch  so  long  as  he  is  on  the  pay- 
roll, and  to  carry  out  his  instructions.     If  he  can't,  he  may  go." 


770  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

"And  your  instructions  are  to  prevent  people  getting  into  the 
ranch  ?" 

"Oh,  hardly  that,  you  know.  We  don't  interfere.  There's  never 
any  one  to  come,  as  a  rule,  and,  when  they  do,  the  fence  seems  to  be 
sufficient." 

"  Amply,  I  should  say ;  and  yet  were  I  to  tell  you  that  I  had  busi- 
ness with  the  proprietor  and  needed  to  ride  up  to  the  ranch,  you  would 
open  the  gate  yonder,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  No  :  I  would  tell  you  that  the  owner  was  away,  and  that  in  his 
absence  I  transacted  all  business  for  him." 

"  Well,  thank  you  for  the  information  given  me,  at  all  events. 
May  I  ask  the  name  of  your  misanthropical  boss  ?  You  might  tell 
him  I  called." 

"  Several  officers  called  three  years  ago,  but  he  begged  to  be  ex- 
cused." 

"  And  what  is  the  name  ?" 

"  Mr.  Maitland — is  what  he  is  called." 

"  All  right.  Possibly  the  time  may  come  when  Mr.  Maitland  will 
be  as  anxious  to  have  the  cavalry  around  him  as  he  is  now  to  keep  it 
away.  But  if  you  ever  feel  like  coming  uj)  to  the  fort,  just  ride  in  and 
ask  for  me." 

"  I  feel  like  it  a  dozen  times  a  week,  you  know ;  but  a  man  mustn't 
quarrel  with  his  bread-and-butter.  I  met  one  of  your  fellows  once  on 
a  hunt  after  strayed  mules,  and  he  asked  me  in,  but  I  couldn't  go. 
Sorry,  you  know,  and  all  that,  but  the  owner  won't  have  it," 

"  Well,  then  there's  nothing  to  do  for  it  but  say  good-day  to  you. 
I'm  going  back.  Possibly  I'll  see  some  of  your  people  up  at  Rossiter 
when  they  come  to  get  a  horse  shod." 

"  A  horse  shod  !     Why,  man  alive,  we  shoe  all  our  horses  here  !" 

"  Well,  that  fellow  who  rode  out  of  your  north  gate  and  went  up 
towards  the  fort  about  an  hour  or  so  ago  had  his  horse  shod  at  a 
cavalry  forge,  or  I'm  a  duffer." 

A  quick  change  came  over  the  Englishman's  face :  a  flush  of  sur- 
prise and  anger  shot  up  to  his  forehead :  he  wheeled  about  and  gazed 
eagerly,  loweringly,  back  towards  the  far-away  buildings. 

"  How  do  you  know  there  was What  fellow  did  you  see  ?" 

he  sharply  asked. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  who  he  was,"  answered  Perry,  coolly.  "  He 
avoided  me  just  as  pointedly  as  you  did, — galloped  across  the  Monee 
and  out  on  the  prairie  to  dodge  me ;  but  he  came  out  of  that  gate  on 
the  stream,  locked  it  after  him,  and  went  on  up  to  the  fort ;  and  his 
horse  had  cavalry  shoes.  Good-day  to  you,  my  Britannic  friend. 
Come  and  see  us  when  you  get  tired  of  prison-life."  And,  witii  a 
grin,  Mr.  Perry  turned  and  rode  rapidly  away,  leaving  the  other 
horseman  in  a  brown  study. 

Once  fairly  across  the  Monee,  he  ambled  placidly  along,  thinking  of 
the  odd  situation  of  affairs  at  this  great  prairie-reservation,  and  almost 
regretting  that  he  had  paid  the  ranch  the  honor  of  a  call.  Reacliing 
the  point  where  the  wagon-tracks  crossed  the  stream  to  the  gate-way 
in  the  boundary  fence,  he  reined  in  Nolan  and  looked  through  a  vista  in 


DUN  RAVEN  RANCH.  771 

the  cotton  woods.  There  was  the  English  man,  dismounted,  stooping 
over  the  ground,  and  evidently  examining  the  hoof-prints  at  the  gate. 
Perry  chuckled  at  the  sight,  then,  whistling  for  Bruce,  who  had  strayed 
off  through  the  timber,  he  resumed  his  jaunty  way  to  the  post. 

In  the  events  of  the  morning  there  were  several  things  to  give  him 
abundant  cause  for  thought,  if  not  for  lively  curiosity,  but  he  had  not 
yet  reached  the  sum  total  of  surprises  in  store  for  him.  He  was  still 
two  miles  out  from  the  fort,  and  riding  slowly  along  the  bottom,  when 
he  became  aware  of  a  trooper  coming  towards  him  on  the  trail.  The 
sunbeams  were  glinting  on  the  polished  ornaments  of  his  forage-cap 
and  on  the  bright  yellow  chevrons  of  his  snugly-fitting  blouse.  Tall 
and  slender  and  erect  was  the  coming  horseman,  a  model  of  soldierly 
grace  and  carriage,  and  as  he  drew  nearer  and  his  hand  went  up  to  the 
cap-visor  in  salute  a  gesture  from  his  young  superior  brought  an  instant 
pressure  on  the  rein,  and  horse  and  man  became  an  animated  statue. 
It  was  a  wonderfully  sudden  yet  easy  check  of  a  steed  in  rapid  motion, 
and  Mr.  Perry,  a  capital  rider  himself,  could  not  withhold  his  admi- 
ration. 

"  Where  did  you  learn  that  sudden  halt,  sergeant  ?"  he  asked.  "  I 
never  saw  anything  so  quick  except  the  Mexican  training ;  but  that 
strains  a  horse  and  throws  him  on  his  haunches." 

"  It  is  not  uncommon  abroad,  sir,"  was  the  quiet  answer.  "  I  saw 
it  first  in  the  English  cavalry ;  and  it  is  easy  to  teach  the  horse." 

"  I  must  get  you  to  show  me  the  knack  some  day.  I've  noticed  it 
two  or  three  times,  and  would  like  to  learn  it.  What  I  stopped  you 
for  was  this  :  you've  been  stable-sergeant  ever  since  we  got  here,  have 
you  not  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Then  if  anybody  besides  members  of  the  troop  had  horses  shod  at 
our  forge  you  would  be  pretty  apt  to  know  it  ?" 

"  I  know  that  no  one  has,  sir."  And  a  flush  was  rising  to  the 
young  sergeant's  face  and  a  pained  look  hovering  about  his  bright  blue 
eyes.     Yet  his  manner  was  self- restrained  and  full  of  respect. 

"  Don't  think  I'm  intimating  anything  to  the  contrary.  Sergeant 
Gwynne.  No  soldier  in  the  regiment  more  entirely  holds  the  confidence 
of  his  captain — of  all  the  officers — than  you.  I  was  not  thinking  of 
that.  But  somebody  down  there  at  that  big  ranch  below  us  has  had 
his  horse  shod  by  a  cavalry  farrier, — it  may  have  been  done  while  the 
Eleventh  were  here, — and,  while  I  knew  you  would  not  allow  it  at  our 
forge,  I  thought  it  possible  that  it  might  be  done  in  your  absence." 

"  It's  the  first  time  I've  been  out  of  sight  of  the  stables  since  we 
came  to  the  post,  sir,  and  the  captain  gave  me  permission  to  ride  down 
the  valley  this  morning.  May  I  ask  the  lieutenant  why  he  thinks 
some  ranchman  is  getting  his  shoeing  done  here  at  the  post?" 

"  I've  been  down  there  this  morning,  and  met  a  man  coming  up. 
He  avoided  me,  and  rode  over  to  the  south  side,  and  so  excited  ray 
curiosity ;  and  as  they  keep  that  whole  place  enclosed  in  a  wire  fence, 
and  he  had  evidently  come  out  of  the  north  gate,  I  was  struck  by  the 
sight  of  the  hoof-prints  :  they  were  perfectly  fresh  there  on  the  trail, 
and  plain  as  day.     There's  no  mistaking  the  shoe,  you  know.     By  the 


772  DUN  RAVEN  RANCH. 

way,  he  rode  up  to  the  fort,  and  probably  entered  at  your  side  of  the 
garrison  :  did  you  see  him  ?" 

"  No,  sir,  and,  except  for  breakfast, — just  after  reveille, — I  have 
been  at  stables  all  the  morning.  I  was  there  when  the  lieutenant  got 
his  horse." 

"  Yes,  I  remember.     Then  no  one  rode  in  from  the  valley  ?" 

"No  civilian, — no  ranchman,  sir.  The  only  horsemen  I've  seen 
were  some  Cheyenne  scouts  during  the  last  two  hours,  and  Dr.  Quin, 
— just  before  sick-call." 

" Dr.  Quin  ! — the  post  surgeon  !     Are  you  sure,  sergeant?" 

"  Certainly,  sir.  The  doctor  rode  into  the  post  just  about  an  hour 
after  the  lieutenant  left, — coming  up  the  valley  too.  He  went  right 
around  to  his  own  stable,  over  towards  the  hospital." 

A  look  of  amaze  and  stupefaction  was  settling  on  Perry's  face. 
Now  for  the  first  time  he  recalled  Mrs.  Lawrence's  intimations  with 
regard  to  the  doctor,  and  his  connection  with  the  signal-lights.  Now 
for  the  first  time  it  occurred  to  him  that  the  secret  of  those  cavalry 
hoof-prints  at  the  gate  was  that  no  ranchman,  but  an  officer  of  the 
garrison  had  been  the  means  of  leaving  them  there.  Now  for  the  first 
time  it  flashed  upon  him  that  the  Englishman's  astonishment  and  con- 
cern on  hearing  of  those  hoof-tracks  indicated  that  the  story  of  a 
mystery  at  Dunraven  in  which  the  doctor  was  connected  amounted  to 
something  more  than  garrison  rumor.  Now  for  the  first  time  an  ex- 
planation occurred  to  him  of  the  singular  conduct  of  the  horseman 
who  had  dodged  him  by  crossing  the  Monee.  Never  in  his  young  life 
had  he  known  the  hour  when  he  was  ashamed  or  afraid  to  look  any 
man  in  the  eye.  It  stung  him  to  think  that  here  at  Rossiter,  wearing 
the  uniform  of  an  honorable  profession,  enjoying  the  trust  and  confi- 
dence of  all  his  fellows,  was  a  man  who  had  some  secret  enterprise  of 
which  he  dared  not  speak  and  of  whose  discovery  he  stood  in  dread. 
There  could  be  little  doubt  that  the  elusive  stranger  was  Dr.  Quin,  and 
that  there  was  grave  reason  for  the  rumors  of  which  Mrs.  Lawrence 
had  vaguely  told  him. 

For  a  moment  he  sat,  dazed  and  irresolute,  Nolan  impatiently 
pawing  the  turf  the  while;  then,  far  across  the  prairie  and  down  the 
valley  there  came  floating,  quick  and  spirited,  though  faint  with  distance, 
the  notes  of  the  cavalry  trumpet  sounding  "  right,  front  into  line."  He 
looked  up,  startled. 

"  They're  out  at  battalion  drill,  sir,"  said  the  sergeant.  "  They 
marched  out  just  as  I  left  stables." 

"Just  my  infernal  luck  again  !"  gasped  Perry,  as  he  struck  spur  to 
Nolan  and  sent  him  tearing  up  the  slope :  "  I  might  have  known  I'd 
miss  it !" 

V. 

That  evening  a  group  of  cavalry  officers  came  sauntering  back  from 
stables,  and  as  they  reached  the  walk  in  front  of  officers'  row  a  dark- 
featured,  black-bearded,  soldierly-looking  captain  separated  himself 
from  the  rest  and  entered  the  colonel's  yard.  The  commanding  officer 
happened  to  be  seated  on  his  veranda  at  the  moment,  and  in  close 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  773 

confabulation  with  Dr.  Quin.  Botli  gentlemen  ceased  their  talk  as 
the  captain  entered,  and  then  rose  from  their  seats  as  lie  stepped  upon 
the  veranda  floor. 

"  Good-evening,  Stryker,"  said  the  colonel,  cheerily.  "  Come  in 
and  have  a  seat.  The  doctor  and  I  were  just  wondering  if  we  could 
not  get  you  to  take  a  hand  at  whist  to-night." 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  join  you,  sir,  after  parade.  I  have  come  in  to 
ask  permission  to  send  a  sergeant  and  a  couple  of  men,  mounted,  down 
the  Monee.     One  of  my  best  men  is  missing." 

"  Indeed  !     Who  is  that  ?     Send  the  men,  of  course." 

"  Sergeant  Gwynne,  sir.  The  first  time  I  ever  knew  him  to  miss  a 
duty." 

"Your  stable-sergeant,  too?  That  is  unusual.  How  long  has  he 
been  gone  ?" 

"Since  battalion  drill  this  morning.  He  was  on  hand  when  the 
men  were  saddling,  and  asked  permission  to  take  his  horse  out  for 
exercise  and  ride  down  the  valley  a  few  miles.  I  said  yes,  never  sup- 
posing he  would  be  gone  after  noon  roll-call;  and  we  were  astonished 
when  he  failed  to  appear  at  stables.  Perry  says  he  met  him  two  miles 
out." 

"  The  two  culprits  !"  said  the  colonel,  laughing.  "  Poor  Perry  is 
down  in  the  depths  again.  He  rode  up  to  me  with  such  a  woebegone 
look  on  his  face  at  drill  this  morning  that  I  could  hardly  keep  from 
laughing  in  front  of  the  whole  line.  Even  the  men  were  trying  hard 
not  to  grin  :  they  knew  he  had  turned  up  just  in  the  nick  of  time  to 
save  himself  an  '  absent.'  What  do  you  suppose  can  have  happened  to 
Gwynne?" 

"  I  cannot  imagine,  sir,  and  am  inclined  to  be  worried.  He  would 
never  willingly  overstay  a  pass ;  and  I  fear  some  accident  has  happened." 

"  Is  he  a  good  rider  ?"  asked  the  doctor. 

"None  better  in  the  regiment.  He  is  a  model  horseman,  in  fact, 
and,  though  he  never  alludes  to  nor  admits  it,  there  is  a  general  feeling 
among  the  men  that  he  has  been  in  the  English  cavalry  service.  Of 
course  there  is  no  doubt  of  his  nationality  :  he  is  English  to  the  back- 
bone, and,  I  fancy,  has  seen  better  days." 

"  What  made  them  think  he  had  been  in  the  cavalry  service 
abroad?" 

"  Oh,  his  perfect  knowledge  of  troojjer  duties  and  management  of 
horses.  It  took  him  no  time  to  learn  the  drill,  and  he  was  a  sergeant 
before  he  had  been  with  me  two  years.  Then,  if  you  ever  noticed, 
colonel,"  said  Captain  Stryker,  appealing  to  his  chief,  "whenever 
Gwynne  stands  attention  he  always  has  the  fingers  of  both  hands 
extended  and  pointing  down  along  the  thigh,  close  against  it, — so." 
And  Stryker  illustrated.  "  Now,  you  never  see  an  American  soldier 
do  that;  and  I  never  saw  it  in  any  but  English-trained  soldiers.  He 
has  quit  it  somewhat  of  late,  because  the  men  told  him  it  showed  where 
he  was  drilled, — we  have  other  English  *  non-coms.,'  you  know, — but 
for  a  long  time  I  noticed  that  in  him.  Then  he  was  enlisted  in  New 
York  City,  some  four  years  ago,  and  all  his  things  were  of  English 
make, — what  he  had." 


774  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

"What  manner  of  lookino;  fellow  is  he?"  asked  the  doctor.  "I 
think  I  would  have  noted  him  had  I  seen  him." 

"Yes,  you  Englishmen  are  apt  to  look  to  one  another,"  said  the 
colonel,  in  reply,  "  and  Gwynne  is  a  particularly  fine  specimen.  He 
has  your  eyes  and  hair,  doctor,  but  hasn't  had  time  to  grow  grizzled 
and  bulky  yet,  as  you  and  I  have.  One  might  say  that  you  and  the 
sergeant  were  fi-om  the  same  shire." 

"  That  would  help  me  very  little,  since  I  was  only  three  years  old 
when  the  governor  emigrated,"  answered  the  doctor,  with  a  quiet  smile. 
"  We  keep  some  traces  of  the  old  sod,  I  suppose,  but  I've  been  a  Yankee 
for  forty  years,  and  have  never  once  set  eyes  on  Merrie  England  in  all 
that  time. — Did  the  sergeant  say  where  he  wanted  to  go  ?"  And  the 
questioner  looked  up  sharply. 

"  Nowhere  in  particular, — down  the  valley  was  all.  I  remember, 
though,  that  Mr.  Parke  said  he  seemed  much  exercised  over  the  name 
of  that  ranch  down  the  Monee, — I've  forgotten  what  they  call  it. — Have 
you  heard  it,  colonel  ?" 

"  Seems  to  me  I  have,  but  I've  forgotten.  You  have,  doctor,  have 
you  not?" 

"  Heard  what,  colonel  ?" 

"  The  name  of  that  ranch  down  the  Monee, — an  English  ranch, 
they  tell  me,  about  seven  miles  away." 

"  Oh,  yes  ! — that  one  !  They  call  it  Dunraven  Ranch. — Did  the 
sergeant  take  any  of  the  hounds  with  him,  captain  ?  It  occurs  to  me 
he  might  have  been  running  a  coyote  or  a  rabbit,  and  his  horse  have 
stumbled  and  fallen  with  him.  There  is  no  end  of  prairie-dog  holes 
down  that  way." 

"  No,  the  dogs  are  all  in.  I  wouldn't  be  surprised  if  he  had  gone 
to  the  ranch.  That's  an  English  name,  and  they  are  all  Englishmen 
down  there,  I  hear.  Very  possibly  that  is  the  solution.  They  may 
have  tempted  hira  to  stay  with  English  hospitality ;  though  it  would 
astonish  me  if  he  yielded.  I'll  tell  the  men  to  inquire  there  first,  col- 
onel, and  will  go  and  send  them  now."  And,  bowing  to  his  com- 
mander. Captain  Stryker  turned  and  left  the  porch. 

The  doctor  rose,  thrust  his  hands  deep  in  his  pockets,  paced  slowly 
to  the  southern  end  of  the  veranda,  and  gazed  down  the  distant,  peace- 
ful valley,  an  anxious  cloud  settling  on  his  brow.  The  colonel  re- 
sumed once  more  the  newspaper  he  had  dropped  upon  the  floor.  After 
a  moment  Dr.  Quin  came  slowly  back,  stood  in  front  of  the  entrance  a 
few  seconds  looking  irresolutely  at  the  soldier  sprawled  at  full  length 
in  his  reclining-chair,  stepped  towards  him  with  a  preparatory  clearing 
of  his  throat  as  though  about  to  speak,  and  then,  suddenly  and  help- 
lessly abandoning  the  idea,  he  plunged  down  the  short  flight  of  steps, 
huri-ied  out  of  the  gate,  and  disappeared  around  the  fence-corner  in  the 
direction  of  the  hospital.  Immersed  in  his  paper,  the  colonel  never 
seemed  to  note  that  he  had  gone ;  neither  did  he  note  the  fact  that  two 
ladies  were  coming  down  the  walk.  Possibly  the  vines  clustering 
thickly  all  over  the  front  of  his  veranda  were  responsible  for  this 
latter  failure  on  his  part,  since  it  took  more  than  a  newspaper,  ordi- 
narily, to  render  the  gallant  dragoon  insensible  to  the  approach  of  the 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  775 

opposite  sex.  They  saw  him,  of  course,  despite  the  shrouding  vines, 
and,  with  perfectly  justifiable  appreciation  of  the  homage  due  them, 
were  mutually  resolved  that  he  should  come  out  of  that  reclining  pose 
and  make  his  bow  in  due  form.  No  words  were  necessary  between 
them.     The  understanding  was  tacit,  but  complete. 

The  soft  swish  of  trailing  skirt  being  insufficient  to  attract  his  at- 
tention as  they  arrived  nearly  opposite  the  shaded  veranda,  a  silvery 
peal  of  laughter  broke  the  stillness  of  the  early  evening.  Mrs.  Bel- 
knap's laugh  was  delicious, — soft,  melodious,  rippling  as  a  canary's 
song,  and  just  as  spontaneous.  Neither  lady  had  said  anything  at  the 
moment  that  was  incentive  of  merriment ;  but  if  Mrs.  Lawrence  had 
given  utterance  to  the  quaintest,  oddest,  most  whimsical  conceit  imagi- 
nable, Mrs.  Belknap's  laugh  could  not  have  been  more  ready,  and  her 
great,  dark  eyes  shot  a  sidelong  glance  to  note  the  effect.  Down  went 
the  paper,  and  up,  with  considerable  propping  from  his  muscular  arms, 
came  the  burly  form  of  the  post  commander.  Two  sweet,  smiling  faces 
beamed  upon  him  through  an  aperture  in  the  leafy  screen,  and  Mrs. 
Belknap's  silvery  voice  hailed  him  in  laughing  salutation  : 

"  Did  we  spoil  your  siesta,  colonel  ?  How  ccm  I  make  amends  ? 
You  see,  you  were  so  hidden  by  the  vines  that  no  one  would  dream  of 
your  being  there  in  ambush." 

"  Oh,  indeed,  I  assure  you  I  wasn't  asleep,"  answered  the  colonel, 
hastily.  "  Won't  you  come  in,  ladies,  and  sit  here  in  the  shade  awhile? 
You've  been  calling,  I  suppose?" 

"  Yes,— calling,  on  the  entire  social  circle  of  Fort  Rossiter.  Con- 
gratulate us,  colonel :  we  have  actually  accomplished  the  feat  of  visiting 
every  woman  in  society.  We  have  made  the  rounds  of  the  garrison. 
We  owe  no  woman  anything, — beyond  a  grudge  or  two, — and  it  has 
only  taken  forty-five  minutes,  despite  the  fact  that  everybody  was  at 
home." 

"  Well,  come  in,  Mrs.  Belknap ;  do  come  in,  Mrs.  Lawrence.  I 
assure  you  that,  though  everybody  must  have  been  enchanted  to  see 
you,  nobody  is  half  as  glad  as  I  am.  You  must  be  tired  after  such  a 
round  of  visits.'^  And  the  colonel  plunged  heavily  down  the  steps  and 
hospitably  opened  the  gate. 

*'  We  thought  we  would  stroll  around  until  parade,"  said  Mrs. 
Lawrence,  hesitatingly,  "  and  then  sit  down  and  watch  it  somewhere." 

"  No  place  better  than  this,"  promptly  answered  the  colonel.  "  You 
can  sit  behind  the  vines  on  that  side  and  see,  or,  what  we  would  infi- 
nitely prefer,  sit  here  at  the  entrance  and  be  seen.  Meantime,  I've  been 
unpacking  some  photograph-albums  this  afternoon,  and  you  can  amuse 
yourselves  with  those  while  I  put  on  my  harness.     Come !" 

The  colonel's  collection  of  photographs  was  something  the  ladies 
had  already  heard  a  great  deal  of.  One  of  the  most  genial  and  popular 
officers  in  the  army,  he  had  gathered  together  several  large  albums  full 
of  pictures  of  prominent  men  and  attractive  and  distinguished  women, 
— not  only  those  with  whom  he  had  been  associated  in  his  long  years 
of  service,  but  men  eminent  in  national  and  state  affairs,  and  women 
leaders  in  society  in  many  a  gay  metropolis.  Both  the  ladies  had 
hoped  to  see  this  famous  collection  the  evening  before,  but  the  colonel 


776  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

had  not  then  unpacked  the  albums,  and  they  were  disappointed.  Now, 
however,  the  prospect  was  indeed  alhu'iug,  and  neither  could  resist. 
When  the  first  call  sounded  for  parade  a  few  moments  after,  and  the 
commanding  officer  was  getting  himself  into  his  full-dress  uniform,  the 
two  pretty  heads  were  close  together,  and  two  pairs  of  very  lovely  eyes 
— one  dark  and  deep  and  dangerous,  the  other  a  clear  and  honest  gray 
— were  dilating  over  page  after  page  of  photographed  beauty.  There 
was  no  need  to  puzzle  over  the  identity  of  the  originals :  under  each 
picture  the  thoughtful  colonel  had  carefully  written  the  name  and  ad- 
dress. Absorbed  in  this  treat,  they  could  barely  afford  time  to  look 
up  and  smile  their  thanks  as  the  colonel  passed,  clanking  forth  at  the 
sounding  of  adjutant's  call,  and  were  too  completely  engrossed  in  their 
delightful  occupation  to  notice  what  took  place  at  parade. 

The  long,  slender  line  had  formed, — the  infantry  companies  on  the 
right  and  left  flanks,  their  neat  and  tasteful  dress  of  blue  and  white 
contrasting  favorably  with  the  gaudy  yellow  plumage  of  the  four  dis- 
mounted troops  of  the  cavalry.  Company  after  company  had  taken 
the  statuesque  pose  of  "  parade  rest"  and  its  captain  faced  to  the  front 
again,  the  adjutant  was  just  about  moving  to  his  post  on  the  prolonga- 
tion of  the  front  rank,  and  the  colonel  settling  back  into  the  con- 
ventional attitude  of  the  commanding  officer,  when  from  outside  the 
rectangular  enclosure  of  the  parade-ground — from  somewhere  beyond 
the  men's  barracks — there  came  sudden  outcry  and  commotion.  There 
were  shouts,  indistinguishable  at  first,  but  excited  and  startling.  Some 
of  the  men  in  ranks  twitched  nervously  and  partially  turned  their 
heads,  as  though  eager  to  look  behind  them  and  see  what  was  wrong ; 
whereat  stern  voices  could  be  heard  in  subdued  but  potent  censure : 
"  Keep  your  eyes  to  the  front,  there,  Sullivan  !"  "  Stand  fast,  there, 
centre  of  Third  Company !"  The  guard,  too,  paraded  in  front  of  its 
quarters  some  distance  behind  the  line,  was  manifestly  disturbed,  and 
the  voice  of  the  sergeant  could  be  heard  giving  hurried  orders.  Every 
man  in  the  battalion  seemed  at  the  same  instant  to  arrive  at  one  of  two 
conclusions, — prisoners  escaping,  or  fire  over  at  the  stables, — and  all 
eyes  were  fixed  on  the  imperturbable  form  of  the  commanding  officer, 
as  though  waiting  the  signal  from  him  to  break  and  go  to  the  rescue. 
But  there  the  colonel  stood,  placid,  calm,  and  apparently  utterly  un- 
conscious of  the  distant  yet  nearing  clamor.  The  adjutant  hesitated  a 
moment  before  proceeding  further,  and  glanced  appealingly  at  his  chief; 
whereupon  there  came  from  the  blue  and  gold  and  yellow  statue  out 
on  the  parade,  in  half- reproachful  tones,  tlie  quiet  order,  "  Go  on  !"  and 
the  adjutant,  recalled  to  his  senses  and  with  evident  expression  of  his 
sentiments  to  the  efiect  that  if  others  coukl  stand  it  he  could,  brusquely 
turned  his  head  towards  the  band  and  growled,  "  Sound  off !"  The 
boom  and  crash  of  drum  and  cymbal  and  the  blare  of  brazen  throats 
drowned  for  a  moment  the  sound  of  the  turmoil  without.  The  next 
thing  the  battalion  heard,  or  saw,  was  a  riderless  horse  tearing  full  tilt 
out  on  the  parade  and  sweeping  in  a  big  circle  from  the  right  of  the 
line  down  towards  the  point  where  the  colonel  stood.  Following  him 
came  a  pair  of  Cheyenne  scouts,  their  ponies  scampering  in  pursuit, 
but  veering  off  the  green  as  their  riders  realized  that  they  were  intruding 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  777 

on  the  ceremony  of  the  day.  Relieved  of  his  pursuers,  the  fugitive 
speedily  settled  down  into  a  lunging  trot,  and  with  streaming  mane  and 
tail,  with  head  and  ears  erect,  with  falling  bridle-rein  and  flapping 
stirrups,  he  circled  rapidly  the  open  space  between  the  colonel  and  the 
line  of  battle,  then  came  trotting  back  along  the  front,  as  though  search- 
ing in  the  stolid  rank  of  bearded  faces  for  the  friends  he  knew.  Officer 
after  officer  he  passed  in  review  until  lie  came  to  Stryker's  troop,  posted 
on  the  right  of  the  cavalry,  and  there,  with  a  neigh  of  recognition, 
he  fearlessly  trotted  up  to  the  captain's  outstretched  hand.  Another 
minute,  and  two  men  fell  out  and  made  a  temporary  gap  in  the  rank ; 
through  this  a  sergeant  file-closer  extended  his  white  glove,  relieved 
the  captain  of  his  charge,  and  led  the  panting  steed  away.  The  men 
retook  their  places;  the  captain  again  resumed  his  position  in  front  of 
the  centre  of  his  company,  dropped  the  point  of  his  sabre  to  the  ground, 
and  settled  })ack  into  *'  parade  rest ;"  tlie  band  went  on  thundering  down 
the  line,  countermarched,  and  came  back  to  its  post  on  the  right,  making 
the  welkin  ring  with  the  triumphant  strains  of  "Northern  Route," 
the  trumpets  pealed  the  "retreat,"  the  adjutant  stalked  his  three  yards 
to  the  front,  faced  fiercely  to  the  left  and  shouted  his  resonant  orders 
down  the  line,  three  hundred  martial  forms  sprang  to  attention,  and  the 
burnished  arms  came  to  the  "  carry"  with  simultaneous  crash,  ranks 
were  opened  with  old-time  precision,  the  parade  "  presented"  to  the 
colonel  with  all  due  formality,  the  manual  was  executed  just  as  punc- 
tiliously as  though  nothing  unusual  had  ha])pened ;  first-sergeants 
reported,  orders  were  published,  parade  formally  dismissed;  the  line 
of  officers  marched  solidly  to  the  front,  halted,  and  made  its  simul- 
taneous salute  to  the  colonel,  who  slowly  raised  and  lowered  his  white- 
gloved  hand  in  recognition  ;  and  then,  and  not  till  then,  was  any  one 
allowed  to  speak  of  what  was  uppermost  in  every  mind, — tliat  Sergeant 
Gwynne's  horse  had  come  in  without  him,  and  that  the  animal's  right 
flank  was  streaming  with  blood. 

Ten  minutes  later.  Lieutenant  Perry,  in  riding-dress,  came  hurrying 
down  to  the  colonel's  quarters,  where  two  or  three  officers  were  now 
gathered  at  the  gate.  The  ladies  had  put  aside  the  albums,  and  -with 
anxious  faces  were  scanning  the  little  group,  as  though  striving  to 
gauge  from  their  gestures  and  expression  the  extent  of  the  calamity  or 
the  possible  degree  of  danger.  But  Mrs.  Lawrence  looked  fairly 
startled  when  her  husband's  voice  was  heard  for  the  first  time  above 
the  general  hum  of  consultation  : 

"Colonel  Brainard,  Mr.  Perry  is  coming,  I  see,  and  I  presume 
there  is  no  time  to  be  lost.  You  have  asked  if  none  of  us  who  were 
stationed  here  ever  visited  the  ranch,  and  the  answer  was  no.  May  I 
suggest  that  Dr.  Quin  could  perhaps  tell  something  of  its  inhabitants?" 

"Where  is  the  doctor?"  asked  the  colonel,  turning  suddenly. 
"  Orderly,  go  and  give  my  compliments  to  the  post  surgeon  and  say  I 
wish  to  see  him  here  a  moment. — All  ready,  Perry  ?  You  have  made 
quick  work  of  it." 

"All  ready,  sir.  At  least,  I  will  be  the  moment  my  horse  gets 
here.     There  go  the  men  running  to  the  stables  now." 

"  Captain  Stryker  will  send  a  sergeant  and  four  men  to  report  to 


778  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

you,  and  you  are  to  go  direct  to  Dunraven  Ranch.  The  rest  of  the 
troop,  with  the  Cheyennes,  will  scout  the  prairie  to  the  east  and  south. 
'Twill  soon  be  too  dark  to  trail,  but  three  of  the  Indians  are  going 
back  on  the  horse's  track  as  far  as  they  can.  The  adjutant  is  writing  a 
note  to  the  proprietor  of  the  ranch, — I  don't  know  his  name " 

"  His  name  is  Maitland,  sir." 

''  Is  it  ?     Have  you  been  there  ?" 

"  I've  been  around  one  end  of  it,  outside,  but  nowhere  near  the 
buildings.     It's  all  fenced  in,  sir,  and  the  gates  kept  locked," 

"  What  an  incomprehensible  proceeding  for  Texas !  Wait  a  mo- 
ment while  I  speak  to  INIr.  Farnham  :  he's  writing  here  at  my  desk. 
— Gentlemen,  come  in  on  the  porch  and  sit  down,  will  you  not  ?" 

But  they  excused  themselves,  and  hastened  away  to  remove  their 
full  dress.  Captain  Lawrence  had  no  need  to  call  his  wife.  She  bade 
her  companion  good-evening,  thanked  the  colonel  with  a  smiling  glance 
for  the  pleasure  the  photographs  had  given  her,  and  added  a  word  of 
earnest  hope  that  they  might  find  the  sergeant  uninjured.  Then  she 
joined  her  husband,  and  together  they  walked  quickly  away.  Mrs. 
Belknap  and  Mr.  Perry  were  left  for  the  moment  alone. 

"  Can  you  walk  home  with  me  ?"  she  asked,  in  her  low,  modulated 
tones,  the  great,  heavily-lashed,  swimming  dark  eyes  searching  his  face. 
"  I  have  not  seen  you  since  they  broke  in  upon  our  talk  last  evening, 
and  there  is  something  I  want  to  ask  you." 

"  I'm  sorry,  Mrs.  Belknap,  but  I'm  on  duty,  you  see,"  was  the  young 
fellow's  answer  as  he  gave  a  tug  to  the  strap  of  his  cartridge-belt. 
"  Can't  you  ask  me  here  ?" 

"  How  can  I  ?" — and  the  eyes  were  full  of  pathetic  disappointment, — 
"when  they  may  come  out  any  moment?  You  did  not  finish  telling 
me  about — about  the  tassel  last  night.  I  believe  you  were  glad  when 
they  interrupted  us.     Were  you  not?" 

"  Nonsense,  Mrs.  Belknap  !  I  was  having  too  good  a  time, — lots 
of  fun." 

"  Yes,"  was  the  reproachful  answer,  "  that  is  what  it  was — to  you, 
— mere  fun.  And  now  you  are  going  away  again,  after  promising  to 
come  in  this  evening," 

"  I  have  to  go,  Mrs.  Belknap.  Why,  I  want  to  go.  Haven't  you 
heard  what  has  happened, — about  Sergeant  Gwynne  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  is  your  duty,  of  course ;  but  how  unlucky !"  And 
the  pretty  face  was  drooping  with  its  weight  of  disappointment  and 
sadness.  She  leaned  against  the  railing  near  his  gauntlet-covered  hand, 
the  dark  eyes  pensively  downcast,  the  dark  lashes  sweeping  her  soft, 
flushing  cheek.  "  And  to-morrow  you  are  on  guard,"  she  presently 
continued. 

"  Yes,  unless  some  one  has  to  go  on  for  me, — in  case  we  are  not 
back  in  the  morning  in  time." 

"Then  it's  good-by,  I  suppose,"  she  said,  lifting  her  eyes  once  more 
to  his.  "After  to-morrow  there  will  be  little  chance  of  seeing  you. 
Mrs.  Page  will  be  here  by  that  time." 

Mr.  Perry  looked  at  his  fair  companion  with  a  glance  that  told 
of  much  perturbation  of  spirit.     Mrs.  Page  was  an  old  and  cherished 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  779 

friend  of  Mrs.  Belknap's, — so  the  latter  had  always  said, — and  now 
she  was  coming  to  visit  her  from  a  station  in  the  Indian  Territory. 
Just  why  her  coming  should  prevent  his  seeing  Mrs.  Belknap  or  her 
seeing  him  was  more  than  the  tall  subaltern  could  understand.  On 
the  brink  of  an  unpardonable  solecism,  on  the  very  ragged  edge  of  a 
blundering  inquiry,  he  was  saved — in  her  estimation — by  the  sudden 
return  of  the  orderly  and  the  reappeai'ance  of  the  colonel. 

"  I've  been  to  the  hospital,  sir,  and  to  the  doctor's  quarters :  he's 
not  there.  They  say  that's  him,  sir,  riding  off  yonder."  And  the 
orderly  pointed  to  a  faint  speck  just  visible  in  the  waning  twilight,  far 
away  southeastward  beyond  the  Monee. 

VI. 

Twilight  still  hovered  over  the  broad  expanse  of  prairie  w^hen 
Lieutenant  Perry  and  his  little  party,  after  a  brisk  canter  down  the 
valley,  reached  the  barbed  enclosure  of  Dunraven,  and  the  young  com- 
mander led  unhesitatingly  to  the  gate-way  on  the  northern  line.  A 
sergeant  of  his  troop  and  two  private  soldiers  were  his  escort  at  the 
moment ;  a  third  man,  by  direction  of  Colonel  Brainard,  had  been  sent 
at  the  gallop  in  pursuit  of  the  distant  speck  which  the  orderly  had 
pronounced  to  be  Dr.  Quin,  and  the  instructions  which  this  messenger 
bore  were  to  the  effect  that  the  post  surgeon  should  ride  by  the  most 
direct  route  and  join  Lieutenant  Perry  at  the  north  gate  of  the  ranch. 
In  the  few  minutes  which  elapsed  between  the  announcement  of  the 
doctor's  departure  on  his  solitary  and  unexpected  ride  and  the  arrival 
of  the  little  mounted  escort.  Perry  had  time  to  tell  the  colonel  some- 
thing of  the  situation  down  the  ISIonee  and  to  make  a  rous^h  sketcli  of 
the  enclosure  and  the  distant  buildings.  The  direction  taken  by  the 
doctor,  up  to  the  moment  when  the  black  speck  disappeared  from  view 
in  the  waning  light,  would  be  very  apt  to  lead  him,  if  he  rode  far 
enough,  to  some  point  on  the  wire  fence  which  spanned  the  western 
limit  of  Dunraven ;  biit  that  point  would  be  at  least  five  or  six  miles 
south  of  the  valley.  Possibly  there  was  no  gate-way  north  of  that, — 
certainly  no  trail  was  visible  on  the  prairie, — but  the  more  Mr.  Perry 
thought  of  the  matter  as  he  rode  away  the  more  was  he  satisfied  that 
somewhere  far  down  that  western  line  there  was  an  entrance  where 
Dr.  Quin,  at  least,  had  the  "open  sesame."  All  the  grazing  thus  far 
had  been  done  north  of  the  Monee ;  all  the  hunting  and  coursing,  toOj 
had  been  found  best  in  every  way  far  out  to  the  north  and  east  of  the 
post ;  and  so  it  happened  that  no  one  of  the  — th  seemed  to  have  ac- 
quired any  knowledge  of  the  English  ranch.  What  the  local  infantry 
command  was  able  to  tell  of  it  was  purely  hearsay.  None  of  the 
ofiScers  had  ever  penetrated  the  charmed  enclosure,  and  no  one  of  the 
soldiers  was  known  to  have  done  so.  Perry  remembered  hearing  that 
the  Eleventh  while  stationed  there  had  made  some  scouts  and  expedi- 
tions out  to  the  south,  and  that  some  of  these  had  completely  circled 
the  broad  lands  of  the  estate,  finding  well-travelled  roads  leading  from 
its  southern  boundaries  to  the  settlements  two  days'  journey  farther 
towards  the  Gulf;  but  nowhere  was  there  open  or  unguarded  gap. 


780  DUN  RAVEN  RANCH. 

Cattle  with  the  Dunraven  brand  roamed  tlie  breaks  and  prairies  far 
away  towards  the  eastern  streams,  and  crossed  even  the  broad  trail  over 
which  the  great  Texas  "  drive"  of  "  long-horns,"  year  after  year,  passed 
up  across  the  valley  of  the  Washita.  Other  cattle,  of  choicer  breed, 
were  carefully  herded  within  the  wire  enclosure ;  but,  thanks  to  the 
vigilance  of  the  manager  and  the  exertions  of  his  few  skilled  assistants, 
none  of  their  wandering  chattels  seemed  ever  to  venture  up-stream  to- 
wards the  fort-,  and  all  excuse  for  a  visit  there  was  apparently  guarded 
against.  These  meagre  points  he  had  gathered  frotn  the  remarks  of 
one  or  two  officers  who  had  come  to  see  him  oif,  and,  ignorant  of  his 
morning  expedition,  to  offer  suggestions  as  to  his  best  course. 

His  orders  were,  in  case  nothing  was  seen  or  heard  of  Sergeant 
Gwynne  while  on  the  way  thither,  to  enter  the  enclosure  and  make  in- 
quiries at  the  ranch  itself  Meantime,  the  Cheyenne  scouts  had  been 
hastily  summoned  from  their  lodges  along  the  Monee  just  above  the 
post  and  sent  scurrying  forth  upon  the  prairie  to  trail  the  horse's  foot- 
prints and  so  work  back  as  far  as  possible  before  darkness  interposed. 
Captain  Stryker,  too,  and  a  dozen  of  his  best  men,  had  mounted  and 
ridden  forth  in  long,  scattered  line  across  the  eastern  plain  ;  and  these 
parties  were  all  five  miles  out  from  the  post  before  nightfall  fairly  hid 
them  from  view. 

One  thing  the  sergeant  had  to  tell  Mr.  Perry  which  confirmed  him 
in  the  belief  that  the  sooner  they  got  to  Dunraven  the  quicker  they 
would  be  at  the  scene  of  their  comrade's  mishap,  whatever  that  might 
prove  to  be.  He  had  had  no  time  himself  to  visit  the  stables  and  ex- 
amine the  wounds  on  the  horse's  flank,  but  as  they  rode  away  from 
Rossiter  he  turned  in  the  saddle  and  called  the  non-commissioned  officer 
to  his  side. 

"  What  sort  of  wound  is  it,  sergeant,  that  made  that  horse  bleed  so, 
—bullet  or  knife  ?" 

"  It  doesn't  look  like  either,  sir.  There  are  several  of  them, — jagged 
scratches  in  the  shoulder  and  along  the  flank,  like  thorns  or  nails " 

"Or  barbed  wire?"  suggested  the  lieutenant,  suddenly. 

"Yes,  sir,  like  as  not;  though  we  hadn't  thought  of  that,  not 
knowing  of  any  fences  hereabouts." 

"You'll  see  fence  enough  presently.  That's  where  we'll  find  Ser- 
geant Gwynne,  too.  Let  your  horses  out  a  little.  I  want  to  get  there 
before  dark,  if  possible." 

It  was  dark  in  the  timl)er,  however,  as  they  rode  through  and 
reined  u]i  at  the  gate-way.  It  would  be  half  an  hour  at  the  very  least, 
thought  Perry,  before  the  doctor  could  join  them,  if  he  came  at  all.  It 
was  by  no  means  certain  that  the  messenger  had  overtaken  him,  and, 
even  if  he  had,  was  it  probable  that  the  doctor  would  be  in  great  haste 
to  come?  His  mysterious  movements  of  the  morning,  his  undoubted 
connection  with  the  night-signals  from  the  ranch,  the  fact  that  he  had 
given  his  commanding  officer  no  inkling  whatever  of  these  outside  inter- 
ests of  his,  all  tended  to  make  Perry  distrustful  of  their  post  surgeon. 
He  would  not  speak  of  it  to  a  soul,  or  liint  at  the  possibility  of  such 
a  thing,  until  he  had  evidence  that  was  indisputable,  but  the  young 
olfi.cer  was  sorely  perplexed  by  these  indications  of  some  secret  and 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  781 

unlawful  enterprise  on  the  part  of  their  new  comrade,  and  he  doubted 
his  sympathy  in  the  mission  on  which  they  had  been  hurried  forth. 

Dismounting  to  examine  the  gate  while  still  pondering  this  matter 
over  in  his  mind,  Perry  found  it  locked  as  securely  as  he  had  left  it 
in  the  morning.  The  sergeant  and  his  men  dismounted,  too,  at  a  low- 
spoken  word  from  their  officer,  and  stood  at  the  heads  of  their  panting 
horses,  looking  in  silent  surprise  at  the  strong  and  impervious  barrier 
that  crossed  their  track. 

"  The  gate  is  locked  and  the  fence  impassable,  sergeant,"  said  Mr. 
Perry.  "  We  cannot  get  our  horses  through  or  over  unless  we  hack 
down  a  post  or  two.  You  can't  cut  such  wire  as  this  with  any  tool 
we've  got.  I'll  leave  Nolan  here  with  you  and  go  on  to  the  ranch  on 
foot :  it  lies  about  half  a  mile  to  the  south.  If  the  doctor  comes,  he 
can  follow  me.  If  I  do  not  come  or  send  back  in  half  an  hour  from 
this,  you  three  come  after  me,  for  I'll  need  you." 

With  that,  slowly  and  carefully,  and  not  without  a  muttered  mal- 
ediction on  the  stinging  barbs,  Mr.  Perry  wriggled  through  between 
the  middle  wires,  and  finally  stood  within  the  enclosure,  readjusting  his 
waist-belt  and  holster.  Then  he  took  his  revolver  from  its  leathern 
case,  carefully  tried  the  hammer  and  cylinder,  saw  that  each  chamber 
was  loaded,  and  turned  once  more  to  the  sergeant. 

"  Your  pistols  all  right  ?" 

"  All  right,  sir, — fresh  loaded  when  we  started." 

"  I  don't  know  that  they'll  be  necessary  at  all,  sergeant,  but  this  is 
a  queer  place,  from  what  I've  heard  and  the  little  I've  seen.  Keep 
your  eyes  and  ears  open.  Captain  Stryker  and  some  of  the  men  may 
come  down  into  the  valley  if  they  find  no  trace  of  Gwynne  up  on  the 
prairie.     Watch  for  the  doctor,  too." 

Then,  through  the  deepening  twilight  he  strode,  following  the  trail 
that  led  southward  up  the  slopes.  Five  minutes'  brisk  walk  along 
the  springy  turf  brought  him  to  the  crest  and  in  view  of  the  lights  at 
the  ranch-buildings,  still  some  six  or  seven  hundred  yards  away.  All 
through  the  eastern  sky  the  stars  were  peeping  forth,  and  even  through 
the  gleam  of  the  twilight  in  the  west  two  brilliant  planets  shone  like 
molten  gold.  All  was  silence  and  peace  on  every  hand,  and,  but  for 
those  guiding,  glimmering  lights  at  the  south,  all  M^ould  have  told  of 
desolation.  Behind  him  in  the  valley  waited  his  faithful  men.  Far 
beyond  the  Monee,  out  on  the  northern  prairie,  he  knew  that  comrades 
were  scouring  the  face  of  the  earth  in  search  of  their  missing  brother. 
Up  the  stream,  somewhere  behind  them,  the  Cheyennes  were  patiently 
trailing  the  hoof-tracks  as  long  as  the  light  should  last ;  he  knew  that 
search  must  be  at  an  end  by  this  time,  and  that  some  of  their  number, 
at  least,  would  be  riding  down  to  join  his  men.  Whoever  found  the 
sergeant  was  to  fire  three  shots  in  air :  the  signal  could  be  heard  a  long 
way  in  that  intense  stillness,  and  that  signal  was  to  recall  the  searching- 
parties.  Every  step  brought  him  deeper  into  the  darkness  of  the  night, 
yet  nearer  and  nearer  those  twinkling  lights  ahead.  Already  he  could 
distinguish  those  in  the  main  building,  the  homestead,  from  those  more 
distant  still,  in  the  store-rooms  and  office.  Far  over  among  the  stables 
and  corrals  he  heard  the  deep  baying  of  hounds,  and  he  wondered  if 
Vol.  XLII.— 51 


782  DVNRAVEN  RANCH. 

it  was  to  be  his  luck  to  encounter  any  enterprising  watch-dogs.  An 
English  bull-terrier  would  be  a  lively  entertainer,  thought  he,  with 
instinctive  motion  towards  the  flap  of  his  holster ;  and  it  would  be  a 
wonder  if  a  ranch  that  surrounded  itself  with  fifty  miles  of  barbed 
wire  fencing  were  not  further  environed  by  a  pack  of  watch-dogs  of  the 
most  approved  and  belligerent  breed.  Once  having  passed  the  distant 
barrier  of  that  gate  on  the  Monee,  however,  his  way  was  unimpeded, 
and,  to  all  appearance,  utterly  unmarked ;  he  had  arrived  within  fifty 
yards  of  the  foremost  building,  the  homestead,  before  he  was  brought 
to  a  halt.  Then  he  stopped  short,  surprised,  half  credulous,  and  all 
attention,  listening  to  the  "  concord  of  sweet  sounds"  that  came  floating 
from  the  open  casement  somewhere  along  the  east  front  of  the  big, 
gloomy  house. 

"  One  part  of  the  story  verified,  by  Jove  !  It's  a  piano, — and  well 
played,  too." 

Full  a  minute  he  stood  there  listening.  Perry  was  a  dancer  whose 
nimble  feet  moved  blithely  to  any  measured,  rhythmical  strains,  and 
a  soldier  whose  soul  was  stirred  by  martial  music,  but  with  Chopin  and 
Mendelssohn,  Bach  and  Rubinstein,  he  had  but  slight  acquaintance. 
That  any  one  should  be  playing  a  piano  here  on  the  borders  of  the 
Llano  Estacado  was  in  itself  sufficient  cause  for  wonderment;  that  the 
invisible  performer  was  playing — and  playing  with  exquisite  taste  and 
feeling — one  of  the  loveliest  of  the  "  Lieder  ohne  Worte,"  the  Spring 
Song,  was  a  fact  that  conveyed  no  added  astonishment  to  his  soul :  he 
never  knew  it  until  one  sw^eet  night  long  after. 

However,  matters  more  pressing  than  music  demanded  Mr.  Perry's 
attention  just  here.  He  had  reached  Dunraven,  after  all.  Neither 
dog  nor  man  had  challenged.  Once  within  those  barbed  and  frowning 
barriers,  all  the  encircling  objects  spoke  of  security  and  rest.  Far 
away  towards  the  corrals  he  heard  the  sound  of  voices  in  jolly  conver- 
sation ;  a  rich,  melodious  laugh  rang  out  on  the  cool  evening  air ;  he 
heard  some  one  shouting  genial  good-night  to  somebody  else,  and  then 
the  slam  of  a  distant  door.  Presently  a  light  popped  out  from  a  win- 
dow in  what  he  believed  to  be  a  storehouse,  and  all  was  still  again. 
Even  the  piano  had  ceased.  Now  was  his  time,  thought  Perry ;  and 
so,  boldly  mounting  the  steps,  he  stood  upon  a  dark  portico  and  strode 
to  the  black  shadow  in  the  wall  before  him  where  he  knew  the  main 
door-way  must  be.  It  was  his  intention  to  knock  or  ring.  Up-stairs 
dim  lights  were  shining  through  the  open  windows,  but  on  this  front 
of  the  ground-floor  all  was  darkness.  His  gauntleted  hand  felt  all 
the  face  of  the  door  in  search  of  knob  or  knocker,  but  nothing  of  the 
kind  w^as  there ;  neither  was  there  such  a  thing  on  either  door-post. 
Just  as  he  decided  to  hammer  with  his  clinched  fist,  the  piano  began 
again.  He  waited  for  a  pause,  but  none  came.  This  time  the  music 
was  vehement  and  spirited,  and  no  banging  of  his  on  oaken  door-way 
would  be  audible  against  such  rivalry.  Uncertain  what  to  do,  he  con- 
cluded to  reconnoitre  the  eastern  front.'  A  few-  steps  brought  him  to 
the  corner,  and  there  lay  the  veranda  before  him,  bathed  at  its  farther 
end  in  a  flood  of  light  tiiat  streamed  from  one  opened  Venetian  window, 
and  through  this  curtained  aperture  poured  the  grand   tones  of  the 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  7g3 

melody.  "  That  fellow  can  rattle  more  music  out  of  a  piano  than  any 
man  I  ever  heard,"  muttered  Mr.  Perry  to  himself,  as  he  strode  down 
the  wooden  gallery.  "  Wonder  if  it's  that  boss  cow-puncher  I  met  this 
morning."  Another  moment,  and  he  stood  at  the  open  window,  rooted 
to  the  spot,  and  with  his  frank  blue  eyes  fairly  starting  from  their 
sockets  in  amazement  at  the  sight  that  met  them,  all  unprepared. 

Across  a  spacious  room,  hung  with  rich  curtains,  carpeted  with 
costly  rugs  of  Oriental  make,  furnished  with  many  a  cosey  chair  and 
couch,  and  tables  covered  with  dainty  bric-ci-brac,  and  shelves  with 
tempting  books,  lighted  by  several  large  and  beautiful  astral  lamps, 
some  with  colored  shades  of  crimson  and  gold  and  delicate  tint  of  blue, 
there  stood  close  to  the  opposite  wall  a  large  piano  of  the  class  known 
as  the  "grand,"  rare  enough  among  the  railway  towns  west  of  the 
Mississippi  States,  but  utterly  unlocked  for  here,  a  week's  long  march 
from  the  nearest  of  the  Texan  railways.  That  in  itself  were  sufficient 
cause  for  much  surprise,  notwitlistanding  the  measure  of  preparation 
he  had  had  in  Mrs.  Lawrence's  remarks. 

The  sight  that  wellnigh  took  his  breath  away  was  something  far 
more  than  the  interior  of  a  luxurious  and  beautifully-appointed  room. 
Nothing  that  had  been  said  or  hinted  prepared  him  in  the  faintest  degree 
for  the  apparition,  facing  him,  seated  at  the  piano,  of  a  performer  utterly 
unlike  the  "cow-puncher"  whom  he  had  met  in  the  morning.  The 
"  fellow"  now  bending  over  the  key-board  was  a  young,  exquisitely  fair, 
and  graceful  woman.  Even  as  he  stood  there  in  the  full  glare  of  the 
parlor  lights,  she  lifted  up  a  pair  of  soft,  shaded,  lustrous  eyes  and  saw 
him. 

The  music  stopped  with  sudden  shock.  Tannhauser  was  undone. 
The  firm,  white,  shapely  hands  fell  nerveless  in  her  lap  ;  a  pallor  as  of 
faintness  shot  over  the  wild-eyed  face,  only  to  be  instantly  succeeded  by 
a  flush  that  surged  up  to  the  very  brows.  Startled  she  might  have 
been  for  an  instant ;  scared, — not  a  bit  of  it !  One  instant  only  of 
hesitation,  then  she  rose  and  swept  gallantly  forward  to  meet  him. 

Instinctively  Perry's  hand  went  up  to  the  visor  of  his  forage-cap 
and  bared  the  bright,  curling  crop  of  hair.  Speechless  with  amaze,  he 
could  only  bow  before  her  and  wait  her  question ;  but  it  was  a  moment 
before  she  could  speak.  Brave  as  she  was,  the  sudden  apparition  of  a 
stranger  staring  in  upon  her  solitude  from  an  open  casement  was  a  shock 
that  served  to  paralyze  the  vocal  cords.  He  could  see  that  she  was 
making  gallant  effort  to  control  the  tremor  that  had  seized  upon  her 
and  to  inquire  the  purpose  of  his  coming.  He  could  see,  too,  that  the 
sight  of  the  uniform  had  reassured  her,  and  that  there  was  neither 
indignation  nor  displeasure  in  her  beautiful  eyes.  Reserve,  of  course, 
he  expected. 

"  Did  you  wish  to  see  any  one  ?"  was  finally  the  form  her  question 
took  ;  and  Perry  had  time  to  comment  to  himself,  "  English,  by  Jove  !" 
before  he  answered, — 

"  I  did  ;  but  let  me  first  ask  your  pardon  for  this  intrusion.  I  had 
no  idea  there  was  a  woman  at  Dunraven.  My  knocking  at  the  front 
brought  no  answer,  and,  hearing  the  piano,  I  followed  the  veranda. 
Believe  me,  I  am  as  surprised  as  you  could  possibly  have  been." 


784  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

Perry's  voice  was  something  greatly  in  his  favor.  It  was  modu- 
lated and  gentle  when  in  conversation,  and  with  even  a  caressing  tone 
about  it  when  he  spoke  to  women.  Evidently  the  sound  was  not  un- 
welcome to  this  one.  She  stood  erect,  her  fingers  interlacing  as  she 
clasped  her  hands  in  front  of  her  and  looked  him  well  over  with  her 
brave  eyes.  The  color  ebbed  and  flowed  through  the  creamy  whiteness 
of  her  face,  but  the  roses  were  winning  every  moment, — the  red  roses 
of  the  house  of  Lancaster. 

"  And — ^you  wished  to  see — whom  ?"  she  presently  asked,  with  cour- 
tesy in  every  word. 

"  Why,  I  hardly  know,"  answered  Perry,  with  a  smile  that  showed 
his  white  teeth  gleaming  through  the  curling  blond  moustache.  "A 
sergeant  of  my  troop  has  been  missing  since  morning.  His  horse  came 
back  to  the  fort  just  as  we  were  on  parade  at  sunset,  bleeding  and 
without  his  rider.  We  have  searching-parties  out  all  over  the  prairie, 
and  I  was  ordered  to  come  here  to  the  ranch  to  make  inquiries." 

She  hesitated  a  moment, — thinking. 

"  My  father  is  at  home,  but  I  fear  he  is  not  well  enough  to  see  you. 
Mr.  Ewen  is  with  him,  and  he  might  know.  Will  you — would  you 
step  in  one  moment,  and  I  will  go  and  ask  ?" 

"  Thank  you  very  much.  I  wish  you  would  not  trouble  yourself. 
I  presume  I  can  go  over  to  those  stable-buildings,  or  wherever  it  is  the 
men  sleep :  they  would  be  most  apt  to  know  if  our  sergeant  has  been 
seen." 

"  Oh,  no  !  it  is  no  trouble ;  besides,  they  are  all  asleep  over  thei'e  by 
this  time,  I  fancy.    They  have  to  be  out  so  very  early,  don't  you  know  ?" 

But  Perry  had  stepped  inside  even  as  he  offered  to  go  elsewhere, — 
a  fact  that  the  girl  had  not  been  slow  to  notice,  for  a  quizzical  little 
shadow  of  a  smile  hovered  for  an  instant  at  the  corners  of  her  pretty 
mouth.  "  Pray  sit  down,"  she  said,  as  she  vanished  into  an  adjoining 
room,  leaving  Ned  Perry  standing  gazing  after  her,  spell-bound. 

He  listened  to  the  swish  of  her  trailing  skirts  through  the  dimly- 
lighted  room  beyond,  through  an  invisible  hall-way,  and  then  to  the 
quick  pit-a-pat  of  her  feet  up  some  uncarpeted  stairway.  He  heard 
her  moving  quickly,  lightly,  along  the  corridor  of  the  upper  story  until 
the  foot-falls  were  lost  at  the  rear  of  the  house,  then  a  distant  tap  upon 
a  door-way,  and  a  soft  voice,  barely  audible,  calling,  "  Papa."  He  heard 
her  speak  again,  as  though  in  response  to  inquiry  "from  within  ;  he 
heard  her  raise  her  voice,  as  though  to  repeat  an  answer  to  a  previous 
question,  and  this  time  her  words  were  distinct.  "  An  oflBcer  from  the 
fort,"  she  announced  ;  and  then  followed  sensation. 

He  heard  a  door  quickly  opened ;  he  heard  men's  voices  in  low, 
eager,  excited  talk ;  he  heard  her  sweet  tones  once  more,  as  though  in 
expostulation,  saying  something  about  the  sergeant,  lost  or  wounded, 
and  they  were  merely  inquiring  for  him ;  he  heard  a  stern,  harsh  in- 
junction of  "Silence!  that  will  do!"  some  quick,  hurrying  footsteps, 
a  man's  spurred  boots  descending  some  staircase  at  the  back  of  the 
house,  a  colloquy  aloft  in  fainter  tones,  and  then — closing  doors  and 
silence.  He  waited  five — ten  minutes,  and  still  no  one  came ;  but  the 
murmur  of  voices  in  subdued  but  earnest  controversy  was  again  audible 


DUN  RAVEN  RANCH.  735 

on  the  second  floor,  and  at  last  a  door  was  opened  and  he  heard  the 
same  stern  tones  that  had  commanded  her  silence  before,  and  this  time 
they  said, — 

"  That  is  entirely  my  afikir !  I  will  see  the  gentleman  myself,  and 
let  him  know  my  opinion  of  this  impudent  and — and — burglarious 
intrusion." 

"  Whew !"  whistled  Mr.  Perry  to  himself  at  sound  of  these  men- 
acing words.  "  This  is  bearding  the  lion  in  his  den  with  a  vengeance  ! 
Now  trot  out  your  '  Douglas  in  his  hall,'  and  let's  see  what  it  all  means. 
I've  seen  the  girl,  anyhow,  and  he  can't  take  thM  back,  even  if  he  turns 
me  out." 

He  heard  a  heavy  step,  accented  by  the  sharp,  energetic  prodding 
of  a  cane ;  it  came  slowly  along  the  hall,  slowly  and  majestically  down 
the  stairs,  slowly  into  the  lower  front  room,  and  presently  there  loomed 
forth  from  the  darkness  into  the  broad  glare  of  the  astrals  at  the  hang- 
ing portih-es  the  figure  of  a  tall,  gray-haired,  spectacled,  slimly-built, 
and  fragile-looking  Englishman,  erect  as  pride  and  high  spirit  could 
hold  a  man  against  the  ravages  of  age  and  rheumatism ;  sharp,  stern, 
and  imperious  of  mood,  as  every  glance  and  every  feature  plainly 
told  ;  vehement  and  passionate,  unless  twitching  lips  and  frowning 
brows  and  angry,  snapping  eyes  belied  him ;  a  man  who  had  suffered 
much,  unless  the  deep  lines  and  sliadows  under  eyes  and  mouth  meant 
nothing  but  advancing  years ;  a  man  who  entered  full  of  wrath  and 
resentment  at  this  invasion  of  his  privacy, — this  forcing  of  his  guarded 
lines ;  and  yet — a  gentleman,  unless  Ned  Perry's  instincts  were  all  of 
little  worth. 

The  young  soldier  had  been  standing  by  a  centre-table,  coolly 
scanning  the  pictures  on  the  walls,  and  determining  to  present  a  rather 
exaggerated  picture  of  nonchalance  as  reward  for  the  hostile  language  of 
the  proprietor  of  Dunraven.  He  expected  to  hear  an  outburst  of  in- 
vective when  that  gentleman  reached  the  room ;  but  no  sooner  had  he 
passed  the  portihe  than  he  halted  short,  and  Mr.  Perry,  turning  sud- 
denly, was  amazed  at  the  pale,  startled,  yet  yearning  look  in  his  quiv- 
ering face.  The  moment  the  young  man  confronted  him  there  came  as 
sudden  a  change.  It  was  with  evident  eifort  that  he  controlled  himself, 
and  then,  after  brief  searching  study  of  Perry's  face,  accosted  him, — 
coldly  and  with  sarcastic  emphasis  : 

"  To  what  circumstance  do  I  owe  the  honor  of  this  intrusion  ?" 

"  I  regret  you  so  consider  it,  Mr.  Maitland, — as  I  believe  you  to 

be "     The  old  gentleman  bowed  with  stately  dignity.     "  One  of  our 

men,  a  sergeant,  rode  down  this  way  quite  early  this  morning  and  failed 
to  return.  His  horse  came  back,  bleeding,  at  sunset,  and  we  feared 
some  accident  or  trouble.  Searching-parties  are  out  all  over  the 
prairies,  and  the  colonel  ordered  me  to  inquire  here." 

"  Does  your  colonel  take  us  for  banditti  here,  and  ascribe  your  de- 
sertions and  accidents  to  our  machinations  ?" 

"  Far  from  it,  sir,  but  rather  as  a  hospitable  refuge  to  which  the 
injured  man  had  been  conveyed,"  answered  Perry,  with  a  quiet  smile, 
determined  to  thaw  the  hauteur  of  Dunraven's  lord  if  courtesy  of 
manner  could  effect  it. 


786  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

"  He  is  utterly  mistaken,  then,"  answered  the  Englishman,  "  and  I 
resent — I  resent,  sir,  this  forcing  of  my  gates  after  the  explicit  un- 
derstanding we  had  last  year.  As  a  soldier  I  presume  you  had  to  obey 
your  orders ;  but  I  beg  you  to  tell  your  colonel  that  his  order  was  an 
affront  to  me  personally,  iu  view  of  what  has  passed  between  us." 

"  Nothing  has  passed  between  you,  Mr.  Maitland,"  answered  Perry, 
a  little  tartly  now.  "  We  have  reached  Fort  Rossiter  only  within  the 
last  fortnight,  and  know  nothing  whatever  of  your  understandings 
with  previous  commanders.  Permit  me  to  ask  you  one  question,  and 
I  will  retire.     Have  you  heard  anything  of  our  sergeant  f 

"  Nothing,  sir.  I  would  hardly  be  apt  to  hear,  for  my  people  here 
are  enjoined  to  keep  strictly  to  our  limits,  and  all  we  ask  of  our  neigh- 
bors is  that  they  keep  to  theirs.  I  presume  you  have  destroyed  my 
fences,  sir,  in  order  to  effect  an  entrance." 

"  Upon  my  word,  Mr.  Maitland,  you  make  me  rather  regret  that  I 
did  not ;  but  I  had  the  decency  to  respect  what  I  had  happened  to  hear 
of  your  wishes,  and  so  left  my  horse  and  my  men  outside,  and  footed 
it  a  good  half-mile  in  the  dark " 

"  Ah !  that  sounds  very  like  it !"  replied  Mr.  Maitland,  with 
writhing  lips,  for  at  this  moment  there  came  the  dull  thunder  of 
rapidly-advancing  hoof-beats,  and  before  either  man  could  speak  again 
three  troopers  with  a  led  horse — all  four  steeds  panting  from  their 
half-mile  race — reined  up  in  front  of  the  eastern  portico  in  the  full 
glare  of  the  lights,  and  the  sergeant's  voice  was  heard  eagerly  hailing 
his  lieutenant. 

"  My  luck  again  !"  groaned  Perry.  "  I  told  them  to  come  in  half 
an  hour  if  they  didn't  hear  from  me,  and  of  course  they  came." 

VII. 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence  in  the  brightly-illuminated  room. 
With  flushed  face  and  swollen  veins  and  twitching,  clutching  hands,  old 
Maitland  stood  there  glaring  at  the  young  officer.  Before  Perry  could 
speak  again,  however,  and  more  fully  explain  the  untoward  circum- 
stance, there  came  a  rush  of  hurrying  footsteps  without,  and  the  sound 
of  excited  voices.  The  next  minute  they  heard  an  eager,  angry  chal- 
lenge, and  Perry  recognized  the  voice  of  the  overseer  or  manager  whom 
he  had  met  in  the  morning. 

"  What  do  you  fellows  want  here  ?"  was  his  brusque  and  loud  in- 
quiry as  he  sprang  from  the  piazza  and  stood  confronting  the  sergeant, 
who  was  quietly  seated  in  the  saddle,  and  the  question  was  promptly 
echoed  by  three  or  four  burly  men  who,  in  shirt-sleeves  and  various 
styles  of  undress,  came  tumbling  in  the  wake  of  their  leader  and  stood 
now  a  menacing  group  looking  up  at  the  silent  troopers. 

If  there  be  one  thing  on  earth  that  will  stir  an  Irishman's  soul  to 
its  inmost  depths  and  kindle  to  instant  flame  the  latent  heat  of  his  pug- 
nacity, it  is  just  such  an  inquiry  in  the  readily  recognized  accent  of  the 
hated  "  Sassenach."  Perry  recognized  the  danger  in  a  flash,  and, 
springing  through  the  open  casement,  interposed  between  the  hostile 
parties. 


DVNRAVEN  RANCH.  787 

"  Not  a  word,  Sergeant  Leary.  Here,  Mr.  Manager,  these  men 
simply  obeyed  orders,  and  I  am  responsible  for  any  mistake.  No  harm 
was  intended " 

"  Harm !"  broke  in  one  of  the  ranchmen,  with  a  demonstratively 
loud  laugh.  "  Harm  be  blowed  !  What  harm  could  you  do,  I'd  like 
to  know?  If  the  master'll  only  say  the  word,  we'd  Break  your  heads 
in  a  minute." 

"  Quiet,  now,  Dick  !"  interposed  the  overseer ;  but  the  other  hands 
growled  approval,  and  Perry's  eyes  flashed  with  anger  at  the  insult. 
What  reply  he  might  have  made  was  checked  by  the  sight  of  Sergeant 
Leary  throwing  himself  from  the  saddle  and  tossing  his  reins  to  one 
of  the  men.  He  knew  well  enough  what  that  meant,  and  sprang  in- 
stantly in  front  of  him. 

"  Back  to  your  horse,  sir  !  Back,  instantly !"  for  the  sergeant's 
face  was  fierce  with  rage.  "  Mount,  I  say  !"  added  the  lieutenant,  as 
the  sergeant  still  hesitated,  and  even  the  sense  of  discipline  could  not 
keep  the  mounted  troopers  from  a  muttered  word  of  encouragement. 
Slowly,  wrathfully,  reluctantly,  the  soldier  obeyed,  once  turning  furi- 
ously back  as  jeering  taunts  were  hurled  at  him  from  among  the 
ranchers,  unrebuked  by  their  manager.  "  Now  move  off  with  your 
men  to  the  gate.  Leave  my  horse,  and  wait  for  me  there.  Go  !"  added 
the  young  officer,  sternly ;  and,  with  bitter  mortification  at  heart  and  a 
curse  stifled  on  his  quivering  lips,  the  Irishman  turned  his  horse's  head 
away  and  slowly  waived  him  in  the  indicated  direction. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Manager,"  said  Perry,  turning  fiercely  upon  the  younger 
Englishman,  "  I  have  done  my  best  to  restrain  my  men  :  do  you  look 
out  for  yours.  You  have  allowed  them  to  insult  me  and  mine,  and 
you  may  thank  your  stars  that  discipline  prevailed  with  my  people, 
though  you  have  nothing  of  the  kind  here." 

"  Your  men  have  cut  down  our  fences,  by  your  order,  I  presume," 
said  the  manager,  coolly,  "  and  it's  lucky  for  them  they  got  out  of  the 
way  when  they  did.  We  have  a  right  to  protect  our  property  and  eject 
intruders,  and " 

"  I  came  here  to  inquire  for  a  missing  man, — a  right  even  an  Eng- 
lishman cannot  deny  us  on  these  prairies.  We  had  excellent  reason  to 
believe  him  injured,  and  thought,  not  knowing  you  for  the  inhospitable 
gang  you  are,  that  he  might  have  been  carried  in  here  for  treatment : 
there  was  no  other  place.  Your  proprietor  tells  me  he  is  not  here. 
After  what  I've  seen  of  your  people,  I  have  reason  to  be  still  more 
anxious  about  him.  Scant  mercy  a  single  trooper  would  have  had  at 
their  hands.  Now  I  ask  you,  Do  you  know  or  have  you  heard  of  a 
cavalry  soldier  being  seen  around  here  during  the  day?" 

Perry  was  standing  holding  his  horse  by  the  curb  as  he  spoke,  facing 
the  parlor  windows  and  confronting  the  angry  group  of  ranchmen. 
Within,  though  nearer  the  window  than  he  had  left  him,  was  the  bent 
form  of  the  owner  of  Dunraven,  leaning  on  his  cane  and  apparently 
impatiently  striving  to  make  himself  heard  as  he  came  forward.  Be- 
fore the  manager  could  answer,  he  was  compelled  to  turn  about  and 
rebuke  his  men,  two  of  whom  were  especially  truculent  and  menacing. 
Finally  he  spoke : 


788  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

"  I  have  heard  nothing,  but  I  tell  you  frankly  that  if  any  of  your 
men  have  been  prowling  around  here  it's  more  than  probable  some  one 
has  got  hurt.     Has  there  been  any  trouble  to-day,  men  ?"  he  asked. 

"  By  God,  there  will  be  if  this  ranch  isn't  cleared  in  five  minutes," 
was  the  only  answer. 

"  Don't  make  an  ass  of  yourself,  Hoke,"  growled  the  manager. 
"  They  are  going  quick  enough." 

"  I  am  going,"  said  Perry,  swinging  lightly  into  saddle  ;  "  aud  mind 
you  this,  sir :  I  go  with  well-warranted  suspicion  that  some  of  these 
bullies  of  yours  have  been  responsible  for  the  non-appearance  of  my 
stable-sergeant.  If  he  is  not  found  this  night,  you  may  confidently 
look  for  another  visit.  I  say  that  to  you  also,  Mr.  Maitland ;  and  you 
owe  it  to  our  forbearance  that  there  has  been  no  bloodshed  here  to-night." 

Old  Maitland's  tremulous  tones  were  heard  but  a  second  in  rejjly 
when  he  M'as  interrupted  by  a  coarse  voice  from  the  crowd  of  ranch- 
men, by  this  time  increased  to  nearly  a  dozen  men.  Some  of  them 
were  gathering  about  Perry  as  he  sat  in  the  saddle,  and  an  applauding 
echo  followed  the  loud  interruption, — 

"  Give  the  swell  a  lift.  Tummy :  'twill  teach  him  better  manners." 

Almost  instantly  Perry  felt  his  right  foot  grasped  and  a  powerful 
form  was  bending  at  the  stirrup.  He  had  heard  of  the  trick  before. 
Many  a  time  has  the  Loudon  cad  unhorsed  the  English  trooper,  taken 
unawares,  by  hurling  him  with  sudden  lift  from  below.  But  Perry 
was  quick  and  active  as  a  cat.  Seat  and  saddle,  too,  were  in  his  favor. 
He  simply  threw  his  weight  on  the  left  foot  and  his  bridle-hand  upon 
the  pommel,  let  the  right  leg  swing  over  the  horse's  back  until  re- 
leased from  the  brawny  hand,  then  back  it  came  as  he  settled  again  in 
the  saddle,  his  powerful  thighs  gripping  like  a  vise ;  at  the  same 
instant,  and  before  his  assailant  could  duck  to  earth  and  slip  out  of  the 
way,  he  had  whipped  out  the  heavy  Colt's  revolver  and  brought  its 
butt  with  stunning  crash  down  on  the  ranchman's  defenceless  head. 

There  was  instant  rush  and  commotion.  In  vain  old  Maitland 
feebly  piped  his  protests  from  the  veranda  ;  in  vain  the  overseer  seized 
and  held  back  one  or  two  of  the  men  and  furiously  called  oiF  the  rest. 
Aided  by  the  darkness  which  veiled  them,  the  others  made  a  simulta- 
neous rush  upon  the  young  officer  and  sought  to  drag  him  from  his 
plunging  horse.  Perry  held  his  pistol  high  in  air,  threatening  with  the 
butt  the  nearest  assailant,  yet  loath  to  use  further  force.  He  was  still 
in  the  broad  glare  of  the  parlor  lights, — a  conspicuous  mark  ;  eager 
hands  had 'grasped  his  bridle-rein  at  the  very  bit,  and  he  could  not 
break  away ;  and  then  missiles  began  to  fly  about  his  devoted  head,  and 
unless  he  opened  fire  he  was  helpless.  While  two  men  firmly  held 
Nolan  by  the  curb,  half  a  dozen  others  were  hurling  from  the  ambush 
of  darkness  a  scattering  volley  of  wooden  billets  and  chunks  of  coal. 
He  could  easily  have  shot  down  the  men  who  held  him.  It  was  sore 
temptation,  for  already  he  had  been  struck  and  stung  by  unseen  projec- 
tiles ;  but  just  as  the  manager  sprang  forward  and  with  vigorous  cuffs 
induced  the  men  to  loose  their  hold  on  his  rein,  there  came  three  horse- 
men charging  full  tilt  back  into  the  crowd,  scattering  the  assailants 
right  and  left ;  and,  this  time  unrebuked,  Sergeant  Leary  leaped  from 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  789 

the  saddle  aud  with  a  rage  of  fierce  delight  pitched  headlong  into  battle 
with  the  biggest  ranchman  in  his  way.  And  this  was  not  all ;  for 
behind  them  at  rapid  trot  came  other  troopers,  aud  in  a  moment  the 
open  space  was  thronged  with  eager,  wondering  comrades, — full  half  of 
Stryker's  company, — in  whose  overwhelming  presence  all  thought  of 
promiscuous  combat  seemed  to  leave  the  ranchmen.  They  slipped  away 
in  the  darkness,  leaving  to  their  employers  the  embarrassment  of  ac- 
counting for  their  attack.  Leary  was  still  fuming  with  wrath  and 
raging  for  furtlier  battle  and  shouting  into  the  darkness  fierce  invective 
at  the  vanished  head  of  his  opponent.  He  turned  on  the  overseer  him- 
self, and  but  for  Perry's  steru  and  sudden  prohibition  would  have  had 
a  round  with  him,  but  was  forced  to  content  himself  with  the  informa- 
tion conveyed  to  all  within  hearing  that  he'd  "  fight  any  tin  min"  the 
ranch  contained  if  they'd  only  come  out  where  the  lieutenant  couldn't 
stop  him.  The  troopers  were  making  eager  inquiry  as  to  the  cause  of 
all  the  trouble,  and,  fearing  further  difficulty,  Perry  promptly  ordered 
the  entire  party  to  "  fall  in."  Silence  and  discipline  were  restored  in  a 
moment,  aud  as  the  platoon  formed  rank  he  inquired  of  a  sergeant  how 
they  came  to  be  there.  The  reply  was  that  it  had  grown  so  dark  on 
the  prairie  that  further  search  seemed  useless.  Captain  Stryker  and  most 
of  the  men  had  been  drawn  off  by  signals  from  the  Cheyennes  up  the 
valley  towards  the  post,  and  these  men,  who  had  been  beyond  Dunraven 
on  the  northern  prairie,  were  coming  back  along  the  Monee  trail  when 
they  saw  the  lights  and  heard  voices  over  at  the  lower  shore.  There 
they  found  Leary,  who  was  excited  about  something,  and  before  they 
had  time  to  ask  he  suddenly  shouted,  "  They're  killin'  the  lieutenant. 
Come  on,  boys !"  and  galloped  off  with  his  own  party  :  so  they  fol- 
lowed. Perry  quietly  ordered  them  to  leave  a  corporal  and  four  men 
with  him,  and  told  the  senior  sergeant  to  march  the  others  back  to 
the  post :  he  would  follow  in  five  minutes.  Then  he  turned  to  the 
manager : 

"  You  will  have  to  put  up  with  my  keeping  some  of  my  men  with 
me,  in  view  of  all  the  circumstances,"  he  said,  coldly.  "  But  after  this 
exhibition  of  lawlessness  on  the  part  of  your  people  I  do  not  propose 
to  take  any  chances.  I  want  to  say  to  you  that  it  is  my  belief  that 
some  of  those  ruffians  you  employ  can  tell  what  has  become  of  our 
missing  man,  and  that  you  will  do  well  to  investigate  to-night.  As  to 
you,  Mr.  Maitland,"  he  said,  turning  to  the  old  gentleman,  who  had 
sunk  into  a  low  easy-chair,  "  much  as  I  regret  having  disturbed  your 
privacy  and — that  of  the — ladies  of  your  household,  you  will  admit 
now  that  justice  to  my  men  and  to  the  service  demands  that  I  should 
report  my  suspicions  and  my  reception  here  to  the  commanding  officer 
at  Fort  Rossiter." 

There  was  no  reply.    . 

"  I  wish  you  good-night,  sir,"  said  Perry ;  but  his  eyes  wandered 
in  to  the  lighted  parlor  in  search  of  a  very  different  face  and  form, — 
and  still  there  was  no  answer. 

The  manager  came  back  upon  the  piazza  and  stepped  rapidly 
towards  them.  Perry  quickly  dismounted  and  bent  down  over  the 
crouching  figure. 


790  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

"  Why,  here  !"  he  suddenly  exclaimed,  "  your  employer  is  faint,  or 
— something's  gone  wrong." 

"  Hush  !"  was  the  low-spoken,  hurried  answer  of  the  Englishman. 
"  Just  bear  a  hand,  will  you,  and  help  me  lift  him  to  yonder  sofa  ?" 

Easily,  between  them,  they  bore  the  slight,  attenuated  form  of  the 
old  man  into  the  lighted  parlor.  A  deathly  pallor  had  settled  on  his 
face.  His  eyes  were  closed,  and  he  seemed  fallen  into  a  deep  swoon. 
Perry  would  have  set  a  cushion  under  his  head  as  they  laid  him  down 
on  a  broad,  easy  couch,  but  the  manager  jerked  it  away,  lowering  the 
gray  hairs  to  the  very  level  of  the  back,  so  that  the  mouth  gaped  wide 
and  looked  like  death  itself. 

"Just  steady  his  head  in  that  position  one  minute,  like  a  good 
fellow.  I'll  be  back  in  a  twinkling,"  said  the  manager,  as  he  darted 
from  the  room  and  leaped  hurriedly  up  the  hall  stairway. 

Perry  heard  him  rap  at  a  distant  door  apparently  at  the  southwest 
angle  of  the  big  house.  Then  his  voice  was  calling,  "  Mi-s.  Cowan ! 
Mrs.  Cowan  !  would  you  have  the  goodness  to  come  down  quick  ?  the 
master's  ill." 

Then,  before  any  answer  could  be  given,  another  door  opened  aloft, 
and  trailing  skirts  and  light  foot-falls  came  flashing  down  the  stairway. 
Almost  before  he  could  turn  to  greet  her,  she  was  in  the  room  again, 
and  with  quick,  impulsive  movement  had  thrown  herself  on  her  knees 
by  his  side. 

"  Oh,  papa  !  dear  father  !  I  was  afraid  of  this  !  Let  me  take  his 
head  on  my  arm,  so,"  she  hurriedly  murmured  ;  "and  would  you  step  in 
the  other  room  and  fetch  me  a  little  brandy  ?  'Tis  there  on  the  side- 
board." 

Perry  sprang  to  do  her  bidding,  found  a  heavy  decanter  on  the 
great  oaken  buffet,  half  filled  a  glass,  and  brought  it  with  some  water 
back  to  the  lounge.  She  stretched  forth  her  hand,  and,  thanking  him 
with  a  grateful  look  from  her  sweet,  anxious  eyes,  took  the  liquor  and 
carried  it  carefully  to  her  father's  ashen  lips. 

"  Can  I  not  help  you  in  some  way  ?  Is  there  no  one  I  can  call  ?*' 
asked  the  young  soldier,  as  he  bent  over  her. 

"  Mr.  Ewen  has  gone  for  her, — our  old  nurse,  I  mean.  She  does 
not  seem  to  be  in  her  room,  and  I  fear  she  has  gone  over  to  her  son's, — 
a  young  fellow  at  the  storehouse.  Mr.  Ewen  has  followed  by  this 
time." 

She  dipped  her  slender  white  fingers  in  the  water  and  sprinkled  the 
forehead  and  eyelids  of  the  prostrate  man.  A  feeble  moan,  followed 
by  a  deep-drawn  sigh,  was  the  only  response.  More  brandy  poured 
into  the  gaping  mouth  seemed  only  to  strangle  and  distress  him.  No 
sign  of  returning  consciousness  rewarded  her  effort. 

"  If  Mrs.  Cowan  would  only  come !  She  has  never  failed  us  be- 
fore ;  and  we  so  lean  upon  her  at  such  a  time." 

"  Pray  tell  me  which  way  to  go.  Surely  I  can  find  her,"  urged 
Perry. 

"  Mr.  Ewen  must  be  searching  for  her  now,  or  he  would  have 
returned  by  this  time ;  and  I  dread  being  alone.  I  have  never  been 
alone  with  father  when  he  has  had  such  a  seizure." 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  791 

Perry  threw  himself  on  his  knees  beside  her,  marvelling  at  the 
odd  fate  that  had  so  suddenly  altered  all  the  conditions  of  his  unlooked- 
for  visit.  He  seized  one  of  the  long,  tremulous  hands  that  lay  so 
nerveless  on  the  couch,  and  began  rapid  and  vigorous  chafing  and 
slapping.  Somewhere  he  had  read  or  heard  of  women  being  restored 
from  fainting-spells  by  just  such  means.  Why  should  it  not  pre- 
vail with  the  old  man  ?  He  vaguely  bethought  him  of  burnt 
feathers,  and  looked  about  for  the  discarded  pillow,  wondering  if  it 
might  not  be  a  brilliant  idea  to  cut  it  open  and  extract  a  handful  and 
set  it  ablaze  under  those  broad  and  eminently  aristocratic  nostrils. 
Happily,  he  was  spared  excuse  for  further  experiment.  He  felt  that 
life  was  returning  to  the  hand  he  was  so  energetically  grooming,  and 
that  feeble  but  emphatic  protest  against  such  heroic  treatment  was 
manifest. 

"  I  think  he's  coming  to,"  he  said.  "  He's  trying  to  pull  away. 
Shall  I  keep  on?" 

"  Yes,  do  !  Anything  rather  than  have  him  lie  in  this  death-like 
swoon." 

Obediently  he  clung  to  his  prize,  rubbing  and  chafing  hard,  despite 
increasing  tug  and  effort.  Then  came  another  feeble,  petulant  moan, 
and  the  hollow  eyes  opened  just  as  rapid  foot-falls  were  heard  on  the 
veranda  without  and  Mr.  Ewen  rushed  breathless  and  ruddy-faced  into 
the  room. 

"Where  on  earth  can  that  woman  have  gone?"  he  panted.  "I 
cannot  find  her  anywhere.     Is  he  better,  Miss  Gladys  ?" 

"  Reviving,  I  think,  thanks  to  Mr. thanks  to  you,"  she  said, 

turning  her  eyes  full  upon  the  kneeling  figure  at  her  side  and  sending 
Perry's  heart  up  into  his  throat  with  delight  at  the  gratitude  and  kind- 
ness in  her  glance.  She  was  striving  with  one  hand  to  unfasten  the 
scarf  and  collar  at  the  old  man's  neck,  but  making  little  progress. 

"  Let  me  help  you,"  eagerly  said  Perry.  "  That,  at  least,  is  more 
in  my  line."  And  somehow  their  fingers  touched  as  he  twisted  at  the 
stubborn  knot.  She  drew  her  hand  away  then,  but  it  was  gently,  not 
abruptly  done,  and  he  found  time  to  note  that  too,  and  bless  her  for  it. 

"  I  hate  to  seem  ungracious,  you  know,  after  all  that's  happened," 
said  Mr.  Ewen,  "  but  I  fear  'twill  vex  him  awfully  if  he  should  find 
you  in  here  when  he  comes  to.  He  has  had  these  attacks  for  some  time 
past,  and  I  think  he's  coming  through  all  right.     See  !" 

Old  Maitland  was  certainly  beginning  to  open  his  eyes  again  and 
look  vacantly  around  him. 

"  Better  leave  him  to  Miss  Gladys,"  said  the  overseer,  touching  the 
young  fellow  on  the  shoulder.  Perry  looked  into  her  face  to  read  her 
wishes  before  he  would  obey.  A  flush  was  rising  to  her  cheek,  a  cloud 
settling  about  her  young  eyes,  but  she  turned,  after  a  quick  glance  at 
her  father. 

"  I  cannot  thank  you  enough — now,"  she  said,  hesitatingly.  "  Per- 
haps Mr.  Ewen  is  right.  You — you  deserve  to  be  told  the  story  of  his 
trouble,  you  have  been  so  kind.  Some  day  you  shall  understand, — 
soon, — and  not  think  unkindly  of  us." 

"  Indeed  I  do  not  now,"  he  protested. 


792  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

"And — whom  are  we  to  thank? — your  name,  I  mean?"  she 
timidly  asked. 

"  I  am  Mr.  Perry,  of  the  — th  Cavahy.  We  have  only  come  to 
Fort  Rossiter  this  month." 

"  And  I  am  Miss  Maitlaud.  Some  day  I  can  thank  you."  And 
she  held  forth  her  long,  slim  hand.  He  took  it  very  reverently  and 
bowed  over  it,  courtier-like,  longing  to  say  something  that  might  fit  the 
occasion ;  but  before  his  scattered  senses  could  come  to  him  there  was 
another  quick  step  at  the  veranda,  and  a  voice  that  sounded  strangely 
familiar  startled  his  ears  : 

"  Gladys !  What  has  happened  ?"  And  there,  striding  to  the  sofa 
with  the  steps  of  one  assured  of  welcome  and  thoroughly  at  home  in 
those  strange  precincts,  came  Dr.  Quin. 

VIII. 

It  was  very  late  that  night — nearly  midnight — when  the  colonel, 
seated  on  his  veranda  and  smoking  a  cigar,  caught  sight  of  a  cavalry 
sergeant  hurriedly  passing  his  front  gate.  The  main  searching-parties 
had  long  since  come  home,  unsuccessful ;  Lieutenant  Perry  had  re- 
turned and  made  report  that  the  people  at  Dunraven  denied  having 
seen  or  heard  anything  of  Gwynne,  that  both  proprietor  and  manager 
had  treated  his  visit  as  an  affront,  and  that  he  had  had  much  difficulty 
in  preventing  a  fracas  between  his  men  and  a  gang  of  rough  fellows 
employed  at  the  ranch,  that  finally  Mr.  Maitlaud  had  fallen  back  in  a 
swoon,  and  that  he  had  left  him  to  the  care  of  Dr.  Quin,  who  arrived 
soon  after  the  occurrence.  The  colonel  had  been  greatly  interested  and 
somewhat  excited  over  the  details  of  Perry's  adventure  as  that  young 
gentleman  finally  gave  them,  for  at  first  he  was  apparently  averse  to 
saying  much  about  it.  Little  by  little,  however,  all  his  conversation 
with  Maitlaud  and  Ewen  was  drawn  out,  and  the  particulars  of  his 
hostile  reception.  The  colonel  agreed  with  him  that  there  was  grave 
reason  to  suspect  some  of  the  ranch-people  of  knowing  far  more  of 
Sergeant  Gwynne's  disappearance  than  they  would  tell ;  and  finally, 
seeing  Perry's  indisposition  to  talk  further,  and  noting  his  preoccupa- 
tion and  apparent  depression  of  spirits,  he  concluded  that  between 
fatigue  and  rasped  nerves  the  young  fellow  would  be  glad  to  go  to  bed: 
so  he  said,  kindly, — 

"  Well,  I  won't  keep  you,  Perry  :  you're  tired  out.  I'll  sit  up  and 
see  the  doctor  when  he  gets  back  and  have  a  talk  with  him,  then  decide 
what  steps  we  will  take  in  the  morning.  I'll  send  a  party  down  the 
valley  at  daybreak,  anyway.  May  I  offer  you  some  whiskey,  or  a 
bottle  of  beer  ?" 

"  Thank  you,  colonel,  I  believe  not  to-night.  A  bath  and  a  nap 
will  set  me  all  right,  and  I'll  be  ready  to  start  out  first  thing  in  the 
morning.     Good-night,  sir." 

But  Colonel  Brainard  could  not  go  to  sleep.  The  garrison  had 
"  turned  in,"  all  except  the  guard  and  Captain  Stryker.  That  officer 
had  returned  an  hour  after  dark,  and,  getting  a  fresh  horse,  had  started 
out  again,  going  down  the  south  side  of  the  Monee  to  search  the  timber 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  793 

with  lanterns,  the  Cheyenne  scouts  having  reported  that  Gwynne's  horse 
had  come  up  that  way.  He  had  been  missed  by  Mr.  Perry,  who  gal- 
loped up  the  trail  to  catch  the  platoon  before  it  reached  the  post,  and 
the  colonel,  now  that  he  had  heard  the  lieutenant's  story,  was  im- 
patiently awaiting  his  return.  Up  to  within  a  few  minutes  of  mid- 
night, however,  neither  Stryker  nor  the  doctor  had  come;  dim  lights 
were  burning  in  both  their  quarters  and  at  the  guard-house.  Every- 
where else  the  garrison  seemed  shrouded  in  darkness.  Catching  sight 
of  the  yellow  chevrons  as  they  flitted  through  the  flood  of  light  that 
poured  from  his  open  door-way,  the  colonel  instantly  divined  that  this 
must  be  a  sergeant  of  Stryker's  troop  going  in  search  of  his  captain, 
and  promptly  hailed  him  : 

"  What  is  it,  sergeant  ?     Any  news  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  soldier,  halting  short.  "  Sergeant  Gwynne's 
come  back.     I  was  going  to  the  captain's  to  report." 

"  How  did  he  get  back.     Isn't  he  injured  ?" 

"  He  says  he's  had  a  fall,  sir,  and  has  been  badly  shaken  up,  but 
he  walked  in." 

"  Why,  that's  singular  !  Did  he  meet  none  of  the  searching-par- 
ties ? — see  none  of  their  lights  ?" 

"  I  can't  make  out,  sir.  He's  a  little  queer, — doesn't  want  to  talk, 
sir.  He  asked  if  his  horse  got  in  all  right,  and  went  and  examined 
the  scratches,  and  seemed  troubled  about  them ;  but  he  doesn't  say 
anything." 

"  Has  he  gone  to  the  hospital  ?" 

"  No,  sir  :  he'll  sleep  in  his  usual  bunk  at  the  stables  to-night.  He 
is  only  bruised  and  sore,  he  says.  His'  face  is  cut  and  scratched  and 
bound  up  in  his  handkerchief." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  colonel,  after  a  moment's  thought.  "  The 
captain  will  look  into  the  matter  when  he  gets  back.  You  take  your 
horse  and  ride  down  the  south  side  of  the  valley  and  find  the  Chey- 
enne scouts.  Captain  Stryker  is  with  them.  Tell  him  the  sergeant  is 
home,  safe." 

"  Very  well,  sir."  And  the  trooper  saluted,  faced  about,  and  dis- 
appeared in  the  darkness ;  while  the  colonel  arose,  and,  puffing  thought- 
fully at  his  cigar,  began  pacing  slowly  up  and  down  the  piazza.  He 
wished  Stryker  were  home ;  he  wished  Captain  Lawrence  were  officer 
of  the  day,  and,  so,  liable  to  come  out  of  his  quarters  again  :  he  had 
heard  just  enough  about  that  odd  English  ranch  to  make  him  feel  dis- 
turbed and  ill  at  ease.  There  had  evidently  been  hostility  between  his 
predecessor  and  the  proprietor  of  Dunraven,  and  very  probably  there 
had  been  bad  blood  between  the  men  of  the  Eleventh  Cavalry  and  the 
employees  of  the  ranch  :  else  why  should  there  have  been  so  unprovoked 
an  assault  upon  the  lieutenant  this  night?  Tiien  there  were  other 
things  that  gave  him  disquiet.  Several  officers  had  gathered  upon  the 
piazza  during  the  early  evening ;  they  were  mainly  of  his  own  regi- 
ment, but  Captain  Belknap  and  two  of  the  infantry  subalterns  were 
there ;  Lawrence  did  not  come.  Of  course  the  talk  was  about  the 
incident  of  the  evening,  and,  later,  the  rumors  about  Dunraven.  All 
this  was  new  to  the  cavalrymen  :  they  had  heard,  as  yet,  nothing  at  all, 


794  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

and  were  not  a  little  taken  aback  by  the  evident  embarrassment  and 
ominous  silence  of  the  three  infantrymen,  when  the  colonel  turned 
suddenly  on  Belknap  with  the  question, — 

"  By  the  way,  captain,  I  had  no  time  to  ask  Lawrence,  and  it  really 
did  not  occur  to  me  until  after  he  had  gone,  but — what  did  he  mean 
by  saying  that  Dr.  Quin  could  tell  us  something  about  the  people  at 
Dunraven  ?" 

Belknap  turned  red  and  looked  uncomfortably  at  his  two  comrades, 
as  though  appealing  to  them  for  aid.  The  younger  officers,  however, 
would  say  nothing  at  all,  and  the  colonel  promptly  saw  that  he  had 
stumbled  on  some  piece  of  garrison  gossip. 

"  Never  mind,"  he  said,  with  a  kindly  laugh.  "  I  don't  want  to 
drag  any  stories  out  by  the  roots.  The  doctor  can  doubtless  explain 
it  all  in  good  season." 

"  Well,  Colonel  Braiuard,"  answered  Belknap,  bulkily,  "  to  tell  the 
truth,  I  really  don't  know  anything  about  it,  and  I  don't  know  any 
one  who  does,  though  I  have  heard  some  woman-talk  about  the  post. 
The  relations  between  Dr.  Quin  and  some  of  the  officers  of  the  Eleventh 
were  rather  strained,  and  he  is  a  somewhat  reserved  and  secretive  man. 
The  stories  were  set  afloat  here  last  fall,  and  we  had  to  hear  more  or 
less  of  them  until  the  Eleventh  went  away  this  spring.  We  know 
only  that  Dr.  Quin  has  been  to  Dunraven  and  the  rest  of  us  haven't. 
Possibly  some  of  the  Eleventh  were  piqued  because  they  had  no  such 
luck,  or  perhaps  their  ladies  did  not  like  it  because  Quin  wouldn't 
tell  them  anything  about  what  he  saw.  At  all  events,  he  refused  to 
talk  on  the  subject  at  all,  and  allowed  people  to  draw  their  own  conclu- 
sions." 

"  He  probably  told  his  post  commander,"  suggested  Lieutenant 
Farnham,  who,  as  acting  adjutant  of  the  post  and  an  aspirant  for  the 
adjutancy  of  the  regiment,  thought  it  a  good  opportunity  of  putting  in 
a  word  as  indicative  of  what  he  considered  the  bounden  duty  of  an 
officer  under  like  circumstances. 

"  Well,  no,  I  fancy  not,"  replied  Belknap.  "  About  the  only  thing 
we  really  do  know  is  that,  in  a  somewhat  angry  interview  last  fall, 
Colonel  Stratton  forbade  Dr.  Quin's  leaving  the  post  or  going  to  Dun- 
raven  without  his  express  permission.  I  happened  to  be  in  the  office 
at  the  time." 

"  Was  it  before  or  after  that  that  he  was  said  to  go  there  so  often  ?" 
asked  Farnham. 

"  Well,  both,"  answered  Belknap,  reluctantly.  "  But  understand 
me,  Mr.  Farnham,  I  know  nothing  whatever  of  the  matter." 

"  I  should  not  suppose  that  Colonel  Stratton  would  care  to  restrict 
his  post  surgeon  from  going  thither  if  they  needed  his  professional 
services,"  said  Colonel  Brainard,  pleasantly. 

"  That  was  the  point  at  issue,  apparently,"  answered  Belknap. 
"  Colonel  Stratton  said  that  it  was  not  on  professional  grounds  that 
he  went,  and  thereby  seemed  to  widen  the  breach  between  them.  Dr. 
Quin  would  not  speak  to  the  colonel  after  that,  except  when  duty  re- 
quired it." 

The  conversation  changed  here,  and  little  more  was  said ;  but  Colonel 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  795 

Brainard  could  not  help  thinking  of  a  matter  that  he  carefully  kept  to 
himself.  It  was  not  his  custom  to  require  his  officers  to  ask  permission 
to  leave  the  garrison  for  a  ride  or  hunt  when  they  were  to  be  absent 
from  no  duty,  and  only  by  day.  Here  it  was  midnight,  as  he 
thought  it  over,  and  the  doctor  had  not  returned,  neither  had  he  men- 
tioned his  desire  to  ride  away,  although  he  had  been  with  the  colonel 
wellnigh  an  hour  before  parade.  True,  he  had  sent  the  doctor  word  to 
go  and  join  Lieutenant  Perry  at  the  gate  of  Dunraven,  and  thai  would 
account  for  his  detention ;  but  he  knew  that  the  surgeon  was  several 
miles  away  from  his  post  and  his  patients  at  the  moment  that  message 
was  sent. 

Meantime,  Perry,  too,  was  having  a  communion  with  himself  and 
finding  it  all  vexation  of  spirit.  All  the  way  home  the  memory  of 
that  sweet  English  face  was  uppermost  in  his  thoughts.  He  had  been 
startled  at  the  sight  of  a  young  and  fair  woman  at  Dunraven  ;  he  had 
felt  a  sense  of  inexplicable  rejoicing  when  she  said  to  him,  "  I  am  Miss 
Maitland  ;"  it  would  have  jarred  him  to  know  that  she  was  wife ;  he 
was  happy,  kneeling  by  the  side  of  the  beautiful  girl  he  had  never  seen 
before  that  very  evening,  and  delighted  that  he  could  be  of  service  to  her. 
All  this  was  retrospect  worth  indulging ;  but  then  arose  tlie  black  shadow 
on  his  vision.  How  came  Dr.  Quin  striding  in  there  as  though  "  native 
and  to  the  manner  born"  ? — how  came  he  to  call  her  "  Gladys"  ?  Perry 
had  been  pondering  over  this  matter  for  full  half  an  hour  on  the 
homeward  ride  before  he  bethought  him  of  Mrs.  Lawrence's  remarks 
about  the  signal-lights.  One  thing  led  to  another  in  his  recollection 
of  her  talk.  The  doctor  answered  the  signals, — no  one  else  ;  the  doctor 
and  no  one  else  was  received  at  Dunraven  ;  the  doctor  had  declined  to 
answer  any  questions  about  the  people  at  the  ranch, — had  been  silent 
and  mysterious,  yet  frequent  in  his  visits.  And  then,  more  than  all, 
what  was  that  Mrs.  Lawrence  had  said  or  intimated,  that  Mrs.  Quin, 
"  such  a  lovely  woman,  too,"  had  taken  her  children  and  left  him  early 
that  spring,  and  all  on  account  of  somebody  or  something  connected 
with  Dunraven  Eanch  ?  Good  heavens  !  It  could  not  be  "  Gladys." 
And  yet 

Instead  of  taking  a  bath  and  going  to  bed,  Mr.  Perry  poked  his 
head  into  Parke's  bachelor  chamber  as  he  reached  the  little  cottage  they 
shared  in  common.  No  Gladys  disturbed  the  junior's  dreams,  ap- 
parently, for  he  was  breathing  regularly,  sleeping  the  sleep  of  the  just ; 
and  so,  finding  no  one  to  talk  to  and  being  in  no  mood  to  go  to  bed  at 
an  hour  so  comparatively  early  when  he  had  so  much  to  think  about, 
Perry  filled  a  pipe  and  perched  himself  in  a  big  chair  by  the  window- 
seat,  intending  to  think  it  all  over  again.  He  was  beginning  to  hate 
that  doctor :  he  would  have  chafed  at  the  idea  of  any  bachelor's  being 
before  him  in  an  acquaintance  with  Gladys  Maitland,  but  a  married 
man,  knowing  her  so  well  as  to  make  his  wife  jealous  and  himself  in- 
different to  that  fact, — knowing  her  so  well  as  to  drive  "  such  a  lovely 
woman,  too,"  into  taking  her  children  and  quitting  the  marital  roof, — 
that  was  too  much  of  a  bad  thing,  and  Perry  was  sore  discomfited. 
He  got  up,  impatient  and  restless,  passed  out  to  the  little  piazza  in  front 
of  his  quarters,  and  began  pacing  up  and  down,  the  glow  from  his  corn- 


796  DVNRAVEN  RANCH. 

cob  pipe  making  a  fiery  trail  in  the  darkness.  He  would  have  been 
glad  to  go  back  to  the  colonel  and  keep  watch  with  him  ;  but  there  was 
one  thing  connected  with  his  visit  to  Dunraven  that  he  could  not  bear 
to  speak  of,  especially  as  those  words  of  Mrs.  Lawrence  recurred  again 
and  again  to  his  memory.  He  had  not  said  one  word — he  did  not 
want  to  tell — of  Gladys  Maitland. 

And  so  it  happened  that  Perry,  too,  was  awake  and  astir  when  the 
footsteps  of  the  cavalry  sergeant  Avere  heard  on  their  way  to  Captain 
Stryker's  quarters.  Listening,  he  noted  that  the  soldier  had  halted  at 
the  colonel's,  held  a  brief  conversation  with  that  officer,  and  then  turned 
back  across  the  parade.  Instantly  divining  that  news  had  come  of 
Sergeant  Gwynne,  Perry  seized  his  forage-cap  and  hurried  in  pursuit. 
He  overtook  the  trooper  just  beyond  the  guard-house,  and  went  with 
him  eagerly  to  the  stables.  A  moment  more,  and  he  was  bending  over 
a  soldier's  bedside  in  a  little  room  adjoining  the  forage-shed  and  by  the 
light  of  a  dim  stable-lantern  looking  down  into  the  bruised  and  battered 
features  of  the  non-commissioned  officer  whom  he  had  pronounced  of 
all  others  at  Rossiter  the  most  respected  and  highly  thought  of  by  the 
cavalry  garrison. 

"  Sergeant,  I'm  very  sorry  to  see  you  so  badly  mauled,"  said  Perry. 
"  How  on  earth  did  it  happen  ?" 

Gwynne  turned  his  head  painfully  until  the  one  unbandaged  eye 
could  look  about  and  see  that  none  of  the  stable-guard  were  within 
hearing,  then  back  again  and  up  into  the  symphathetic  face  of  his 
young  superior. 

"  Lieutenant,  I  must  tell  you  and  the  captain;  and  yet  it  is  a  matter 
I  profoundly  wish  to  keep  as  secret  as  possible, — the  story  of  my  day's 
adventure,  I  mean." 

"  You  need  not  tell  me  at  all  if  you  do  not  wish  to,"  said  Perry ; 
"though  I  think  it  is  due  to  yourself  that  the  captain  should  know 
how  it  was  you  were  gone  all  day  and  that  your  horse  and  you  both 
came  back  in  such  condition." 

"  I  understand,  sir,  fully,"  answered  Gwynne,  respectfully.  "  I 
shall  tell  the  captain  the  whole  story,  if  he  so  desire.  Meantime,  I 
can  only  ask  that  no  one  else  be  told.  If  the  men  in  the  troop  had  an 
inkling  of  the  true  story  there  would  be  endless  trouble;  and  so  I  have 
tried  to  account  for  it  by  saying  my  horse  and  I  had  an  ugly  fall  while 
running  a  coyote  through  the  timber.  We  did  see  a  coyote,  down  near 
the  ranch  on  the  Monee,  and  I  did  have  an  ugly  fall :  I  was  set  upon 
by  three  of  those  ranchmen  and  badly  handled." 

"Yes,  damn  them  !"  said  Perry,  excitedly  and  wrathfully.  "I've 
had  an  experience  with  them  myself  to-night,  while  we  were  searching 
for  you." 

"  So  much  the  more  reason,  sir,  why  my  mishap  should  not  be  told 
among  the  men.  The  two  affairs  combined  would  be  more  than  they 
would  stand.  There  are  enough  Irishmen  here  in  our  troop  alone 
to  go  down  and  wipe  that  ranch  out  of  existence ;  and  I  fear  trouble 
as  it  stands," 

"  Whether  there  will  be  trouble  or  not  will  depend  very  much  on 
the  future  conduct  of  the  proprietor  and  manager  down  there.     Of 


DUN  RAVEN  RANCH.  797 

course  we  cannot  tolerate  for  an  instant  the  idea  of  their  maintaining  a 
gang  of  ruflSans  there  who  are  allowed  to  assault  officers  or  men  who 
happen  to  ride  around  that  neighborhood.  You  were  not  inside  their 
limits,  were  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  sergeant,  painfully,  "  I  was :  I  had  tied  my 
horse  outside  and  ventured  in  to  get  a  nearer  look  at  the  buildings." 
"  What  time  did  it  happen  ?" 

"This  morning,  sir;  not  more  than  an  hour  and  a  half  after  you 
spoke  to  me  in  the  valley." 

"  Indeed  !  Then  you  must  have  lain  there  all  day !  Why,  Gwynne, 
this  will  never  do.  I'll  go  and  get  the  surgeon  and  have  him  look  you 
over.  You  must  have  been  brutally  mauled,  and  must  be  utterly  ex- 
hausted." 

"  Don't  go,  sir,"  said  the  sergeant,  eagerly  stretching  forth  a  hand. 
"  It — it  isn't  as  you  think,  sir.  I  have  been  kindly  cared  for.  They're 
not  all  ruffians  down  there,  and  the  men  who  assaulted  me  will  be  fully 
punished.  I've  been  quite  as  well  nursed  and  fed  and  brandied  and 
bandaged  as  though  I'd  been  carried  right  to  hospital.  Indeed,  I 
don't  need  anything  but  rest.     I'll  be  all  right  in  a  day." 

"  But  I  think  Dr.  Quin  ought  to  see  you  and  satisfy  us  you  are  not 
injured." 

"  Be  satisfied,  sir.     The  doctor  has  seen  me." 

"  Why,  but  how  ? — where  ?  He  was  here  all  day,  and  only  went 
away  at  sunset.  He  joined  me  at  Dunraven  about  nine  o'clock,  and 
hadn't  returned  when  I  came  in.  Did  he  find  you  and  brine:  vou 
back?"  ^  ^ 

Gwynne  hesitated  painfully  again  : 

"  The  doctor  saw  me  this  evening, — down  near  where  I  was  hurt ; 
but  I  got  back  here  without  his  help,  sir.  Lieutenant,"  said  the 
soldier,  suddenly,  "  there  are  one  or  two  things  connected  with  this 
day's  work  that  I  cannot  tell.  Come  what  may,  I  must  not  speak  of 
them,  even  to  the  captain." 

Perry  was  silent  a  moment.  Then  he  kindly  answered, — 
"  I  do  not  think  any  one  here  will  press  you  to  tell  what  you  con- 
sider it  might  be  ungrateful  or  dishonorable  in  you  to  reveal.  I  will 
do  what  I  can  to  see  that  your  wishes  are  respected.  And  now,  if  you 
are  sure  I  can  do  nothing  for  you,  good-night,  sergeant."  And  the 
young  officer  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Good-night,  sir,"  answered  Gwynne.  He  hesitated  one  moment. 
It  was  the  first  time  since  he  entered  service,  nearly  five  years  before, 
that  an  officer  had  offered  him  his  hand.  It  was  a  new  and  strange 
sensation.  It  might  not  be  "  good  discipline"  to  take  advantage  of  it, 
but  there  were  other  reasons.  Gwynne  looked  up  in  the  frank  blue 
eyes  of  his  lieutenant  and  read  something  there  that  told  a  new  story. 
Out  came  a  hand  as  slender  and  shapely  as  that  of  the  young  officer, 
and  the  two  were  silently  and  firmly  clasped. 

"  How  can  I  question  him  ?"  said  Perry  to  himself  as  he  walked 
slowly  homeward.  "  Is  there  not  something  I  am  holding  back  ? — 
something  I  cannot  speak  of?  By  Jupiter !  can  his  be  the  same 
reason  ?" 

Vol.  XLII.— 52 


798  DUN  RAVEN  RANCH. 

IX. 

At  just  what  hour  the  post  surgeon  returned  to  Fort  Rossiter  that 
night  no  one  seemed  to  know.  He  was  present  at  sick-call,  and  im- 
perturbable as  ever,  on  the  following  morning,  and  the  few  officers  who 
were  at  head-quarters  after  guard-mounting  were  able  to  affirm  that  the 
colonel  had  been  courteous  as  usual  in  his  greeting  to  the  medical  officer, 
and  that  nothing  whatever  had  been  said  about  his  being  away  so  late 
the  previous  evening.  Captain  Stryker  came  home  soon  after  midnight, 
had  a  brief  talk  with  his  colonel,  and  went  over  to  the  stables  to 
inquire  into  Gwynne's  condition  before  he  went  to  bed.  Parke  came 
into  Perry's  room  after  morning  stables,  and  told  him,  as  he  was 
yawning  and  stretching  in  bed,  that  the  captain  had  had  quite  a  long 
talk  with  Gwynne  that  morning,  and  that  "  something  was  up," — he 
didn't  know  what.  Later  in  the  day  Perry  was  sent  for  by  Colonel 
Brainard,  and  found  the  commanding  officer  in  consultation  with 
Captain  Stryker  and  two  other  troop-commanders.  At  their  request 
he  repeated  the  story  of  his  adventure  at  Dunraven,  beginning  with 
his  instructions  to  the  men  he  left  at  the  gate,  and  ending  with  old 
Maitland's  swooning ;  and  about  an  hour  after  he  had  finished  he  saw 
the  adjutant  with  a  small  escort  ride  away  down  the  valley,  and  rightly 
conjectured  that  the  colonel  had  sent  a  letter  to  Dunraven  inquiring 
into  the  cause  of  the  assaults  on  two  members  of  his  command.  Bat- 
talion drill  kept  him  occupied  all  the  morning ;  a  garrison  court  con- 
vened at  noon  and  sat  until  skirmish  drill  began  at  three  p.m.  ;  and  so 
it  happened  that  not  until  near  parade  did  he  find  a  moment's  time  to 
himself  He  longed  to  see  Mrs.  Lawrence  and  question  her  as  to  the 
nature  of  the  "  Dunraven  stories"  she  had  mentioned ;  for  what  had 
been  a  matter  of  indifference  to  him  then  had  suddenly  become  of  vivid 
interest.  There  were  ladies  sitting  on  the  Lawrences'  gallery,  he  could 
plainly  see,  as  the  cavalry  officers  came  tramping  in  from  afternoon 
stables,  but  he  could  not  hope  to  ask  or  hear  anything  about  a  matter  so 
near  his  heart  in  the  presence  of  so  many  sympathetic  and  interested 
listeners.  He  kept  away  towards  his  own  gate,  therefore,  until  he  saw 
that  there,  leaning  on  the  gate-post,  and  apparently  awaiting  him,  stood 
Dr.  Quin. 

Perry  would  gladly  have  avoided  the  doctor  :  the  antagonism  he 
was  beginning  to  feel  for  him  was  of  a  character  that  would  hardly 
brook  concealment.  Cordial  and  joyous  in  manner  as  he  was  to  almost 
every  man,  woman,  and  child  he  met,  it  was  all  the  more  noticeable 
that  to  the  very  few  whom  he  held  in  dislike  or  distrust  his  bearing 
was  cold  and  repellent  in  the  last  degree.  Something  told  him  the 
doctor  was  there  to  speak  to  him  about  their  chance  meeting  at  Dun- 
raven. He  did  not  want  to  speak  to  him  at  all,  just  now.  Yet  how 
could  he  hope  to  have  these  matters  explained  without  a  meeting  and  a 
talk  ?  While  the  other  officers  strolled  over  and  stopped,  most  of  them, 
in  front  of  the  group  of  ladies  at  Lawrence's,  Perry  stalked  straight 
across  the  parade  and  the  boundary  road,  with  his  blue  eyes  fixed  on 
the  doctor's  face. 

The  latter  was  studying  him  as  he  came,  and  doubtless  read  that 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  799 

expression  of  coldness  and  distrust :  possibly  lie  resented  it.  At  all 
events,  something  prompted  him  to  speak  in  a  tone  less  cordial  than  he 
had  ever  employed  towards  Perry, — "  a  youngster  whom  I  thoroughly 
approve  of,"  as  he  said  before  he  had  known  him  a  week.  Still  leaning 
on  the  gate-post,  and  resting  his  head  on  his  hand,  the  doctor  began : 

"  Mr.  Perry,  I  have  been  to  see  you  twice  to-day,  but  could  not  find 
you,  and  I  wanted  to  speak  with  you  on  a  matter  of  some  importance." 

"  You  could  have  found  me  on  drill  or  the  court,  if  anything  im- 
mediate was  needed.  I  have  been  nowhere  else,  except  to  stables,"  said 
Perry,  shortly. 

"  It  was  a  personal  matter, — a  somewhat  embarrassing  one, — and  I 
thought  best  to  see  you  alone." 

"  Well,  here  I  am.  Dr.  Quin :  drive  ahead  and  let  us  have  it." 

"  I  wanted  to  ask  you  if,  while  you  were  at  the  ranch  last  night, 
you  saw  anything  of  a  large  signet-ring,  with  a  crest  and  motto  en- 
graved on  the  stone." 

"  I  did  not, — unless  you  mean  the  one  Mr.  Maitland  wore." 

"  The  very  one  !     You  noticed  that,  did  you  ?" 

"  I  noticed  he  had  something  of  the  kind  on  his  left  hand  when  he 
came  down." 

"  And  it  was  nowhere  to  be  found  after  you  went  away.  You  may 
remember  you  were  chafing  and  slapping  that  hand ;  and  I  thought 
you  might  have  accidentally  removed  it  at  that  time." 

"  The  reflection  is  not  a  pleasant  one.  Dr.  Quin,"  said  Perry,  with 
an  angry  light  in  the  bhie  eyes. 

"  Pardon  me,  Mr.  Perry :  I  put  it  awkwardly,  but  I  mean  no  re- 
flection whatever.  Miss  Maitland  mentioned  your  efforts  to  restore  the 
old  gentleman  to  consciousness,  and  together  we  searched  the  sofa  and 
the  floor  after  we  had  put  him  safely  to  bed  and  discovered  the  loss  of 
the  ring.  It  is  one  to  which  he  attaches  peculiar  value,  and  its  loss  has 
preyed  upon  him.  While  I  know  very  well  you  could  not  have  the 
ring,  I  was  asked  to  ascertain  if  you  remembered  seeing  it,  and  so  es- 
tablish the  truth  of  Mr.  Maitland's  belief  that  it  was  on  his  finger  when 
he  went  to  that  room." 

"  It  was  ;  but  I  do  not  recollect  its  being  on  his  hand  after  he  was 
carried  to  the  sofa.  It  would  surely  have  attracted  my  attention  while 
chafing  it." 

"  The  parlor,  hall,  and  piazza  have  been  swept  and  searched,  I  am 
told  by  this  note,"  and  the  doctor  indicated  a  little  missive  he  held  in 
his  hand,  whereat  Perry's  face  did  not  brighten,  "  and  with  no  success. 
I  was  ashed  to  inquire  of  you,  and  if  it  has  annoyed  you,  as  I  infer  by 
your  manner,  pray  let  that  be  my  apology.  Then  I  am  to  say  you  saw 
it  when  Mr.  Maitland  entered  the  room,  but  not  again  ?" 

"  Precisely ;  unless  you  choose  to  add  to  your  correspondent  that 
the  next  time  I  am  associated  with  missing  property  at  Dunraven  I 
would  prefer  to  be  questioned  direct,  and  not  through  a  third  party." 

A  quiet  smile  shone  for  an  instant  on  the  doctor's  grave  face : 

"  I  fear  that  I  have  not  accomplished  my  mission  very  diplomati- 
cally, Mr.  Perry,  and  am  sorry  to  have  vexed  you.  The  colonel  tells 
me,  by  the  way,  that  I  ought  to  say  to  you  that  the  reason  I  was  so  long 


300  DVNRAVEN  RANCH. 

in  reaching  your  party  last  night  was  that  I  was  detained  attending  to 
another  case, — one  of  our  own  men.  Good-evening,  sir."  And,  raising 
his  forage-cap,  the  doctor  walked  slowly  and  with  dignity  away,  leaving 
Perry  too  surprised  to  speak. 

"  The  colonel  told  him  to  tell  me  !"  was  Perry's  wondering  solilo- 
quy at  last.  "  Then  I  suppose  he  must  have  told  the  chief  some  story 
to  account  for  his  being  away."  It  was  pretty  evident  from  the  young 
fellow's  manner  as  he  entered  the  house  that  the  story  was  not  one 
which  struck  him  as  being  entitled  to  confidence  or  consideration. 

On  the  table  in  his  little  sitting-room  lay  a  dainty  note.  It  was 
not  the  first  he  had  received  under  that  superscription,  and  he  had  not 
been  slow  to  open  and  read  them.  If  anything,  the  cloud  upon  his 
forehead  seemed  to  deepen  at  sight  of  it.  He  picked  it  up,  looked 
impatiently  at  the  address,  hesitated  a  moment,  tossed  it  back  on  his 
desk,  and  went  into  the  inner  room.  He  would  not  read  it  now ;  it 
was  almost  parade-time ;  he  had  to  bathe  and  change  his  dress,  for  after 
parade  he  was  to  dine  at  the  quarters  of  an  infantry  friend,  and  Cap- 
tain and  Mrs.  Lawrence  were  to  be  of  the  party.  Already  it  was  noted 
that  when  any  of  the  few  infantry  people  at  the  post  gave  a  little  tea 
or  dinner  at  which  only  eight  or  ten  were  gathered  together,  the  Bel- 
knaps  were  not  invited  on  the  same  evening  with  Mr.  Perry,  and  vice 
versd.  When  Parke  came  in,  whistling  and  singing  and  banging  doors 
and  making  all  manner  of  uncouth  noise  in  the  exuberance  of  his  boyish 
spirits,  he  bolted  into  Perry's  domain,  as  was  his  wont,  and  began  a 
rattling  comment  on  the  events  of  the  day. 

"  By  the  way,"  he  broke  in,  suddenly,  "  we  can't  both  go  to-morrow ; 
and  I  suppose  you  want  to." 

"Go  where?" 

"  Why,  out  with  the  hounds :  to-morrow's  the  day,  you  know." 

Perry  gave  a  whistle  of  perplexity.  The  colonel  had  promised  the 
ladies  that  there  should  be  a  big  run  this  very  week.  All  the  fleet 
hounds  of  the  cavalry  battalion  were  to  be  out,  and  all  the  officers  who 
could  be  spared  from  the  day's  duties :  a  detachment  was  to  go  over 
into  the  valley  of  a  stream  some  ten  miles  away,  pitch  tents  in  the 
shade,  and  there  set  luncheon  for  the  entire  party ;  horses  were  to  be 
provided  for  all  the  ladies  who  cared  to  go  mounted,  buggies  and  "  buck- 
boards"  were  to  convey  the  others,  and  it  was  to  be  a  gala  occasion. 
Antelope,  coyote,  or  jack-rabbit, — any  four-footed  game  the  prairie 
afforded  was  to  be  "  coursed"  in  due  state  and  ceremony ;  the  ladies 
"  in  at  the  death"  were  to  be  crowned  and  subsequently  presented  with 
trophies  of  the  chase  more  sightly  than  the  mask  or  brush  au  naturel. 
The  affair  had  been  gayly  talked  over  that  very  evening  of  the  colonel's 
dinner,  but  the  events  of  the  previous  day  and  the  perplexities  of  the 
one  just  closing  had  completely  driven  it  all  out  of  his  head. 

And  yet  he  was  engaged  to  ride  with  Mrs.  Belknap, — the  Amazon 
of  Fort  Rossiter !  and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  Ned  Perry  would 
have  been  glad  of  an  excuse  to  get  aM'ay  from  a  gallop  with  an  accom- 
plished equestrienne. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  you  had  forgotten  it  ?"  asked  Parke,  in 
amaze. 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  801 

"  Don't  blow  on  me,  there's  a  good  fellow ;  but,  after  all  my 
'  breaks'  of  yesterday, — getting  an  absent  from  drill  and  into  a  row  at 
the  ranch, — I  declare  it  had  slipped  my  memory.  No,  you  go,  Parke : 
I  don't  deserve  to  be  let  oif  anything,  after  yesterday.  You've  been 
sticking  to  duty  like  a  brick  ever  since  you  joined,  and  Stryker  ought 
to  give  you  the  preference." 

"  But  you're  engaged  to  ride  with  Mrs.  Belknap,"  said  Parke. 

"  Who  told  you  so  ?" 

"  I  heard  her  say  so.  Dana  asked  if  he  might  have  the  pleasure, 
just  a  while  ago,  and  she  smilingly  replied  that  it  would  have  been  de- 
lightful, but  that  you  had  asked  her  four  days  ago,  when  it  was  first 
planned." 

"  So  I  had ;  but  I've  been  getting  into  scrapes  ever  since,  and  I 
oughtn't  to  go.  By  Jove !  I'll  write  her  a  note  now  and  say  I  can't 
get  off.  It's  true  enough.  I  wouldn't  let  such  a  fellow  go  if  I  com- 
manded the  troop.     I'd  make  him  stay  in  and  attend  roll-call  a  week." 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Belknap  expects  you,"  said  Parke,  dubiously.  "  Not 
but  what  Dana  would  be  glad  to  take  your  place.  Belknap  can't  go  : 
he's  too  bulky  to  ride,  and  she'd  leave  him  miles  astern  first  run  we 
had,  sure." 

Suddenly  Perry  bethought  him  of  the  note,  and  made  a  dive  into 
the  sittins-room,  towel  in  hand  and  shirt-sleevas  rolled  to  the  elbows. 
It  read, — 

"MoN  Ami, — 

"  You  go  to  the  Spragues'  to  dine  this  evening,  and  there  will  be 
cards,  and  you  will  not  be  able  to  get  away  until  very  late.  Will  you 
not  come  in  a  little  while  before  parade, — without  fail?  There  is 
something  I  greatly  want  to  see  you  about. 

"  Sincerely, 

"  F.  E.  B. 
"  Come  early  as  possible  after  stables." 

"  Thunder  and  turf !"  exclaimed  Perry ;  "  and  there  goes  first  call 
now !  Here,  Parke,  you're  dressed ;  run  over  and  tell  Mrs.  Belknap 
I  just  this  instant  read  her  note  and  I  can't  come  :  I'll  get  a  late  as  it  is." 

"How  can  I,  man?"  shouted  Parke,  as  he  fled.  "I've  got  to  get 
into  war-paint  too. — Lucky  thing  for  me,"  he  added,  in  lower  tone. 
"  I  don't  want  to  be  the  one  to  tell  the  prettiest  woman  at  Eossiter 
that  her  note  that  she  sent  here  at  noon  wasn't  opened  until  first  call 
for  parade." 

Perry's  dressing  was  completed  at  racing  speed,  but  even  then  he 
was  buckling  his  sabre-belt  as  the  assembly  sounded,  and  he  had  to  go 
straight  across  to  where  his  troop  was  forming, — a  glittering  rank  of 
yellow  plumes, — and  so  could  only  give  a  hurried  sidelong  glance 
towards  Belknap's  quarters.  There  was  her  bonnie  ladyship  pacing 
up  and  down  the  veranda  ;  and  he  knew  well  he  would  have  to  account 
for  his  sins.  All  through  parade  his  thoughts  were  divided  between 
the  fair  face  he  had  seen  at  Dunraven  the  night  before  and  the  dark 
one  with  the  long,  curving  lashes  sweeping  those  soft,  peachy  cheeks 


802  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

and  half  veiling  those  wonderful,  liquid,  speaking,  side-glancing  eyes. 
He  saw  Mrs.  Belknap  stroll  forth  a  moment  as  though  to  join  the 
group  of  ladies  on  the  walk,  then  return  to  her  slow,  graceful,  languid 
promenade  up  and  down  her  piazza.  He  knew  that  he  must  hasten 
to  her  the  instant  the  rank  of  officers  dispersed  and  make  his  peace  if 
possible,  but  as  they  marched  to  the  front  and  saluted  the  commanding 
officer  he  signalled  that  he  had  something  to  say  to  them  all,  and, 
moving  away  to  the  edge  of  the  parade-ground,  so  that  the  troops 
might  not  be  detained  on  the  line,  he  gathered  his  officers  about  him, 
a  silent  group  under  the  little  shade-trees  that  bounded  the  road-way, 
and  took  a  letter  from  the  breast  of  his  uniform  coat. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  he,  "this  will  be  of  importance  to  some  of  you, 
and  of  interest  to  all.  It  explains  something  none  of  us  understood, 
and  contains  matter  that  I  deem  it  best  you  all  should  hear.  It  is  a 
letter  from  the  manager  of  Dunraven  Ranch. — Mr.  Adjutant,  you 
read  it." 

And,  clearing  his  throat,  Mr.  Farnham  began : 

"Dunraven  Ranch, 
"  Friday. 
"  Colonel  Brainaed,  — th  Cavalry,  Fort  Rossiter : 

"  Dear  Sir, — Mr.  Maitland  is  confined  to  his  bed,  and  too  ill  to 
personally  reply  to  your  letter  of  this  morning,  which  was  duly  received 
at  the  hands  of  your  adjutant.  He  directs  me  to  write  as  follows  :  that, 
while  he  regrets  the  boisterous  conduct  of  some  of  his  employees  last 
evening  and  their  assault  on  Mr.  Perry,  he  considers  that  in  view  of 
the  results — a  broken  head  on  the  part  of  one  of  our  people  and  no 
apparent  damage  to  Mr.  Perry — the  matter  should  not  be  pressed.  As 
to  the  other  assault  alluded  to,  he  has  no  knowledge  of  it  whatever, 
and  can  find  no  man  who  has. 

"  The  distinct  understanding  between  Mr.  Maitland  and  the  former 
commanding  officer  at  Fort  Rossiter  was  that  none  of  the  garrison 
should  ever  pass  within  our  lines ;  and  we  agreed  on  the  other  hand 
that  none  of  our  people  should  ever  trespass  on  the  reservation.  Mr. 
Maitland  holds  that  it  was  the  duty  of  Colonel  Brainard's  predecessor 
to  acquaint  him  with  the  terms  of  this  agreement,  and  the  residents  at 
Dunraven  had  no  means  of  knowing  that  the  invaders  of  last  evening 
were  not  the  very  men  whom  the  proper  authorities  had  pledged  them- 
selves to  restrain  from  such  aggression. 

"  Mr.  Maitland  begs  that  Colonel  Brainard  will  in  future  ratify  and 
conform  with  the  agreement  formally  entered  into  by  his  predecessor. 

"  Respectfully, 

"  P.  EwEN,  Manager." 

There  was  a  moment  of  puzzled  silence.  The  colonel  looked  quiz- 
zically around  upon  the  circle  of  bronzed  and  soldierly  faces  under  the 
black  helmets.  Captain  Stryker's  lips  were  twitching  with  amusement 
behind  their  black  fringe  of  beard.  No  one  spoke  at  first ;  but  pres- 
ently a  deep-voiced  troop-commander  gave  vent  to  his  emotions  : 

"  What  a  bombastic  old  crank  !     Who  is  he  ?" 


DUN  RAVEN  RANCH.  803 

"  An  Englishman, — the  owner  of  the  biggest  ranch  in  this  part  of 
Texas,"  answered  the  colonel.  "  Captain  Belknap,  Captain  Lawrence, 
have  you  any  knowledge  of  the  agreement  of  which  he  speaks  ?" 

"  Nothing  beyond  the  vague  talk  we  heard.  Dr.  Quin  would  be 
more  apt  to  know  what  Colonel  Stratton  agreed  to  than  we  would," 
answered  Belknap. 

"  I  will  ask  the  doctor  this  evening.  Meantime,  knowing  no  reason 
why  such  a  policy  of  non-intercourse  should  be  observ^ed,  I  shall  not 
recognize  it.  What  is  more,  while  you  will  caution  your  men  to  respect 
Dunraven  bounds  as  they  would  other  private  property,  let  them  show 
no  hostility  to  the  ranch- people  who  may  have  occasion  to  visit  us.  The 
man  who  brought  this  note  tells  me  he  was  threatened  and  abused  by 
some  cavalrymen  near  the  stables.  Mr.  Maitland  professes  to  have  no 
knowledge  of  another  assault;  but  we  have  evidence  that  Sergeant 
Gwynne  was  beaten  by  three  fellows  on  the  Dunraven  grounds  yester- 
day. That  matter  is  yet  to  be  settled.  Now  one  thing  more :  troop 
and  company  commanders  will  closely  watch  their  men  the  next  few 
nights, — keep  a  sharp  lookout  on  the  quarters  until  midnight,  to  see 
that  no  men  slip  away ;  after  midnight  the  guard  must  attend  to  it. 
There  is  an  element  in  the  ranks  that  would  be  only  too  glad  to  go 
down  to  Dunraven  some  night  and  have  satisfaction  on  their  own  ac- 
count for  yesterday's  affairs.  This  must  not  be  permitted.  See  to  it, 
gentlemen.  That  is  all  for  the  present. — Mr.  Perry,  will  you  come 
with  me  a  moment  ?" 

Perry  went.  Mrs.  Belknap  saw  him  go,  and  believed  herself 
slighted. 

X. 

The  hounds  were  out,  and  all  Fort  Rossiter  "  society"  was  with 
them.  The  day  was  faultless, — neither  too  warm  nor  too  cloudy ;  a 
brisk  westerly  breeze  sent  the  cloud-shadows  sailing  steadily  across  the 
broad  prairie  sea  and  keeping  the  veils  and  skirts  of  the  Amazons  of 
the  party  a-flutter.  Three  there  were  of  these,  the  rest  of  the  sister- 
hood preferring  to  follow  the  hunt  by  buggy  or  buck-board,  though 
frankly  expressing  their  envy  of  the  fortunate  riders.  Mounted  on 
her  own  spirited  little  bay,  admirably  fitted  as  to  habit,  and  sitting 
squarely  and  well,  Mrs.  Belknap  would  have  been  the  centre  of  obser- 
vation of  all  the  cavalry  officers  even  had  she  not  been,  as  she  incdn- 
testably  was,  the  beauty  of  the  garrison.  The  colonel  had  offered  Mrs. 
Lawrence  one  of  his  own  horses,  and  therefore  was  accorded  the  right 
of  being  her  escort.  Mrs.  Sprague  was  similarly  indebted  for  her 
"  mount"  to  Captain  Stryker ;  and  a  very  bright  and  beaming  little 
body  she  was  as  she  rode  over  the  springy  turf  at  the  side  of  the  dark- 
haired  troop-leader.  She  dearly  loved  fresh  air,  sunshine,  space,  health- 
ful exercise  of  every  kind,  was  the  champion  at  tennis  and  an  indomi- 
table walker,  but  a  ride  was  something  better  than  all,  and  of  course 
the  rarest  pleasure.  The  wife  of  a  faithful  and  honest  old  subaltern 
who  had  reaped  his  four  "  fogies"  for  twenty  years'  service  and  was 
still  looking  forward  to  his  captaincy,  her  opportunities  for  riding  had 
been  limited  to  those  occasions  when  some  thoughtful  cavalryman  would 


304  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

seud  his  horse  around  with  his  compliments  and  an  invitation  to  take 
a  canter.  The  Eleventh  were  very  busy  during  their  stay  at  Rossiter, 
or  very  chary  of  their  horseflesh.  They  never  rode,  said  the  infantry 
people,  in  speaking  of  them  to  their  successors,  while  the  — th  were 
not  only  themselves  in  saddle  hours  each  day,  but  they  were  constantly 
sending  horses  to  the  ladies ;  and — wonder  of  wonders ! — all  the  in- 
fantry officers  were  invited  to  join  in  the  hunt,  and  such  as  could  go 
were  provided  with  excellent  mounts.  And  so  it  happened  that  a  large 
and  merry  party  had  taken  the  field  :  the  colonel  with  a  dozen  of  his 
oflBcers, — cavalry  and  infantry, — the  ladies,  the  sergeant  in  charge  of 
the  hounds,  with  his  two  or  three  assistants,  and  the  brace  of  orderlies, 
made  a  "  field"  that  covered  a  goodly  front  as  in  dispersed  order,  chat- 
ting and  laughing,  they  swept  out  eastward  from  the  post,  following  in 
the  wake  of  the  master  of  the  hounds  and  his  long,  lithe,  fleet-limbed 
coursers  themselves.  Beautiful  creatures  were  these  hounds  of  the 
— th, — many  of  them  black  as  jet,  others  a  slaty  blue,  others  a 
quakerish  drab,  but  all  with  huge  rounded  chests,  powerful  shoulders 
and  haunches,  and  wonderful  limbs  for  speed.  There  were  nearly  two 
dozen  of  them,  springily  trotting  along  behind  their  huntsman,  with 
lolling  tongues  and  drooping  head  and  tail.  Yet  eyes  and  ears  were 
eager  and  alert,  watching,  waiting  for  the  signal  from  anywhere  along 
the  extended  front  that  should  start  them  in  a  race  that  would  leave  the 
very  gale  behind.  They  are  the  coursers,  the  runners,  the  aristocrats 
of  the  chase,  disdainful  of  the  work  being  done  by  their  humbler 
kindred, — the  canine  skirmishers  who  are  bounding,  bustling,  scurry- 
ing, sniffing,  scampering  everywhere  over  the  prairie  to  their  front, — 
yet  keenly  observant  of  the  results.  All  manner  of  dog — even  volun- 
teer whelp  from  the  Cheyenne  camp — is  to  be  seen  along  that  outer 
line, — spaniels,  a  lordly  Newfoundland,  all  varieties  of  terrier  and 
"curs  of  low  degree,"  all,  even  an  occasional  bird-dog,  scouting  the 
prairie  in  desperate  eagerness  to  snap  and  seize  a  rabbit  or  throttle  a 
coyote,  for  down  in  their  jealous  hearts  they  well  know  that,  once 
started,  the  quarry  leaps  for  the  far  horizon,  vanishes  from  their  view 
like  the  "  Spiit-the-Wind"  of  tradition,  and  leaves  them,  despite  heroic 
eifort,  far,  far  behind,  while  the  lithe-limbed  greyhounds  and  the  racers 
of  the  garrison  horses  alone  can  keep  in  sight  of  the  chase. 

"  Hard  lines  on  Perry,  isn't  it  ?"  said  Mr.  Graham,  as  he  trotted  up 
beside  Mrs.  Belknap  and  took  his  place  for  the  moment  with  her  bevy 
of  cavaliers.     "  First  time  he  ever  missed  a  hunt,  I  reckon." 

"  He  needn't  have  missed  this  one,"  said  Parke.  "  It  was  my  week, 
and  I  told  him  to  go ;  and  Captain  Stryker  said  so,  too ;  but " 

Here  Mr.  Parke  broke  off  suddenly  and  looked  in  mild  wonder- 
ment in  Dana's  face,  for  that  young  gentleman  had  managed,  unseen  by 
Mrs.  Belknap,  to  swing  free  his  right  foot  and  give  the  speaker's  left  a 
vehement  kick.     Too  late,  however.     Mrs.  Belknap  had  heard  it. 

"  Are  you  cavalrymen  all  so  little  to  be  trusted  ?"  she  asked,  with 
a  brilliant  smile  upon  her  flushing  face.  Exercise  and  excitement  had 
lent  unusual  sparkle  to  her  eyes  and  color  to  her  cheeks — "  she  is  posi- 
tively beautiful  to-day,"  as  Mrs.  Lawrence  confessed  to  the  colonel  at 
the  moment. 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  805 

"  I  had  a  note  from  Mr.  Perry  this  morning  saying  he  was  griev- 
ously disappointed,  but  that  some  troop-duty  had  been  assigned  to  him 
which  could  not  be  transferred  and  he  must  stay  and  finish  it." 

"  "What  he  said  is  true,  Mrs.  Belknap,"  promptly  asseverated  Mr. 
Dana.  "  The  papers  have  all  to  be  in  readiness  for  muster  on  Monday, 
and  the  saddle-kits  put  in  shape  for  inspection." 

"  Only  in  Captain  Stryker's  troop  ?"  softly  inquired  the  lady,  with 
eyelids  rising  incredulously. 

"  No,  of  course  not.  One  officer  is  back  at  the  post  from  each 
troop.     It  happened  to  fall  on  Perry  in  his." 

"  I  fancy  I  should  prefer  serving  in  some  older  captain's  troop  if  I 
were  Mr.  Perry.  It  seems  that  while  your  other  captains  stay  home 
and  look  after  their  companies.  Captain  Stryker  has  a  subaltern  attend 
to  his  while  he  comes  a-hunting." 

"  On  the  other  hand,  we  fellows  have  a  dozen  things  to  do  in  our 
troops  that  Captain  Stryker  does  himself  in  his.  It's  as  broad  as  it's 
long,  Mrs.  Belknap,"  said  Dana.  He  did  not  fancy  her  criticising  the 
methods  of  his  cavalry  associates,  and  was  possibly  a  little  piqued  at 
the  decided  annoyance  she  showed  at  Perry's  failure  to  attend.  Mean- 
time, Stryker,  all  unconscious  of  lier  censure,  was  chatting  laughingly 
with  Mrs.  Sprague  and  exchanging  shots  with  the  colonel  and  Mrs. 
Lawrence.  The  four  were  getting  on  admirably  together,  and  seemed 
too  much  absorbed  in  their  own  fun  to  note  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Belknap 
and  her  knot  of  four  or  five  satellites  had  been  gradually  edging  away 
towards  the  right,  and  that  the  rest  of  the  hunt  was  becoming  widely 
scattered. 

"  It  is  time  we  stirred  up  a  jack-rabbit  at  least,"  said  the  colonel. 
"  Suppose  we  veer  over  towards  the  northeast  a  little.  Whatever  we 
do,  we  want  no  chase  down  there  towards  Dunraven :  those  wire  fences 
would  spoil  it  all." 

"  I  wonder  if  those  people  never  hunt  ?"  said  Mr.  Farnham,  who 
had  joined  the  quartette :  he  always  kept  close  to  his  colonel,  as  be- 
fitted an  aspirant  for  the  adjutancy.  "  Englishmen  are  generally  game 
for  all  manner  of  sport." 

"  I  can  see  horsemen  out  there  on  the  prairie  to  the  east  of  the 
ranch,"  said  Stryker,  whose  eyes  were  keen,  "and  I  could  have  sworn 
a  moment  ago  that  I  saw  a  horsewoman." 

"  Nonsense,  Captain  Stryker  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Lawrence,  yet  with 
quick  glance  at  Mrs.  Sprague.  "  What  could  you  have  taken  for  a 
'  lady  on  a  horseback'?  Do  you  suppose  there  could  be  ladies  at  Dun- 
raven  and  we  not  know  it  ?" 

"  Hardly  possible,"  answered  the  captain ;  "  and  therefore  I  doubted 
the  evidence  of  my  senses.  Yet  something  very  like  a  lady  followed 
by  a  groom  rode  down  the  slope  into  the  valley  about  ten  minutes  ago. 
She  is  out  of  sight  in  the  timber  now.  If  Perry  were  only  with  us 
I'd  send  him  off  there  to  see." 

"  Yes,  we  miss  Perry  on  our  hunts,"  said  the  colonel  to  his  lady 
friends.  "  He  is  one  of  our  best  riders  and  most  enthusiastic  sports- 
men.    He  wiU  be  out,  will  he  not,  Stryker?" 

"  Yes,  sir.     There  is  really  no  necessity  for  his  staying  in,  and  I  so 


806  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

told  him ;  but  he  felt  that  he  ought  to,  at  least  until  certain  work  was 
finished.  Then  he  said  he  could  ride  eastward  and  join  us.  Hurrah  ! 
there  they  go !" 

Far  out  to  the  front,  straight  to  the  east,  "  a  gray  streak  with  a 
white  tip  to  it"  went  shooting  into  space  as  though  launched  from  some 
invisible  bow  drawn  by  giant  power.     A  big  jack-rabbit,  all  legs  and 
ears,  had  listened  quivering  and  trembling  to  the  sounds  of  the  ap- 
proaching hunt,  until  an  enterprising  terrier,  foremost  skirmisher  of 
the  line,  fairly  tumbled  over  him  as  he  crouched  behind  a  little  bunch 
of  weeds  :  then  with  one  mighty  leap  and  the  accompaniment  of  a  wild 
yelp  from  his  discoverer  he  sprang  forth  into  a  race  for  his  precious 
life.      "  Hoy !    hoy !"    yells   the   sergeant   as   he   sights   the   quarry. 
"  Hurrah  !"  shout  the  nearest  huntsmen,  and,  with  one  simultaneous 
impulse,  skirmishing  curs,  stealthy,  springing  hounds,  eager  steeds,  and 
jubilant  riderg, — men  and  women, — away  goes  the  entire  field  sweep- 
ing in  pursuit.     At  first  all  is  one  mad  rush  until  it  is  certain  that  the 
rabbit  is  a  veteran  who  understands  well  the  maxim  that  "  a  stern-chase 
is  a  long  chase"  all  the  world  over.     Let  him  keep  it  well  in  mind,  fix 
his  eyes  on  that  one  distant,  shadowy  butte  on  the  eastern  horizon,  and 
bear  away  for  that,  straight  as  the  flight  of  laden  honey-bee,  and  his 
chance  for  life  is  fair  :  he  has  fifty  yards  the  start  of  the  nearest  hound. 
Let  him  swerve  or  hesitate,  and,  like  the  original  of  the  famous  com- 
parison, he  is  lost.     The  prairie  is  level  as  a  floor,  the  turf  firm  and 
springy :  not  a  prairie-dog  has  mined  the  sod  or  digged  a  pit  for  the 
unwary.      "  Magnificent  ground  ! — couldn't  have  better  !"   shouts  the 
colonel  to  Mrs.  Lawrence,  who  is  somewhat  nervously  tugging  at  her 
reins  and  leaning  back  in  the  saddle.     "  Let  him  go.     There  isn't  a 
possibility  of  a  stumble.    Look  at  Mrs.  Belknap  !"  he  adds.    He  would 
not  do  so  ordinarily,  but  he  and  his  fair  partner  are  being  left  hopelessly 
behind  in  the  race,  and,  though  his  big  charger  rarely  lands  him  among 
the  foremost  and  the  colonel  does  not  attempt  to  vie  with  the  light 
riders  among  the  youngsters,  he  cannot  bear  "  dragging."     Mrs.  Law- 
rence gives  one  glance  in  the  indicated  direction,  sees  Mrs.  Belknap 
skimming  like  a  bird  across  the  grassy  level,  riding  from  the  right 
front  diagonally  towards  the  frantic  chase.     Gentle  as  she  is  and  un- 
envious  of  her  rival's  superiority  in  some  respects,  she  wonH  be  thought 
a  coward.     The  color  deepens  on  her  cheek,  her  soft  eyes  flash,  she 
bites  her  pretty  red  lips,  and,  to  Lawrence's  amaze,  her  riding-whip 
comes  viciously  down  upon  her  courser's  flank  and  her  little  hands  give 
rein.     Away  she  flies,  out  to  the  front,  leaving  her  lord  and  master  and 
his  friend,  her  escort  the  colonel,  thundering  bulkily  in  her  track,  but 
losing  ground  with  every  stride.     Delighted  to  have  so  light  a  rider, 
the  colonel's  second  horse  makes  play  for  the  very  leadei-s.    Here,  close 
behind  the  master  of  the  hounds,  all  eyes  fixed  on  that  bounding  tuft 
of  gray  and  white  a  few  score  yards  ahead,  bending  over  their  horses' 
necks  and  keeping  just  enough  pressure  on  the  bit  to  prevent  over- 
riding the  huntsman,  ride  Parke  and  Graham,  two  "  light  weights," 
who  have  coursed  many  a  mile  of  prairie.     Just  behind  them,  a  little 
to  their  right,  rides  Mrs.  Belknap,  her  veil  fluttering   straight   out 
behind,  her  glorious  eyes  flashing,  her  dark  skin  flushed  with  triumph 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  807 

and  the  exhilaration  of  the  dashing  pace,  her  little  hands  wound  about 
in  the  reins  she  holds  so  firmly.  Splendidly  she  sits  her  fleet  racer, 
and  Dana  has  to  urge  and  spur  his  clumsier  troop-horse  to  keep  in  close 
attendance.  These  four  are  well  in  advance  of  all  the  others.  Back 
of  them,  gallantly  urging  on  her  sturdy  sorrel,  comes  Mrs.  Sprague, 
with  Stryker  riding  warily  alongside  and  watching  her  "  going"  before 
he  will  satisfy  himself  that  it  is  safe  to  trust  her  to  her  own  guiding. 
Level  as  the  prairie  is  here,  he  knows  that  a  mile  or  so  ahead  there 
are  "  breaks"  leading  down  into  the  valley  of  one  of  the  innumerable 
tributaries  of  the  Washita.  Then  the  story  may  be  different.  He 
looks  up  in  surprise  at  the  thunder  of  hoofs  close  alongside,  and  Mrs. 
Lawrence,  with  excitement  in  her  eyes,  overtakes,  then  passes  them  on 
her  way  to  the  front.  "  See  !"  he  points  to  his  partner, — "  see  that 
dark  shadow  across  the  prairie  out  there.  We  cannot  ride  at  this  pace 
when  we  pass  that  hollow  :  the  breaks  set  in  still  farther."  He  glances 
over  his  shoulder  and  signals  to  the  nearest  officer  to  follow  Mrs. 
Lawrence  and  look  out  for  her,  and  the  gallant  does  his  best,  but  all 
are  at  top  speed ;  the  colonel  and  the  heavy  weights — infantry  and 
cavalry — are  beginning  to  lose  ground,  and  still  that  gray  "  puff-ball" 
far  to  the  front  seems  inch  by  inch  to  be  slipping  away  from  his  pur- 
suers ;  still  the  long,  lean  greyhounds,  looking  almost  flat  against  the 
sward  in  their  wonderful  strides,  speed  on  in  relentless  chase,  eager 
muzzles  outstretched,  eager  eyes  glaring  on  the  bounding  quarry,  gleam- 
ing muscles  working  in  the  sunshine  like  the  steel  rods  of  the  drivers 
of  the  "  lightning  express."  A  dozen  of  them  are  bunched  in  the 
track  of  the  chase ;  others  are  farther  out  to  right  and  left.  Not  an 
inch  do  the  pursuers  seem  to  have  gained :  straight  as  an  arrow  has 
been  the  flight  so  far,  but  now  the  "  breaks"  are  just  ahead,  little  ravines 
cut  in  here  and  there  across  the  level.  Will  he  keep  his  determined 
course,  up  hill  and  down,  straight  away  to  the  east,  or  will  he  lose  heart, 
tack,  veer,  double  and  twist  ?     If  he  swerve  he  is  a  lost  rabbit ! 

Far  to  the  rear,  yelping,  panting,  distracted  by  this  time,  the  terriers 
and  mongrels,  the  original  leaders,  have  fallen.  The  field,  too,  is  strung 
out  nearly  a  mile  deep  at  the  end  of  the  first  six  minutes'  run,  for  some 
of  the  laggards  have  given  up  and  are  disposed  to  wait  for  the  coming 
of  the  buggies  and  buck-boards.  Here  at  the  front  all  is  tense  excite- 
ment. All  eyes  are  on  the  rabbit,  for  now  or  never  will  the  crisis  come. 
The  horses  are  breathing  heavily,  but  with  no  thought  of  slackening 
speed.  "  Watch  him  now  as  he  sights  that  arroyo .'"  shouts  Graham 
to  Parke,  for  far  out  to  the  right  front  a  ravine  bursts  off  to  the  south- 
east, and  one  of  its  shallow  contributors  stretches  obliquely  across  the 
rabbit's  frenzied  vision.  "  Veer  that  way ;  he'll  take  it,  sure  !"  shouts 
the  huntsman ;  and,  sure  enough,  no  sooner  does  he  reach  it  than  the 
gray  victim  darts  down  the  winding  shelter,  as  though  hopeful  that  his 
sudden  twist  would  throw  his  pursuers  off  the  sight ;  scent  the  grey- 
hound has  none.  The  move  is  disastrous ;  "  Hi !"  shout  the  leading 
riders,  waving  the  pursuit  to  the  right  front,  and,  obedient  to  signal, 
the  foremost  hounds  sweep  in  long  curve  into  the  coulee,  striking  it 
many  a  yard  farther  down  than  where  the  harried  chase  first  dived  into 
its  treacherous  shadows.     And  now  those  hounds  who  were  out  on  the 


308  DUN  RAVEN  RANCH. 

right  flank  are  up  in  line  with  the  very  leaders,  and  bounding  along  the 
level  at  the  side  of  the  ravine,  yet  keeping  wary  eye  upon  the  chase. 
So,  too,  the  horsemen.  Making  a  deep  curve  in  the  ravine  five  hun- 
dred yards  ahead,  and  confident  that  Bunny  will  blindly  rush  along  his 
winding  track,  they  strike  out  across  the  prairie,  gaining  twenty  horse- 
lengths  by  the  move ;  and  now,  with  two  or  three  of  the  oldest  hounds, 
Parke,  Dana,  and  Mrs.  Belknap  are  darting  on  abreast  of  the  chase. 
''  Keep  out  there  to  the  left,  some  of  you  !"  shouts  Dana.  "  He'll  spring 
up  the  other  side  quick  as  he  sees  us.  Drive  him  back."  And,  obedient 
to  the  signal  of  his  waving  hand,  two  of  the  leading  troopers  breast 
the  slopes  to  the  east,  calling  half  a  dozen  hounds  with  them.  Darting 
around  a  bend.  Bunny's  agonized  eyes  catch  sight  of  the  hounds  and 
horses  on  the  right  bank,  and  like  a  flash  he  whirls,  scampers  up  the 
opposite  slope,  and  shoots  out  on  the  prairie  again  just  in  time  to  meet 
the  hounds  and  troopers  who  have  anticipated  the  move.  Now  he  is 
wild  and  demoralized.  Once  more  he  dives  into  the  ravine  and  sends 
the  dust  flying  into  the  very  faces  of  his  pursuers,  for  now  the  leading 
hounds  are  so  close  that  the  foremost  jaws  are  snapping  the  air  at  his 
every  bound.  A  quick  turn  to  the  right  and  up  the  slope  throws  these 
leaders  far — too  far — beyond ;  they  sweep  around  in  long  curve ;  but, 
though  he  has  thrown  them  off,  the  hunted,  senseless,  helpless  wretch 
has  forgotten  the  trailers  to  the  rear ;  they  spring  across  the  angle  he 
has  made,  and  are  close  as  the  original  pursuers,  and  much  the  fresher. 
Wildly,  madly  now  he  twists  and  turns,  first  up  one  bank,  then  the 
other.  Far  to  the  rear  the  coming  riders  see  the  signs  of  his  breaking 
down,  mark  the  scurrying  to  and  fro  of  horse  and  hound.  "  Come 
on  1"  they  shout.  "  He's  gone  now,  and  we  can  be  in  at  the  death  !" 
Mrs.  Lawrence  on  one  side  of  the  ravine  is  as  far  to  the  front  as  Mrs. 
Belknap  on  the  other.  One  of  them  must  lose  the  brush :  he  cannot 
die  on  both  sides  at  once.  The  dark  beauty  has  had  more  than  one 
rasping  disappointment  in  the  last  two  days :  it  would  be  intolerable 
now  that,  after  all,  Mrs.  Lawrence,  and  not  she,  should  prove  the 
victor.  Bunny  makes  one  frantic  rush  up  the  slope  to  the  right,  and, 
with  half  a  dozen  hounds  at  his  very  heels,  spins  in  front  of  her  eyes, 
catches  sight  of  two  fresh  antagonists  confronting  him,  whirls  suddenly 
about  to  the  right,  and  almost  dives  under  her  horse's  heaving  barrel  as 
he  once  more  plunges  into  the  ravine,  down  the  rugged  slope,  up  the 
gentle  ascent  to  the  other  side.  There  half  a  dozen  long,  lean  muzzles 
gleam  close  behind  him ;  he  falters,  wavers ;  a  sharp  nose  is  thrust 
underneath  him  as  he  runs,  a  quick  toss  sends  him  kicking,  struggling 
into  air,  and  in  another  instant,  with  piteous  but  ineffectual  squeak  and 
pleading,  he  is  the  centre  of  a  tumbling,  snapping,  fang-gnashing 
group  of  hounds,  and  his  little  life  is  torn  out  almost  before  Graham 
can  leap  from  his  saddle,  beat  them  back  with  the  visor  of  his  cap,  then, 
seizing  the  still  quivering  body  by  the  legs  that  would  have  saved  could 
that  empty  head  only  have  directed,  holds  poor  Bunny  aloft  in  front  of 
Mrs.  Lawrence's  snorting  steed  and  proclaims  her  "  Queen  of  the  Chase." 
And  this,  too,  has  Mrs.  Belknap  to  see  and  strive  to  smile ;  while 
down  in  her  heart  she  knows  that  it  could  not  so  have  happened  had 
Perry  come. 


DUN  RAVEN  RANCH.  809 


XI. 


Riding  eastward  just  before  noon,  somewhat  comforted  in  conscience 
because  of  his  self-denial  of  the  morning,  Ned  Perry  scanned  the 
distant  prairie  in  search  of  the  hunt.  It  was  nearly  luncheon-time, 
and  he  expected  to  find  the  party  making  its  way  to  the  little  stream 
whither  the  baskets,  boxes,  and  hampers  had  been  despatched  by 
wagon  some  hours  before ;  but  when  he  sighted  the  quartermaster 
driving  homeward  in  his  buggy  he  learned  from  that  bulky  veteran 
that  rabbit  after  rabbit  had  been  run,  and  that  the  whole  party  had 
finally  decided  to  give  dogs  and  horses  a  cool  drink  down  in  the  Monee 
valley  before  starting  northward  across  the  prairie.  "  They  must  be 
getting  down  into  the  valley  two  or  three  miles  east  of  the  ranch  just 
about  now,  and  will  go  due  north  from  there,  unless  they  stir  up  more 
game  along  the  Monee.  If  I  were  you,"  said  the  quartermaster,  "  I'd 
ride  over  to  the  lunch -stand.  You  won't  get  there  much  before  the 
crowd." 

Perry  thanked  him  for  the  information,  but,  so  far  from  accepting 
his  advice,  the  younger  officer  turned  his  horse's  head  in  the  direction 
of  Dunraven,  and  was  speedily  riding  thither  with  an  alacrity  that  he 
himself  could  hardly  explain. 

In  his  brief  talk  with  the  colonel  after  parade  on  the  previous 
evening  Perry  had  told  him  what  he  could  of  the  characteristics  of 
Messrs.  Maitland  and  Ewen.  The  odd  letter  wliich  had  been  sent  by 
them  had  given  the  commanding  officer  cause  for  much  thought,  and 
he  was  desirous,  evidently,  of  gathering  from  Perry's  observations  as 
complete  an  idea  as  was  possible  of  their  life  and  surroundings.  And 
still  Perry  had  found  it  impossible  to  volunteer  any  description  of 
Miss  Maitland;  he  could  not  bear  to  speak  of  her  until  —  until  he 
knew  more  of  the  doctor's  purpose  in  his  visits  to  the  ranch.  He  had 
been  detained  by  his  commander  just  long  enough  to  make  it  necessary 
for  him  to  go  direct  to  the  Spragues'  without  leaving  his  helmet  and 
sabre  at  home.  They  were  waiting  dinner  for  him  as  it  was,  but  Mrs. 
Belknap  took  no  note  of  that  circumstance :  what  she  saw  was  that  he 
had  avoided  even  passing  within  hail  of  her  piazza  both  before  and 
after  parade. 

Now,  though  conscious  of  no  intention  of  avoidance,  Perry  rode 
forth  to  the  meeting  of  this  day  with  some  little  misgiving.  In  the 
first  place,  he  knew  that  he  must  strive  to  make  his  peace  with  this 
slighted  lady ;  and  yet,  in  view  of  all  he  had  seen  and  heard  in  tlie 
past  forty-eight  hours,  how  utterly  dwarfed  liad  that  affair — his  laugh- 
ing flirtation  with  Mrs.  Belknap — become !  Had  any  one  told  him 
his  attentions  to  her  and  her  marked  preference  for  his  society  were 
matters  that  people  were  beginning  to  talk  of, — some  with  sly  enjoy- 
ment, others  with  genuine  regret, — he  would  have  been  grateful  for 
the  information,  instead  of  resentful,  as,  with  most  men,  would  be  the 
case  ninety-nine  times  out  of  a  hundred.  But  he  knew  nothing  of  this, 
and  had  too  little  experience  to  suspect  the  comments  in  circulation. 
She  was  most  interesting — up  to  the  day  before  yesterday ;  he  loved 
to  ride  or  dance  with  her  )  he  enjoyed  a  chat  with  her  more  than  he 


810  DUN  RAVEN  RANCH. 

could  tell.  A  most  sympathetic  and  attentive  listener  was  Mrs.  Bel- 
knap, and  her  voice  was  low  and  sweet  and  full  of  subtly  caressing  tones. 
She  had  made  him  talk  to  her  by  the  hour  of  his  home,  his  hopes  and 
ambitions,  his  profession  and  his  prospects,  and  had  held  him  in  a 
silken  bondage  that  he  had  no  desire  to  escape. 

And  yet,  as  he  rode  out  on  the  breezy  plain  this  brilliant  day,  he 
found  all  thought  of  her  distasteful,  and  his  eyes,  far  from  searching 
for  the  flutter  of  her  trim  habit  in  the  distant  riding-party,  would  go 
a-roaming  over  the  intervening  shades  and  shallows  down  in  the  Monee 
valley  and  seek  the  bare,  brown  walls  of  Dunraven  far  across  the 
stream.  It  was  odd  indeed  that  he  should  have  sought  this,  the  longest 
way  round,  on  his  ride  in  quest  of  his  companions  from  the  fort' 

Once  again  he  looked  at  the  isolated  clump  of  buildings  from  his 
post  of  observation  on  the  bluff;  once  again  he  saw  across  the  stream 
and  through  the  trees  the  barbed  barrier  that  had  caused  both  him  and 
his  men  such  laceration  of  flesh  and  temper ;  once  again  he  saw  the 
shallow  valley  winding  away  to  the  southeast,  decked  with  its  scrubby 
fringe- work  of  cottonwood  and  willow ;  but  this  time,  three  miles  away 
its  accustomed  solitude  was  broken  by  groups  of  riders  and  darting 
black  specks  of  dogs,  all  moving  northward  once  more  and  already 
breasting  the  slopes.  He  should  have  turned  away  eastward  and 
ridden  across  country  to  join  them,  but  down  here  in  the  valley,  only 
a  short  distance  away,  absorbed  in  watching  the  hunting-party,  sat 
Mr.  Ewen  on  a  pawing  and  excited  bay.  Whatever  coolness  his  rider 
might  feel  at  this  discovery,  it  was  not  shared  by  Nolan :  he  pricked 
up  his  ears  and  hailed  his  fellow-quadruped  with  cordial  and  unaffected 
pleasure,  a  neigh  that  the  English-bred  horse  was  so  utterly  uninsular 
as  to  whirl  about  and  answer  with  corresponding  warmth.  Ewen 
caught  at  his  heavy  Derby  and  jerked  it  off  his  bullet  head  with  an 
air  of  mingled  embarrassment  and  civility,  replacing  it  with  similarly 
spasmodic  haste.  Perry  coolly,  but  with  a  certain  easy  grace,  raised  his 
forage-cap  in  response  to  the  salutation,  and  then,  seeing  the  manager 
still  looking  at  him  as  though  he  wanted  to  say  something  and  did  not 
know  how  to  begin,  gave  Nolan  his  head  and  rode  down  to  short  hail- 
ing-distance. 

"We  meet  on  neutral  ground  out  here,  Mr.  Ewen.  I  suppose  your 
exclusive  employer  over  yonder  can  hardly  prohibit  your  answering 
civil  inquiries  after  his  health  ?"  And,  though  he  meant  to  be  distant, 
Perry  found  himself  smiling  at  the  oddity  of  the  situation. 

"  Do  you  know,  I  was  just  thinking  about  you,"  answered  Ewen, 
"and  wondering  whether  you  were  with  that  party  down  yonder? 
The  old  gentleman  is  better,  thanks.  He  had  two  pretty  bad  nights, 
but  is  coming  around  slowly." 

"  And  Miss  Maltland, — how  is  she  ?" 

"  Rather  seedy.  She  has  had  a  good  deal  of  care  and  vexation  of 
late,  I  fancy,  and  this  is  no  place  for  a  young  girl,  anyhow." 

"  Well,  you  have  some  appreciation  of  the  true  character  of  Dun- 
raven  as  a  residence,  after  all !"  answered  Perry.  "  Now,  if  you  can 
give  me  any  good  reason  why  she  should  live  in  this  utterly  out-of-the- 
way  place,  you  will  lift  a  weight  from  my  mind." 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  gH 

"Oh,  they  don't  live  here,  you  know,"  spoke  Ewen,  hurriedly. 
"She  comes  here  only  when  her  father  does.  It  is  her  own  doing. 
She  goes  with  him  everywhere,  and  will  not  leave  him.  She's  all  he 
has,  don't  you  know  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  it.  You  Dunraven  people  seem 
averse  to  any  expression  of  interest  or  courtesy  from  your  fellow-men, 
but  I'm  free  to  say  I  should  like  to  know  what  on  earth  there  is  in 
American  cavalrymen  to  make  them  such  objects  of  aversion  to  your 
master ;  and  I  would  be  glad  to  know  how  it  is  such  a  girl  as  that  is 
dragged  into  such  a  hole  as  yonder." 

Ewen  sat  in  silence  a  moment,  studying  the  young  fellow's  face. 

"  You  deserve  a  better  welcome  there,"  he  presently  answered,  "  and 
I  don't  know  that  I  can  do  better  than  to  tell  you  the  truth, — what  I 
know  of  it.  And  let  me  tell  you  that  if  the  old  man  knew  of  my 
speaking  of  it  to  any  one,  I'd  lose  the  most  lucrative  but  least  attractive 
place  I  ever  had.     Do  you  see  ?" 

"  Then  perhaps  you  had  better  not  tell  me.  I  do  not  care  to  pry 
into  secrets." 

"  Oh,  this  is  no  secret.  It  was  thxd  that  drove  hira  here :  everybody 
knew  it  in  England.  You  were  mighty  shabbily  treated  at  the  ranch, 
and  you  requited  it  by  preventing  what  would  have  been  a  bloody  row 
and  by  lending  us  a  helping  hand.  Even  the  old  man  recognizes  that ; 
and  I  think  he'd  be  glad  to  say  so  to  you,  and  see  you,  if  you  were  not 
just  what  you  are, — a  cavalry  officer." 

"  Why,  what  on  earth  can  we  have  done  ?  If  any  of  our  cloth  have 
wronged  Mr.  Maitland  in  any  way,  it  is  our  right  to  know  it  and  take 
it  up." 

"It  wasn't  your  cloth,  old  fellow,"  said  Ewen,  thawing  visibly, 
"  but  it  was  the  cavalry  all  the  same  that  broke  his  heart  and  his  pride, 
and  made  his  life  the  wreck  it  is,  and  drove  him  from  his  home,  shun- 
ning the  sight  of  his  fellow-men,  all  these  years, — exiling  her,  too,  in 
the  prime  of  her  young  life.  Mr.  Perry,  there  are  only  three  or  four 
of  us  at  Dunraven  who  know  the  story,  but  we  have  only  sympathy 
and  pity — no  blame — for  him,  though  he  is  the  harshest  master  I  ever 
served." 

"  How  did  it  happen  ?"  asked  Perry. 

"  All  through  his  son.  There  had  been  more  of  them,  but  there 
was  only  the  one — Archie — when  the  Lancers  were  ordered  to  South 
Africa.  He  was  a  youngster,  only  seventeen,  they  tell  me,  and  he  had 
just  been  gazetted  to  his  cornetcy.  The  old  man  was  all  wrapped  up 
in  him,  for  of  the  three  boys  the  eldest  had  died  only  the  month  before 
the  regiment  was  ordered  on  foreign  service  and  the  second  had  been 
killed  in  India.  Both  these  two  who  were  gone  had  made  themselves 
famous  among  their  comrades  by  their  fearlessness  and  high  character, 
and  the  old  man,  of  course,  could  not  ask  Archie  to  quit  the  service 
just  when  orders  for  dangerous  duty  came.  The  boy  went  to  the  Cape 
with  his  corps,  and  got  into  the  thick  of  the  Zulu  war  just  at  the  time 
of  the  massacre  of  the  24th  at  Isandlwhana  and  the  fight  at  Rorke's 
Drift.  I  was  at  home  then,  and  all  England  was  quivering  with  grief 
over  such  needless  sacrifice  as  was  made  of  that  regiment,  and  all  ready 


812  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

to  fall  down  and  worship  such  fellows  as  Chard  and  Bromhead,  who 
made  the  superb  fight  almost  at  the  same  time.  They  say  old  Maitland 
wanted  to  go  himself,  as  volunteer  or  something,  with  Lord  Chelms- 
ford, but  it  couldn't  be  done.  His  father  had  fought  at  Alma  and 
Inkerman,  and  his  grandfather  had  led  the  Guards  at  Waterloo.  The 
whole  tribe  were  soldiers,  you  know ;  and  now  Archie  was  with  the 
Lancers  in  Zululand,  and  the  Lancers  were  going  to  wipe  out  the  dis- 
asters of  the  first  fights  of  the  campaign,  and  Archie  was  to  uphold 
the  grand  old  fighting  name  and  come  home  covered  with  glory.  He 
was  the  heir  now,  and  Miss  Gladys  was  but  a  little  girl.  I  have  heard 
it  all  from  Mrs.  Cowan  :  she  was  their  housekeeper  in  those  days,  and 
a  sort  of  companion,  too,  to  Mrs.  Maitland,  who  was  very  delicate. 
The  old  man  was  very  fiery  and  proud,  and  full  of  fierce  denunciation 
of  everything  that  had  gone  wrong  in  the  campaign ;  and  he  offended 
some  people  by  the  way  he  condemned  some  officer  who  was  a  friend 
of  theirs,  and  there  were  others  who  thought  he  talked  too  much ;  but 
he  fairly  boiled  over  when  the  news  came  of  how  the  Prince  Imperial 
had  been  abandoned  by  his  escort,  and  that  a  British  officer  and  a  dozen 
men  had  run  two  miles  at  top  speed  from  a  beggarly  little  squad  of 
niggers  before  they  dared  look  round  to  see  what  had  become  of  their 
prince,  whom  they  had  left  to  fight  the  gang  alone.  That  was  old 
Maitland's  text  for  a  month.  If  any  sou  of  his  had  ever  been  of  that 
party  he  would  disown,  disgrace,  deny  him,  forbid  him  his  sight,  cut 
him  off  forever.  And  right  in  the  midst  of  it  all — a  judgment,  some 
people  said — there  came  the  awful  news  that  Cornet  Maitland  of  the 
Lancers  was  to  be  court-martialled  for  misbehavior  in  face  of  the 
enemy.  Of  course  the  old  man  only  raged  at  first, — said  it  couldn't 
be  true, — 'twas  all  some  foul  invention  or  ridiculous  blunder ;  but  he 
ran  up  to  London  and  saw  somebody  at  the  Horse-Guards, — that's  our 
War  Office,  you  know, — and  came  back  looking  a  century  older  and 
simply  crushed  to  earth.  Mrs.  Cowau  says  they  showed  him  the  offi- 
cial report  of  a  general  officer  who  was  called  upon  to  explain  why  he 
had  not  sent  certain  troops  to  the  relief  of  an  advanced  and  threatened 
post,  and  he  replied  that  he  had  sent  the  order  by  Cornet  Maitland  of 
the  Lancers,  had  given  him  an  escort  of  a  dozen  men  and  strict  injunc- 
tions to  push  through  by  night,  at  all  hazards,  though  the  way  was 
beset  with  Zulus,  and  that  he  neither  went  through  nor  returned,  but 
was  found  hiding  at  a  kraal  two  days  after,  only  twenty  miles  away. 
The  escort  returned,  and  after  much  cross-examination  had  told  the 
story,  separately  and  collectively,  that  the  young  officer  had  become 
utterly  unnerved  towards  midnight  by  the  reports  from  scouting-parties 
and  others,  had  declared  to  them  that  it  was  simply  madness  to  attempt 
to  push  through, — they  would  be  massacred  to  a  man, — and,  though 
they  announced  that  they  were  stanch  and  ready,  he  refused,  and 
ordered  them  to  bivouac  where  they  Avere  for  the  night ;  and  in  the 
morning  he  had  disappeared.  They  declared  they  supposed  he  had 
gone  back  to  camp,  and,  after  waiting  a  day,  they  returned,  reporting 
him  lost.  When  found  at  the  kraal  he  was  delirious  with  fever, 
or  pretended  to  be,  said  the  general,  and  he  was  brought  in  under 
arrest,  and  the  trial  was  to  proceed.     I  don't  know  how  it  turned 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  813 

out.  He  was  not  court-martialled,  but  permitted  to  return  to  England. 
It  was  said  he  told  a  very  different  story, — that  he  had  begged  the 
brigade  major  who  detailed  the  escort  to  let  him  have  half  a  dozen  of 
his  own  Lancers  instead  of  the  pack  of  irregulars  they  gave  him ;  he 
did  not  trust  them,  and  feared  they  would  abandon  him  as  they  had  the 
Prince ;  but  the  staff-officer  said  the  order  couldn't  be  changed, — these 
men  knew  the  country,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  you  know ;  and  there 
was  one  fellow  in  the  Lancers  who  stuck  to  it  that  he  believed  Mait- 
land  had  tried  his  best  to  get  through  alone.  But  'twas  all  useless : 
somebody  had  to  be  held  responsible,  and  the  failure  was  all  heaped 
on  him.  Meantime,  there  had  been  fury  at  home ;  old  Maitland  had 
written  casting  him  off,  repudiating, — cursing  him,  for  all  I  know, — 
and  the  next  thing  there  came  a  messenger  from  the  captain  of  his  ship 
at  Southampton.  They  brought  his  watch,  his  ring,  his  sword  and 
portmanteaus,  and  a  letter  which  was  written  on  receipt  of  that  his 
father  sent  him, — a  long  letter,  that  the  old  man  never  read  to  any 
living  soul,  but  broods  over  to  this  day.  The  young  fellow  bade  them 
all  good-by ;  he  would  not  live  to  disgrace  them  further,  if  that  was 
what  was  thought  of  him  at  home,  and  leaped  overboard  from  the 
steamer  the  night  after  she  weighed  anchor, — no  one  aboard  could  tell 
just  when,  but  he  was  writing  in  his  state-room  as  she  cleared  the 
harbor,  and  the  steward  saw  him  undressing  at  nine  o'clock.  In  the 
morning  everything  about  his  belongings  was  found  in  perfect  order, — 
his  letter  to  the  captain  of  the  ship,  the  portmanteaus,  watch,  ring, 
clothing,  etc.,  just  as  he  described  in  that  letter, — and  he  was  no  more 
seen.  It  was  the  conviction  of  all  that  he  must  have  leaped  overboard 
in  the  darkness  when  far  out  at  sea. 

"  Then  Mrs.  Maitland  bowed  her  head  and  never  lifted  it  again. 
Then,  all  alone,  and  fiercely  rejecting  anything  like  sympathy,  old 
Maitland  took  to  travel, — came  here  to  America,  wandered  around  the 
world,  shunning  men  as  he  would  these  prairie- wolves ;  and  when  he 
had  to  go  to  England  he  would  see  no  one  but  the  attorneys  and  solici- 
tors with  whom  he  had  business.  Here  at  Dunraven  he  is  more  content 
than  anywhere,  because  he  is  farther  from  the  world.  Here  Gladys  is 
queen  :  'twas  she  who  named  it,  two  years  ago,  for  her  mother  was  a 
connection  of  the  earl's.  But  Maitland  even  here  hates  to  have  his 
name  mentioned ;  and  that  is  why  I  say  he  refers  all  business  to  me 
and  keeps  himself  out  of  everything.  Do  you  see  what  a  weight  he 
carries  ?" 

Mr.  Ewen  had  grown  red  with  the  intensity  and  rapidity  of  his 
talk.  He  removed  his  hat  and  mopped  his  face  and  brow  with  a  big 
silk  handkerchief,  and  then  glanced  again  at  Perry,  who  had  listened 
with  absorbed  interest  and  who  was  now  silently  thinking  it  over, 
looking  curiously  at  Ewen  the  while. 

"  Have  I  bored  you  half  to  death  ?"  asked  the  Englishman,  some- 
what ruefully.  "  I  never  told  that  story  before,  but  it  has  been  smoul- 
dering for  years." 

"  Bored  ?  No  !  I  never  was  more  interested  in  my  life.  I  was 
thinking  what  a  different  sort  of  fellow  you  were  from  the  man  I  met 
out  yonder  the  other  day.  Did  they  never  do  anything  to  clear  the 
Vol.  XLII.— 53 


814  DVNRAVEN  RANCH. 

matter  up  ?  In  our  country  it  never  would  have  been  allowed  to  rest 
there." 

"  It  was  too  far  gone ;  and  when  the  boy  killed  himself  the  thing 
was  used  by  all  the  government  papers — you'd  call  them  '  administration 
organs' — as  a  confession  of  judgment.  When  the  Lancers  came  home 
there  was  some  talk,  but  it  was  soon  hushed.  Maitland  had  shut  up 
the  old  place  by  that  time  and  gone  no  one  knew  where,  but  I  read  it 
in  one  of  the  London  papers, —  Truth,  I  think, — a  story  that  two  of  the 
irregulars  had  quarrelled  with  their  fellows  and  after  the  war  was  over 
told  a  tale  that  made  a  sensation  in  Cape  Colony.  They  said  that  the 
young  officer  was  a  maligned  man ;  that  up  to  midnight  he  had  pushed 
on,  but  every  scout  and  patrol  they  met  warned  them  that  thousands  of 
Zulus  were  ahead,  and  that  it  was  madness  to  try.  The  men  began 
whispering  among  themselves,  and  begged  the  sergeant  to  attempt  to 
dissuade  the  Lancer  officer ;  and  he  did,  and  they  all  began  to  talk,  but 
he  refused  to  listen.  At  last  they  halted  at  a  little  stream  and  flatly 
refused  to  go  a  step  farther.  He  ordered,  begged,  and  implored.  He 
promised  heavy  reward  to  any  one  of  their  number  who  would  come 
and  show  him  the  way.  Then  they  heard  the  night  cries  or  signals  of 
some  war-parties  across  the  fields,  and  the  sergeant  and  most  of  the  men 
put  spurs  to  their  liorses ;  the  others  followed,  and  they  rode  back  five 
miles  until  they  were  within  our  patrolled  lines ;  then  they  bivouacked, 
supposing  of  course  the  Lancer  had  followed  them.  But  he  hadn't :  he 
never  joined  them  all  next  day,  and  likely  as  not  he  had  done  his  best 
to  get  through  that  strange  country  by  night,  alone,  and  had  tried  to 
carry  his  despatches  to  the  detachment.  They  knew  they  must  tell  a 
straight  story  or  be  severely  punished.  They  were  twelve  against  one 
when  it  came  to  evidence,  as  the  sergeant  pointed  out,  and  so  they 
agreed  on  the  one  that  sent  him  to  Coventry. 

"  Some  of  the  Lancer  officers  got  hold  of  this  and  swore  they  believed 
it  true ;  but  meantime  the  government  had  had  the  devil's  own  time  in 
tiding  his  lordship  the  general  over  the  numerous  blunders  he  had  made 
in  the  campaign,  and  the  Lancers  were  summarily  ordered  off  elsewhere. 
There  was  no  one  left  to  take  up  poor  Archie's  cause  at  home,  and  the 
thing  died  out." 

"  By  the  Lord  Harry,  Mr.  Ewen,  it  wouldn't  die  out  here !  We 
Yankees  would  resurrect  such  a  thing  if  it  were  old  as  a  mummy." 

"  Sometimes  I  think  old  Maitland  would  be  glad  of  the  chance  to 
do  it,  even  broken  as  he  is ;  sometimes,  Mrs.  Cowan  says,  he  walks 
the  floor  all  night  and  holds  Archie's  last  letter  in  his  hands.  She 
thinks  he  charges  himself  with  having  driven  the  boy  to  suicide." 

"  Does  Miss  Maitland  never  revisit  the  old  home  ?"  asked  Perry, 
after  a  moment's  thought. 

"  She  goes  with  her  father — everywhere.  He  is  never  here  more 
than  twice  a  year,  and  seldom  for  more  than  six  weeks  at  a  time. 
Were  it  not  for  her,  though,  he  would  settle  down  here,  I  believe. 
He  went  to  Cape  Colony  and  tried  to  find  the  men  who  gave  out  that 
story,  but  one  of  them  was  dead  and  the  other  had  utterly  disappeared. 
There  were  still  six  survivors  of  that  escort,  the  sergeant  among  them, 
and  he  was  a  man  of  some  position  and  property.     They  stuck  to  the 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  815 

original  story,  and  said  the  two  men  who  started  the  sensation  were 
mere  blackmailing  vagrants.  Maitland  advertised  everywhere  for  the 
missing  man,  but  to  no  purpose.  I  think  he  and  Miss  Gladys  have 
finally  abandoned  all  hope  of  ever  righting  Archie's  name.  She  was 
only  a  child  when  it  all  happened,  but  she  worshipped  him,  and  never 
for  an  instant  has  believed  the  story  of  his  having  funked.  She's  out 
here  riding  somewhere  this  morning,  by  the  way." 

"  Who  !  Miss  Maitland  ?"  exclaimed  Perry,  with  sudden  start,  and 
a  flash  of  eager  light  in  his  blue  eyes. 

Ewen  smiled  quietly  as  he  answered,  "  Yes.  She  needed  exercise, 
and  wanted  to  come  down  to  the  gate  and  meet  Dr.  Quin.  She  went 
on  up  the  valley ;  and  I  wonder  she  is  not  back." 

The  bright  light  faded  quickly  as  it  came ;  the  glad  blue  eyes 
clouded  heavily.  Ewen  looked  at  the  young  soldier,  surprise  in  his 
florid  face, — surprise  that  quickly  deepened  into  concern,  for  Perry 
turned  suddenly  away,  as  though  looking  for  his  comrades  of  the  hunt. 

"  I  think  they're  coming  now,"  said  the  manager,  peering  up  the 
valley  under  the  shading  willows.     "  Yes  !     Won't  you  stop  a  bit?" 

"  Not  now,"  was  the  hurried  reply.  "  Thank  you  for  that  story  : 
it  has  given  me  a  lot  to  think  about.  I'll  see  you  again."  The  last 
words  were  almost  shouted  back ;  for,  urged  by  sudden  dig  of  the  spur, 
Nolan  indignantly  lashed  his  heels,  then  rushed  in  wrathful  gallop 
towards  the  eastern  bluffs.  It  was  no  wilful  pang  his  rider  had  in- 
flicted on  his  pet  and  comrade ;  it  was  only  the  involuntary  transmis- 
sion of  the  shock  to  his  own  young  heart, — a  cruel,  jealous  stab,  tliat 
came  with  those  thoughtless  words,  "  She  wanted  to  come  down  to  the 
gate  and  meet  Dr.  Quin,  and  went  on  up  the  valley."  He  would  not 
even  look  back  and  see  her  riding  by  that  man's  side. 

XII. 

To  use  the  expression  of  Mr.  Dana,  "  Ned  Perry  seemed  off*  his 
feed"  for  a  day  or  two.  The  hunt  had  been  pronounced  a  big  success, 
despite  the  fact  of  Perry's  defection, — he  had  not  even  joined  them  at 
luncheon, — and  it  was  agreed  that  it  should  be  repeated  the  first  bright 
day  after  muster.  That  ceremony  came  off"  on  Monday  with  due  pomp 
and  formality  and  much  rigidity  of  inspection  on  the  part  of  the  post 
commander.  It  was  watched  wdth  interest  by  the  ladies,  and  Mrs.  Bel- 
knap even  proposed  that  w^hen  the  barracks  and  kitchens  were  being 
visited  they  should  go  along.  Dana  had  been  her  devotee  ever  since 
the  day  of  the  hunt,  and  announced  his  willingness  to  carry  her  sug- 
gestion to  the  colonel,  but  Belknap  declined.  She  wanted  a  few 
words  with  Perry,  and  did  not  know  how  to  effect  her  purpose.  When 
he  stopped  and  spoke  to  her  after  parade  on  Saturday  evening  and 
would  have  made  peace,  she  thought  to  complete  her  apparent  conquest 
by  a  show  of  womanly  displeasure  at  his  conduct,  and  an  assurance 
that,  thanks  to  Mr.  Dana,  the  day  had  been  delightful  and  his  failure 
to  accompany  her  had  been  of  no  consequence  at  all.  The  utterly 
unexpected  way  in  which  he  took  it  was  simply  a  "  stunner"  to  the 
little  lady.     So  far  from  being  piqued  and  jealous  and  huffy,  as  she 


816  DVNRAVEN  RANCH. 

expected,  Mr.  Perry  justified  the  oft-expressed  opinion  of  her  sisterhood 
to  the  effect  that  "  men  were  simply  past  all  comprehension"  by  bright- 
ening up  instantly  and  expressing  such  relief  at  her  information  that 
for  a  moment  she  was  too  dazed  to  speak.  By  that  time  he  had  pleas- 
antly said  good-night  and  vanished ;  nor  had  he  been  near  her  since, 
except  to  bow  and  look  pleased  when  she  walked  by  with  Dana.  She 
never  thought  of  him  as  an  actor  before,  but  this,  said  Mrs.  Belknap 
to  herself,  looks  like  consummate  acting.  Had  she  known  of,  or  even 
suspected,  the  existence  of  a  woman  who  had  interposed  and  cast  her 
into  the  shade,  the  explanation  would  have  occurred  to  her  at  once; 
but  that  there  was  a  goddess  in  the  shape  of  Gladys  Maitland  within 
a  day's  ride  of  Rossiter  she  never  dreamed  for  an  instant.  Believing 
that  no  other  woman  could  have  unseated  her,  Mrs.  Belknap  simply 
could  not  account  for  such  utter — such  unutterable — complacency  on 
the  part  of  her  lately  favored  admirer  in  his  virtual  dismissal.  All 
Sunday  and  Monday  she  looked  for  signs  of  sulking  or  surrender,  but 
looked  in  vain.  Perry  seemed  unusually  grave  and  silent,  was  Parke's 
report  of  the  situation ;  but  whatever  comfort  she  might  have  derived 
from  that  knowledge  was  utterly  destroyed  by  the  way  he  brightened 
up  and  looked  pleased  whenever  they  chanced  to  meet.  Monday  even- 
ing he  stopped  to  speak  with  her  on  the  walk,  holding  out  his  hand 
and  fairly  beaming  upon  her :  she  icily  received  these  demonstrations, 
but  failed  to  chill  them  or  him.  Then  she  essayed  to  make  him  suffer 
the  pangs  of  the  jilted  by  clinging  to  Dana's  arm  and  smiling  up  in 
Dana's  face,  and  then  she  suddenly  started :  "  Oh,  Mr.  Dana !  How 
could  I  have  been  so  thoughtless? — and  tliis  is  your  wounded  side  !" 
Dana  protested  that  her  slight  weight  was  soothing  balm,  not  additional 
pain,  and  Perry  promptly  asseverated  that  if  he  were  Dana  he  would 
beg  her  not  to  quit  his  arm,  and  her  eyes  looked  scorn  at  him  as  she 
said,  "  How  can  you  know  anything  about  it,  Mr.  Perry  ?  You've 
never  been  in  action  or  got  a  scratch,  while  Mr.  Dana" — and  now  the 
dark  eyes  spoke  volumes  as  they  looked  up  into  those  of  her  escort — 
"  Mr.  Dana  is  one  of  the  heroes  of  the  fighting  days  of  the  regiment." 
Even  that  failed  to  crush  him  ;  while  it  had  the  effect  of  making  Dana 
feel  mawkish  and  absurd.  Perry  frankly  responded  that  he  only 
wondered  the  women  ever  could  find  time  to  show  any  civility  whatever 
to  fellows  like  him,  when  there  were  so  many  who  "  had  records."  She 
was  completely  at  a  loss  to  fathom  him,  and  when  tattoo  came  on  Monday 
night,  and  they  were  all  discussing  the  project  of  a  run  with  the  hounds 
for  the  coming  morrow, — a  May-day  celebration  on  new  principles, — 
Mrs.  Belknap  resolved  upon  a  change  of  tactics. 

Dana  was  officer  of  the  guard  and  over  at  the  guard-house,  but  nearly 
all  the  other  officers  were  chatting  about  the  veranda  and  the  gate  of 
the  colonel's  quarters.  Thither  had  Captain  Belknap  escorted  his  pretty 
wife,  and  she  was,  as  usual,  the  centre  of  an  interested  group.  Perry 
came  strolling  along  after  reporting  the  result  of  tattoo  roll-call  to  the 
adjutant,  and  Captain  Stryker  called  to  him  and  asked  some  question 
about  the  men  on  stable-guard.  The  orders  of  the  colonel  with  regard 
to  watching  the  movements  of  the  men  after  the  night  roll-call  were 
being  closely  observed,  and  when  the  trumpets  sounded  "  taps,"  a  few 


DUN  RAVEN  RANCH.  817 

moments  later,  several  of  the  troop-coramanders  walked  away  together, 
and  this  left  a  smaller  party.  It  was  just  at  this  juncture  that  Mrs. 
Belknap's  sweet  voice  was  heard  addressing  the  commanding  officer : 

"  Oh,  colonel !  Ever  since  Thursday  I  have  been  telling  Captain 
Belknap  about  those  lovely  albums  of  yours;  and  he  is  so  anxious  to 
see  them.      Could  he  have  a  look  at  them  to-night?" 

"  Why,  certainly !"  exclaimed  the  colonel,  all  heartiness  and  pleasure. 
"  Come  right  in,  Belknap,  come  in, — any  of  you, — all  of  you, — where 
it's  good  and  light."  And  he  hospitably  held  open  the  screen  door. 
Perry  had  seen  the  albums  a  dozen  times,  but  he  was  for  going  in  with 
the  others,  when  he  felt  a  little  hand-pressure  on  his  arm,  and  Mrs. 
Belknap's  great  dark  eyes  were  gazing  up  into  his  with  mournful,  in- 
credulous appeal. 

"  Don't  you  know  I  want  to  see  you  ?"  she  murmured  so  that  only 
he  could  hear.     "  Wait !" 

And,  much  bewildered,  Mr.  Perry  waited. 

She  stood  where  she  could  look  through  the  screen  door  into  the 
parlor  beyond,  watching  furtively  until  the  party  were  grouped  under 
the  hanging  lamps  and  absorbed  in  looking  over  one  another's  shoulders 
at  the  famous  albums ;  then,  beckoning  to  him  to  follow,  she  flitted, 
like  some  eerie  sprite,  on  tiptoe  to  the  southern  end  of  the  veranda, 
where  clustering  vines  hid  her  from  view  from  the  walk  along  the 
parade.  Perry  began  to  feel  queer,  as  he  afterwards  expressed  it,  but 
he  stalked  along  after  her,  declining  to  modulate  the  thunder  of  his 
heavy  heels  upon  the  resounding  gallery.  She  put  her  finger  to  her 
lips,  and,  after  a  nervous  glance  around,  looked  at  him  warningly, 
beseechingly. 

"  What  on  earth's  the  matter  ?"  was  all  the  perplexed  and  callow 
youth  could  find  to  say,  and  in  a  tone  so  utterly  devoid  of  romance, 
sentiment,  tenderness, — anything  she  wanted  to  hear, — that  in  all  her 
experience — and  she  had  had  not  a  little — pretty,  bewitching  little 
Mrs.  Belknap  could  recall  nothing  so  humiliating. 

"  How  Gan  you  be  so  unkind  to  me?"  at  last  she  whispered,  in  the 
tragic  tremolo  she  well  knew  to  be  effective :  it  had  done  execution 
over  and  again.  But  big,  handsome  Ned  Perry  looked  only  like  one 
in  a  maze ;  then  he  bent  over  her  in  genuine  concern  : 

"  Why,  Mrs.  Belknap !  What  has  happened  ?  What  has  gone 
wrong?     What  do  you  mean  by  unkindness?" 

She  faced  him,  indignantly  now  :  "  Is  it  possible  you  profess  not  to 
know?" 

"  By  all  that's  holy,  Mrs.  Belknap,  I  haven't  an  idea  of  what  you 
mean  to  charge  me  with.  Tell  me,  and  I'll  make  every  amend  I  know 
how." 

He  was  bending  over  her  in  genuine  distress  and  trouble  :  he  had 
no  thought  but  to  assure  her  of  his  innocence  of  any  conscious  wrong. 
She  was  leaning  upon  the  balcony  rail,  and  he  rested  one  strong  hand 
upon  the  post  at  the  shaded  corner,  above  her  head,  as  he  bowed  his 
own  to  catch  her  reply. 

For  a  moment  she  turned  her  face  away,  her  bosom  heaving,  her 
little  hands  clasping  nervously,  the  picture  of  wronged  and  sorrowing 


818  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

womanhood.  His  blunt,  rugged  honesty  was  something  she  had  never 
yet  had  to  deal  with.  This  indeed  was  "  game  worth  the  candle,"  but 
something  of  a  higher  order  than  the  threadbare  flirtations  she  had 
found  so  palatable  heretofore.  She  had  expected  him  to  be  revealed 
by  this  time  as  the  admirer  who  had  only  been  playing  a  part  in  his 
apparent  acceptance  of  the  situation  of  the  last  two  days ;  she  expected 
to  be  accused  of  coquetting  with  Dana,  of  neglect,  coldness,  insult 
towards  himself;  and  this  she  would  have  welcomed :  it  would  have 
shown  him  still  a  victim  in  her  toils,  a  mouse  she  might  toy  and  play 
with  indefinitely  before  bestowing  the  final  coup  de  grace.  But  instead 
of  it,  or  anything  like  it,  here  stood  the  tall,  handsome  young  fellow, 
utterly  ignoring  the  possibility  of  her  having  wronged  him,  and  only 
begging  to  be  told  how  he  had  affronted  her,  that  he  might  make  im- 
mediate amends.  It  was  simply  exasperating.  She  turned  suddenly 
upon  him,  hiding  her  face  in  her  hands,  almost  sobbing : 

"  And  I  thought  we  were  such — such  friends  !" 

Even  that  suggestive  tentative  did  not  lay  him  prostrate.  Fancy 
the  utter  inadequacy  of  his  response : 

"  Why,  so  did  I !"  This  was  too  much.  Down  came  the  hands, 
and  were  laid  in  frantic  appeal  upon  his  breast.  He  did  not  bar  the 
way ;  she  could  have  slipped  from  the  corner  without  difficulty ;  but 
the  other  method  was  more  dramatic. 

"Let  me  go,  Mr.  Perry,"  she  pleaded.  "I — I  might  have  known; 
I  might  have  known."     The  accents  were  stifled,  heart-rending. 

"  Don't  go  yet,  Mrs.  Belknap  ;  don't  go  without  telling  me  what — 
what  I've  done."  And  poor  Ned  imploringly  seized  the  little  hands 
in  both  his  and  held  them  tight.     "  Please  tell  me,"  he  pleaded. 

"  No,  no !  You  would  not  understand ;  you  do  not  see  what 
I  have  to  bear.  Let  me  go,  I  beg, — please.  I  cannot  stay."  And 
her  great  dark  eyes,  swimming  in  tears,  were  raised  to  his  face,  while 
with  faint — very  faint — struggles  she  strove  to  pull  her  hands  away, 
relenting  in  her  purpose  to  go  the  moment  she  felt  that  he  was  relaxing 
the  hold  in  which  they  were  clasped,  but  suddenly  wrenching  them 
from  his  breast  and  darting  from  his  side,  leaving  Perry  in  much 
bewilderment  to  face  about  and  confront  the  doctor. 

A  little  opening  had  been  left  in  the  railing  at  the  south  end  of  the 
veranda, — the  same  through  which  the  post  surgeon  had  passed  the 
night  Mrs.  Lawrence  had  shown  to  Perry  the  answering  signal-light : 
it  was  the  doctor's  "  short  cut"  between  the  colonel's  quarters  and  his 
own  side-door,  and  soft,  unbetraying  turf  lay  there  between.  Absorbed 
in  her  melodrama,  Mrs.  Belknap  had  failed  to  note  the  coming  of  the 
intruder ;  absorbed  in  his  own  stupefaction  and  his  fair  partner's 
apparent  depth  of  woe,  Ned  Perry  heard  nothing  but  her  soft  words 
and  softer  sighs,  until  a  deep  voice  at  his  shoulder — a  voice  whose  accent 
betrayed  no  apology  for  the  discovery  and  less  sympathy  for  the  dis- 
covered— gave  utterance  to  this  uncompromising  sentiment : 

"  Mrs.  Belknap,  this  is  the  thirtieth — not  the  first — of  April." 

"  And  what  has  that  to  do  with  your  sudden  appearance.  Dr.  Quin  ?" 
answered  the  lady,  with  smiling  lips  but  flashing  eyes.  She  rallied 
from  the  shock  of  sudden  volley  like  the  veteran  she  was,  and  took  the 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  819 

brunt  of  the  fight  on  her  own  white,  gleaming  shoulders,  needing  no 
aid  from  the  young  fellow  who  stood  there,  flushing,  annoyed,  yet  too 
perturbed  to  say  a  word  even  had  there  been  a  chance  to  get  one  in 
edgewise.  Blunt  as  he  was,  he  could  not  but  realize  the  awkwardness 
of  the  situation.  And  to  be  so  misjudged  by  such  a  man  as  Dr.  Quin ! 
All  this  was  flashing  through  his  mind  as  the  doctor  answered, — 

"  Nothing  with  my  appearance,  Mrs.  Belknap :  it  was  yours  I  re- 
marked upon.     You  seemed  to  think  it  All  Fools'  Day." 

"  Far  from  it,  doctor,  when  I  thought  you  miles  away." 

"  Well,  well,  Mrs.  Belknap,"  said  Quin,  shrugging  his  broad 
shoulders  and  laughing  at  her  undaunted  pluck,  "  I've  known  you 
fifteen  years,  and  never  have  found  you  at  a  loss  for  a  sharp  retort." 

"  In  all  the  years  you  have  known  me,  doctor,  as  child,  as  maid,  as 
woman,  you  are  the  only  man  in  the  army  who  ever  put  me  on  the 
defensive.  I  see  clearly  that  you  would  taunt  me  because  of  this  inter- 
view with  Mr.  Perry.  Honi  soil  qui  mal  y  pense,  Dr.  Quin  !  You  are 
the  last  man  in  this  garrison — cavalry  and  all — who  can  afford  to  throw 
stones." 

"  Whew-w-w  !"  whistled  the  doctor.  "  What  a  little  spitfire  you 
always  were,  to  be  sure  ! — Mr.  Perry,"  said  he,  turning  suddenly  on  the 
young  officer,  "  let  me  at  once  apologize  for  a  very  misleading  observa- 
tion. When  I  spoke  of  having  known  Mrs.  Belknap  fifteen  years  she 
instantly  thought  I  meant  to  make  her  out  very  much  older  than  she 
is ;  and  hence  these  recriminations.  She  always  objected  to  me  because 
I  used  to  tease  her  when  she  was  in  her  first  long  dresses, — the  prettiest 
girl  at  Fort  Leavenworth, — and  she's  never  gotten  over  it.  But  her 
father  and  I  were  good  friends,  and  I  should  like  to  be  an  honest  one 
to  his  daughter.     Good-night  to  you  both." 

"  One  moment.  Dr.  Quin,"  said  Perry,  springing  forward.  "  You 
have  seen  fit  to  make  comments  and  insinuations  that  have  annoyed 
Mrs.  Belknap  at  a  time  when  she  was  under  my  escort " 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Perry,  no !  no !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Belknap,  laying  her 
hand  on  his  arm.  "  Not  a  word  of  that  kind,  I  implore !  Hush  I 
here  comes  my  husband." 

"  Ah,  Belknap,"  said  the  doctor,  blandly,  as  the  big  captain  came 
hurriedly  forth  with  searching  glance  along  the  dark  gallery,  "  here  you 
find  me,  as  usual,  trying  to  be  devoted  to  Mrs.  B.  whenever  I  can  get 
you  out  of  the  way.     Why  the  jeuce  can't  you  stay  ?" 

"Oh,  it's  you,  is  it,  doctor?"  answered  the  captain,  in  tones  of 
evident  relief.  "  It  is  far  too  chilly  for  this  young  woman  to  be  sitting 
here  without  a  wrap,  is  it  not  ?  Come  inside,  Dolly.  Come,  doctor. — 
Halloo !  what's  that  ?" 

A  cavalry  trumpeter  came  springing  through  the  gate  and  up  on 
the  veranda. 

"  Is  Captain  Stryker  here  ?"  he  panted. 

"  No.     What's  the  matter  ?"  demanded  Perry. 

"  Trouble  at  the  stables,  sir.     Sergeant  Gwynne's  assaulted  again." 

Perry  sprang  from  the  veranda  and  went  tearing  across  the  dark 
level  of  the  parade  as  fast  as  active  legs  could  carry  him,  leaving  the 
doctor  far  behind.     As  he  passed  the  company  quarters  he  noted  that 


820  DVNRAVEN  RANCH. 

several  men  were  leaping  from  their  broad  galleries,  some  just  pulling 
on  a  blouse,  others  in  their  shirt-sleeves,  but  all  hastening  towards  the 
stables,  where  dim  lights  could  be  seen  flitting  about  like  will-o'-the- 
wisps.  One  of  these  troopers  came  bounding  to  his  side,  and  would 
have  passed  him  in  the  race.  He  recognized  the  athletic  form  even  in 
the  darkness,  and  hailed  him  : 

"  That  you.  Sergeant  Leary  ?     What's  gone  wrong  ?" 

"  It's  thim  blackguards  from  below,  sir.     Who  else  could  it  be  ?" 

"  Those  people  at  the  ranch  ?" 

"  The  very  ones,  sir.  No  one  else  would  harm  Sergeant  Gwynne. 
Sure  we  ought  to  have  wound  'em  up  the  one  night  we  had  a  chance, 
sir." 

Breathless,  almost,  they  reached  the  stables.  The  horses  were  all 
snorting,  stamping,  and  plunging  about  in  their  stalls,  showing  every 
indication  of  excitement  and  alarm.  From  the  stables  of  the  adjoining 
companies  other  men  had  come  with  lanterns,  and  a  group  of  perhaps 
half  a  dozen  troopers  was  gathered  about  the  form  of  a  cavalry  sergeant 
who  was  seated,  limp  and  exhausted,  at  the  western  door- way.  One 
soldier  was  bathing  his  face  with  a  sponge ;  the  first  sergeant  of  the 
troop  was  bending  over  and  trying  to  feel  the  pulse. 

"  Stand  back,  you  men  !"  he  said,  authoritatively,  as  he  caught 
sight  of  the  lieutenant's  shoulder-straps.  "  Leave  a  lantern  here. — Now, 
Gwynne,  here's  Lieutenant  Perry.     Can  you  tell  him  who  it  was?'^ 

Gwynne  feebly  strove  to  rise,  but  Perry  checked  him. 

"  Sit  down  !  The  doctor  is  coming ;  don't  attempt  to  move,"  panted 
the  young  officer.  "  Tell  me  what  you  know  about  it.  Sergeant  Hos- 
mer." 

"  Nothing  but  this,  sir.  I  was  in  the  office,  when  Trumpeter  Peter- 
sen ran  in  and  said  they  were  killing  Sergeant  Gwynne.  I  sent  him 
for  the  captain  and  grabbed  my  revolver  and  ran  here  as  hard  as  I  could. 
He  was  lying  just  outside  the  door  when  I  got  here,  and  not  another 
soul  in  sight.  Sergeant  Ross,  of  F  Troop,  and  Sergeant  Fagan,  of  B, 
came  with  their  lanterns  from  the  stables  next  door ;  but  they  had  not 
even  heard  the  trouble." 

"  Where  was  the  stable-guard  ?" 

"  Inside,  sir,  and  he's  there  now.  He  heard  the  scuffle,  he  says, 
and  ran  to  give  the  alarm  and  to  protect  the  sergeant,  but  the  men 
scattered  when  he  came,  and  he  saw  none  of  them." 

"  Tell  him  to  come  here.  Let  some  of  these  men  go  in  and  quiet 
the  horses.  The  captain  will  be  iiere  in  a  minute,  and  he  will  want  to 
see  that  stable-man.     Who  is  it  ?" 

"  Kelly,  sir." 

By  this  time  Dr.  Quin  came  lumbering  heavily  up  the  slope  to  the 
stable  door.  His  manner  was  very  quiet  and  very  grave  as  he  bent 
over  the  injured  man  and  carefully  studied  his  face  by  the  light  of  the 
sergeant's  lamp.  Gwynne  partially  opened  his  eyes  and  turned  his 
head  as  though  the  glare  were  too  painful.     The  doctor  spoke  gently : 

"You  know  me,  sergeant? — Dr.  Quin.  Can  you  tell  me  what 
struck  you  ?     Are  you  hurt  elsewhere  than  in  the  head  ?" 

Gwynne  made  no  reply  for  a  moment,  then  faintly  answered, — 


DVNRAVEN  RANCH.  821 

"  Stunned,  mainly,  and  one  or  two  kicks  after  I  was  knocked  down." 

Then  came  a  deeper  voice,  quiet  but  authoritative,  and  the  group 
that  had  begun  to  close  in  again  about  the  doctor  and  his  patient  fell 
back  as  Captain  Stryker  strode  into  their  midst. 

''  Sergeant  Hosmer,  send  all  these  men  of  the  troop  back  to  their 
quarters  at  once,  and  permit  no  more  to  come  out. — Is  he  much  hurt, 
doctor?" 

"  Somewhat  stunned,  he  says.     I've  made  no  examination  yet." 

The  captain  looked  about  him.  Except  one  sergeant  holding  a 
lantern,  the  other  troopers,  obedient  to  his  order,  were  slowly  fading 
back  into  the  darkness  on  their  way  to  the  barracks.  Only  the  doctor, 
Mr.  Perry,  and  the  sergeant  remained  by  the  side  of  the  injured  man. 
Then  came  the  question, — 

"  Who  did  this,  Gwynne?" 

No  answer.  A  deeper  shade  of  pain  and  trouble  seemed  to  pass 
over  the  young  sergeant's  face.  He  made  an  effort  to  speak,  hesitated, 
and  at  last  replied, — 

"  I  cannot  say,  sir." 

"  You  know,  do  you  not  ?" 

Again  pained  silence  and  embarrassment.  At  last  the  sergeant 
leaned  slowly  forward  and  spoke  : 

"Captain,  the  men  were  masked,  the  voices  disguised.  I  could  not 
see  the  dress  in  the  darkness.  I  was  struck  on  the  head  almost  the 
instant  I  got  outside  the  door,  and  it  would  be  impossible  for  me  to 
identify  one  of  them." 

"  Do  you  think  it  was  the  same  gang  you  had  the  trouble  with  at 
Dunraven  ?" 

"  I — could  not  say,  sir." 

"  Do  you  suspect  any  of  our  own  men  ?" 
^  "  I — would  not  say  that,  sir." 

"  Where  is  the  stable-guard  ?"  asked  Stryker.  "  Send  him 
here." 

And  presently  Trooper  Kelly — a  wiry  little  Irishman,  with  a 
twinkling  eye  and  an  expression  of  mingled  devilment  and  imperturba- 
bility in  his  face — came  forth  from  the  stable  door  and  stood  attention, 
awaiting  his  examination. 

"  Where  were  you  when  this  assault  took  place,  Kelly  ?" 

"  At  the  far  end  of  the  stables,  sir,"  replied  Kelly,  with  prompt 
and  confident  tone. 

"  Then  of  course  you  saw  and  know  nothing  of  it." 

"  Not  a  wor-rad,  sir." 

"  Why  did  you  let  a  gang  from  that  English  ranch  come  here  and 
beat  your  sergeant  before  your  very  eyes  ?"  * 

Kelly  reddened  at  the  very  idea  : 

"  I'd  ha'  died  first,  sir  !     Sure  they'd  niver  dared "     And  then 

Kelly  stopped  short.     His  Celtic  pride  had  been  touched  to  the  quick, 
and  had  it  not  proved  too  much  for  even  Irish  wit? 

"  How  did  they  get  the  sergeant  out  of  the  stable  at  this  hour  of 
the  night  ?" 

"  Sure  they  called  him  out,  sir." 


822  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

"  And  the  sergeant  happened  to  be  down  there  by  the  door  at  the 
time  ?" 

"  No,  sir  :  he  was  in  his  room,  beyaut, — up  there  by  the  forage." 

"  That's  a  long  distance  from  this  door,  Kelly ;  and  if  he  could 
hear  it  in  his  room  you  could  hear  it  farther  away." 

"  I  wasn't  farther  away  thin,  sir :  I  was  down  here  when  they 
axed  for  him." 

"  Then  why  didn't  you  open  the  door  and  see  who  was  making  such 
a  racket,  shouting  for  Sergeant  Gwynne  after  taps  ?" 

"  Sure  they  didn't  shout  at  all  at  all,  sir ;  they  axed  for  him  quiet 
and  respectable  like,  an'  I  wint  and  told  him." 

"  Ah,  yes,  I  see.  And  then,  having  told  him,  you  went  away  to 
the  far  end  of  the  stable." 

"  Yis,  sir, — just  so,  sir ;  an'  the  moment  I  heard  the  scrimmidge, 
sir,  I  ran  as  hard  as  I  could." 

"  Of  course  you  considered  it  was  none  of  your  business  what 
people  might  want  with  the  stable-sergeant  at  night." 

"  No,  sir.     If  he  wanted  me  he  had  a  right  to  tell  me  to  come.'' 

"  We  differ  on  that  point,  Kelly,"  said  the  captain,  quietly.  "  For 
a  guard,  you  displayed  a  lack  of  curiosity  that  is  simply  fatal. — Relieve 
him.  Sergeant  Hosmer,"  he  continued,  placidly,  and  then,  taking  Perry 
by  the  arm,  led  him  to  one  side.  There  was  a  few  minutes'  low-toned 
talk  between  the  officers  while  Gwynne  was  being  led  away  by  the 
doctor,  and  when  on  the  following  morning  Colonel  Brainard  looked 
over  the  report  of  Captain  Stryker's  troop  he  was  surprised  to  note  in 
the  column  of  remarks  explanatory  of  the  alterations  from  the  status 
of  the  previous  day, — 

"Sergeant  Gwynne  from  daily  duty  as  stable-sergeant  to  sick  in 
hospital,  Sergeant  Leary  from  duty  to  arrest,  and  Private  Kelly  from 
duty  to  confinement." 

XIII. 

Notwithstanding  the  fact  that  there  was  an  atmosphere  of  suppressed 
excitement  over  the  garrison  this  May-day  morning,  Mrs.  Belknap's 
hunt  came  off  according  to  plan,  and  the  three  heroines  of  the  previous 
run  rode  forth  with  but  slight  change  of  escort.  Captain  Stryker  felt 
constrained  to  remain  in  garrison  :  he  had  a  quiet  investigation  to  make, 
and  was  observed  to  be  in  close  conversation  with  Dr.  Quin  as  the  gay 
party  assembled  in  front  of  Colonel  Brainard's  quarters.  Mr.  Perry 
appeared  in  his  captain's  stead,  and  very  politely  requested  the  honor 
of  being  escort  to  Mrs.  Lawrence,  who  accepted,  yet  looked  a  trifle  em- 
barrassed as  she  did  so.  Indeed,  not  until  she  had  stolen  an  appealing 
glance  at  her  husband  and  heard  his  cordial  "  By  all  means,  dear : 
Perry  can  guide  you  far  better  than  I,  and  perhaps  you'll  win  another 
mask,"  did  she  thankfully  say  "  Yes."  Dana  rode  with  Mrs.  Belknap, 
as  before,  and  it  was  the  colonel  himself  who  suggested  to  Stryker  that 
Mr.  Perry  should  accompany  Mrs.  Lawrence  this  day,  and  that  he,  the 
colonel,  should  ride  with  Mrs.  Sprague. 

Perry  had  eagerly  lent  himself  to  the  proposition  :  he  figured  that 
now  he  could  have  an  uninterrupted  chat  with  Mrs.  Lawrence  and  hear 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  323 

what  she  had  to  tell  about  Diinraven.  Just  before  starting  he  sought 
Captain  Lawrence,  laughingly  told  him  the  terms  of  their  agreement, 
and  begged  that  he  would  relax  his  marital  injunction  and  permit  her 
to  give  him  such  details  as  she  happened  to  be  in  possession  of.  "  In- 
deed, Captain  Lawrence,"  he  said,  "  I  ask  from  no  idle  curiosity.  I 
have  been  to  the  ranch,  as  you  now  know,  and  have  good  reason  for 
asking."  To  his  surprise,  the  captain  replied  substantially  that,  while 
he  had  regretted  Mrs.  Lawrence's  impulsive  revelations,  he  had  thought 
it  all  over  and  decided  that  the  best  way  out  was  that  Perry  should  be 
told  the  whole  story  and  be  able  to  see  how  very  little  there  was  to  it. 
He  had  decided,  therefore,  to  tell  him  himself;  "  and  this  evening, 
Perry,  if  you  will  dine  with  us  informally,  we'll  talk  it  over  afterwards. 
Meantime,  I  prefer  Mrs.  Lawrence's  name  should  not  be  mentioned  in 
connection  with  any  story  there  may  be  afloat :  so  oblige  me  by  saying 
nothing  to  her  on  the  subject." 

This  was  one  matter  for  reflection,  and  something  of  a  surprise ; 
but  there  was  still  another,  and  even  greater  one.  That  very  morning, 
just  before  guard-mount,  and  while  he  was  dressing,  Perry  shouted, 
"  Come  in,"  responsive  to  a  knock  at  his  sitting-room  door,  and  in  came 
Captain  Stryker.  The  object  of  his  early  call  was  explained  in  very 
few  words. 

"  Perry,"  said  he,  "  I  have  been  over  to  see  Sergeant  Gwynne  this 
morning,  and  the  doctor  walked  back  from  hospital  with  me  and  told 
me  of  your  threatened  disagreement  of  last  night.  If  it  had  not  been 
for  that  sudden  call  to  the  stables  I  fancy  there  might  have  been  a 
quarrel.  Now,  I  think  you  know  I'm  one  of  the  last  men  to  let  an 
officer  of  my  regiment — especially  my  troop — be  placed  in  a  false  posi- 
tion, and — you  can  afford  to  leave  this  matter  in  my  hands,  can  you 
not?" 

"  Certainly,  Captain  Stryker." 

"Then  I  want  you  to  say  nothing  to  Quin  on  the  subject,  and  to 
treat  him,  as  far  as  possible,  as  though  nothing  had  happened.  His 
relations  with  the  lady's  father  and  family  were,  and  are,  such  that  she 
ought  to  treat  him  with  respect  and  deference,  and  to  accept  his  advice 
even  though  it  be  given  in  a  style  that  Carlyle,  his  favorite  author,  is 
mainly  responsible  for." 

"  There  was  absolutely  nothing  in — in  that Well,  captain," 

stammered  poor  Ned,  "  I  don't  know  how  to  say  what  I  want  to  say." 
He  wanted  to  say  there  was  nothing  in  that  interview  which  could 
possibly  be  criticised,  but  it  suddenly  occurred  to  him  that,  on  the  con- 
trary, there  was  a  good  deal.  Then  he  desired  to  assure  his  captain 
that,  so  far  as  he  was  concerned,  there  wasn't  a  suspicion  of  wrong- 
doing ;  but — heavens  and  earth  ! — that  was  equivalent  to  saying  the 
lady  was  doing  all  that  was  open  to  remark,  and  nothing  would  ever 
induce  him  to  "  give  away  a  woman,"  as  he  would  have  expressed  it. 
Perry  stammered  and  reddened  all  the  more,  and  at  last  gave  it  up  in 
despair,  Stryker  sitting  there  the  while  with  a  quiet  grin  on  his  bronzed 
face,  and  mechanically  slashing  his  boot-legs  with  a  riding-switch. 

"  I  think  I  understand  the  situation,  Perry,  and  there's  no  great 
barm  done.     Only,  let  the  matter  drop, — so  far  as  the  doctor  is  con- 


824  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

cerned,  I  mean :  I  do  not  presume  to  obtrude  advice  upon  you  as  to 
anything  else." 

And,  though  he  had  meditated  a  different  course,  and  had  fully  in- 
tended hunting  up  Dana  and  sending  him  with  a  note  to  call  upon  the 
doctor  for  an  "  explanation,"  he  was  glad  to  have  a  man  of  Stryker's 
standing  cry  halt.  All  the  same  he  was  sore  incensed  against  Dr. 
Quin, — mainly  because  of  the  jealous  pain  he  suffered  at  the  knowledge 
of  his  being  so  welcomed  by  Gladys  Maitland  when  he  saw  fit  to  visit 
the  ranch  ;  and  this  pain  gnawed  all  the  more  angrily  now  at  thought 
of  the  embarrassing — even  suspicious — situation  in  which  that  very 
man  had  found  him  on  the  previous  evening.  Pressing  duties  and 
hurried  preparations  kept  him  from  brooding  too  much  upon  these  sore 
points,  but  the  youngsters  all  rallied  him  upon  his  preoccupation  while 
at  their  merry  breakfast- table.  He  had  resolved  that  there  was  one 
thing  he  could  and  would  bring  to  an  issue  with  Dr.  Quin,  and  was  all 
impatience  for  the  coming  of  evening,  that  he  might  hear  from  the  lips 
of  Captain  Lawrence  the  actual  stories  that  had  been  in  circulation  con- 
cerning Duuraven  Ranch.  He  never  went  out  to  a  hunt  so  utterly 
indifferent  to  the  fortunes  of  the  day,  so  eager  to  have  it  all  over  and 
done  with.  And  yet — and  yet — never  had  there  opened  to  him  a  day 
so  radiant  with  glorious  possibility ;  never  before  in  all  his  young  life 
had  nightfall  proved  so  unwelcome  when  it  finally  came. 

The  first  rabbit  was  started  before  they  were  a  mile  from  Rossiter, 
and  the  hounds  tumbled  over  him  nearly  a  league  away  down  the 
valley  of  the  Monee.  It  was  while  they  were  watering  their  horses  in 
the  stream  that  Mrs.  Belknap  rode  up  beside  them  and  laughingly 
addressed  Mrs.  Lawrence : 

"  That  was  too  much  of  a  straight-away  for  either  of  us,  Mrs. 
Lawrence ;  but  what  wager  shall  we  have  on  the  first  mask  after  this  ?" 

"  Why,  Mrs.  Belknap !  I  can  never  hope  to  rival  you.  It  was 
mere  accident,  and  good  guiding  on  the  part  of  some  of  the  officers  who 
were  kind  enough  to  stay  by  me,  that  enabled  me  to  be  '  in  at  the  death' 
the  other  day." 

"  You  have  Mr.  Perry  to  lead  you  to-day.  Surely  with  such  a 
guide  you  ought  to  be  inspired. — Am  I  to  see  anything  of  you  to-day?" 
she  almost  whispered  to  him,  as  her  stirrup  brushed  his  riding-boot. 

"  Certainly,"  he  answered,  quietly,  and  looking  her  over  with  frank 
blue  eyes  that  were  rather  too  clear  and  calm  for  her  mood.  "  If  Mrs. 
Lawrence  will  excuse  me  a  few  moments  by  and  by,  it  will  be  a  pleasure 
to  come  and  ride  with  you.     I'll  ask  her." 

"  Indeed  you  shall  not,"  was  the  low-toned  reply,  while  the  dark 
eyes  fairly  snapped  with  indignation.  "  I  do  not  borrow  other  women's 
escort.     If  you  know  no  other  way,  that  ends  it." 

And  then  Mrs.  Sprague's  cheery  voice  had  hailed  them  as  her 
eager  horse  came  splashing  into  the  stream  ;  no  opportunity  occurred 
for  further  impressive  remarks,  but  as  the  "  field"  rode  out  upon  the 
prairie  again  and  the  dogs  spread  their  yelping  skirmish-line  along  the 
front,  Mrs.  Belknap  felt  confident  that  before  they  returned  to  Rossiter 
she  would  have  her  big,  simple-hearted  admirer  in  some  shape  for  dis- 
cipline.    Two  capital  runs  added  to  her  self-satisfaction,  for  in  one  of 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  825 

them  she  was  side  by  side  with  the  foremost  rider  at  the  finish,  and  in 
both  she  had  left  the  other  women  far  in  rear.  Then  came  a  third,  and 
with  it  a  revelation  to  one  and  all. 

It  was  almost  noon,  and  from  a  point  well  out  on  the  prairie  to  the 
northeast  of  Dunraven  the  "  field"  was  hunting  slowly  homeward,  horses 
and  hounds  pretty  well  tired  out,  and  the  riders  quite  content  with  their 
morning's  sport.  Up  to  this  time  Perry  had  been  in  constant  attend- 
ance on  Mrs.  Lawrence,  and  had  made  no  effort  to  join  Mrs.  Belknap. 
Now,  however,  he  could  not  but  see  that  every  little  while  her  eyes 
sought  his  with  significant  glance  and  that  she  was  riding  well  out  to 
the  left  of  the  party,  Dana  faithfully  hovering  about  her.  The  colonel 
with  Mrs.  Sprague  ranged  alongside  just  then,  and  a  general  conversa- 
tion ensued,  in  the  course  of  which  Perry  found  himself  a  trifle  in  the 
way.  If  there  was. one  thing  fastidious  Nolan  did  not  like,  it  was  to 
be  crowded  by  horses  for  whom  he  had  no  particular  respect ;  and,  as  a 
number  of  riders  were  grouped  about  Mrs.  Lawrence  at  the  moment, 
it  resulted  that  Nolan's  teeth  and  heels  began  to  make  play,  and  Perry 
laughingly  resigned  his  position  at  her  side,  in  order,  as  he  expressed  it, 
"  to  give  you  other  fellows  a  chance."  Even  then,  as  he  fell  to  the  rear, 
it  was  with  no  thought  or  intention  of  joining  Mrs.  Belknap.  But,  once 
clear  of  the  merry  group,  his  eyes  sought  the  distant  outlines  of  Dun- 
raven  Ranch,  glaring  in  the  noonday  sun  beyond  the  Monee,  and  be- 
tween him  and  that  mysterious  enclosure  whither  his  thoughts  were  so 
constantly  wandering  there  rode  the  dainty  lady,  the  Queen  of  the  Chase, 
so  far  as  that  day  was  concerned  at  least,  and  she  Avas  signalling  to  him 
with  her  riding-whip.  Oddly  enough,  when  Perry  rode  up  to  obey  her 
summons,  Mr.  Dana  presently  found  means  to  excuse  himself  and  join 
the  main  body. 

"  Mr.  Perry,"  she  said,  as  soon  as  Dana  was  out  of  hearing,  "  Mrs. 
Page  will  be  with  us  to-night,  or  to-morrow  morning  at  latest," 

"  Will  she  ?"  answered  he,  unconscious,  forgetful,  and  with  an  air 
of  pleased  anticipation.  "  How  pleasant  for  you  !  I'll  come  and  pay 
my  respects  the  very  first  thing." 

"  You  do  not  understand,"  was  the  reproachful  response.  "  You 
do  not  care,  I  preeume ;  but  this  means  that  you  and  I  will  have  no 
more  long  talks  and  happy  times  together." 

"  I'm  awfully  sorry,  Mrs.  Belknap,  but  I'm  blessed  if  I  can  see 
why  we  shouldn't." 

"  No,"  despairingly,  "  it  is  plain  enough  that  you  see  nothing.  Ah, 
well !" — and  the  sigh  was  pathetic-profound,  and  the  look  from  the 
dark  eyes  was  unutterable  in  its  sadness,  "  I  suppose  it  is  better  so, — 
better  so."  She  was  silent  a  moment,  and  Perry's  puzzled  faculties  took 
refuge  in  a  long  look  over  towards  Dunraven  again  :  he  fancied  he  saw 
figures  moving  down  the  slope  on  the  southern  side. 

"  One  thing  I  want  you  to  promise  me,"  she  presently  said,  sad  and 
soft  and  low.  There  was  no  reply.  Looking  up,  she  saw  his  head 
Avas  averted.  Was  he  feeling  the  sting,  then,  after  all  ?  Was  he 
actually  suffering  a  little  pang  after  this  affectation  of  nonchalance  ? 

"  One  thing  you  must  promise,  for  my  sake,"  she  repeated. 

And  still  no  answer  came.     How  odd  !     He  was  bending  over  in 


826  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

the  saddle  as  though  turning  from  her, — perhaps  to  hide  his  face  from 
her  and  from  them  all.  He  had  shifted  the  reins  into  his  right  hand, 
and  was  apparently  fumbling  at  the  breast  of  his  riding-coat  with  the 
left.  Was  it  the  handkerchief  he  needed  ?  Were  there  starting  tears 
in  those  blue  eyes  that  he  dared  not  let  her  see  ?  She  could  not  lose 
that  luxury  !  Out  went  the  little  hand  and  touched  his  arm.  Her 
tone  was  sweet,  thrilling,  appealing,  yet  commanding  :  she  would  see  his 
face. 

"  Mr.  Perry, — Ned  !  Look  at  me." 

"  Eh  !  oh  !  What !  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mrs.  Belknap,  but  I  was 
trying  to  make  out  who  that  was  in  the  timber  yonder.  Looks — looks 
almost  like  a  woman  on  horseback,  doesn't  it  ?" 

But  when  he  appealed  to  her  for  confirmation  of  his  timid,  half- 
credulous  vision  he  was  aghast  at  the  look  in  her  face. 

"  You  were  not  listening  !  You  were  not  even  thinking  of  what  I 
was  saying !"  she  began,  her  white  teeth  set,  her  soft  lips  livid  with 
wrath ;  but  she  suddenly  controlled  herself, — none  too  soon,  for  Dana 
came  trotting  up. 

"  Say,  Perry,  what  do  you  make  that  out  to  be  down  there  in  the 
valley  ?     Colonel  Brainard  and  I  feel  sure  it's  a  lady  on  horseback." 

And,  looking  at  Perry,  Mrs.  Belknap  saw  that  he  had  flushed  to 
the  very  temples, — that  an  eager,  joyous  light  had  sprung  to  his  eyes ; 
but  before  she  could  say  a  word  there  came  a  shout  from  the  huntsman, 
a  yell  from  the  leading  line,  a  simultaneous  yelp  from  the  curs  and 
mongrels  among  the  "  irregulars,"  and  her  horse  leaped  at  the  bit  and 
went  tearing  oflF  towards  the  Monee,  foremost  in  mad  pursuit  of  a 
wildly  careering  "jack." 

"  Come !"  she  called,  as  she  glanced  over  her  shoulder ;  but  the 
sight  was  one  that  only  added  to  her  wrath.  Nolan,  plunging  and 
snorting,  was  held  to  the  spot,  while  his  rider,  sitting  like  a  centaur, 
was  still  eagerly  gazing  over  into  the  distant  cotton  woods.  The  next 
instant  she  realized  that  all  the  field  were  thundering  at  her  heels,  and 
the  instinct  of  the  sportsman  came  to  her  aid.  She  could  not  be  beaten 
in  the  chase. 

For  half  a  mile  Bunny  shot  like  a  streak  of  light  straight  away 
southwestward,  the  hounds  bunched  in  a  slaty,  sweeping  cloud  not 
thirty  yards  behind  the  bobbing  tuft  of  his  tail.  Then  he  began  a 
long  circle  towards  the  stream,  as  though  to  head  for  a  "  break"  that 
extended  some  rods  back  from  the  line  of  bluffs.  Another  minute,  and 
he  had  reached  its  partial  shelter  and  darted  in.  For  the  next  minute 
he  was  lost  to  sight  of  his  human  pursuers,  but  presently  flashed  into 
view  again  down  in  the  creek-bottom  and  "streaking  it"  up  along  the 
northern  bank,  with  the  whole  pack  at  his  heels.  The  bluffs  were  steep 
just  here,  some  of  the  riders  a  trifle  timid,  and  all  the  "field"  reined 
in  a  little  as  they  made  the  descent ;  Dana,  Mrs.  Belknap,  Parke,  Mrs. 
Lawrence,  Graham,  the  colonel,  and  Mrs.  Sprague  straightened  out  for 
their  pursuit  in  the  order  named  the  instant  they  reached  the  level  of 
the  valley.  The  hounds  were  far  ahead  by  this  time,  and  the  two  light 
troopers  in  charge  of  them  close  at  their  heels ;  but  who — what  was 
the  figure  that  flashed  into  view  between  those  huntsmen  and  the  field. 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  827 

darting  like  arrow  from  the  fringe  of  willows  and  dashing  straight  in 
wake  of  the  quarry?  Thirty  yards  ahead  of  the  foremost  riders  of 
the  Rossiter  party  a  superb  English  hunter,  the  bit  in  his  teeth,  his 
eyes  afire  and  his  head  high  in  air,  fresh,  vigorous,  raging  with  long- 
imprisoned  passion  for  the  sport  of  the  old  island  home,  gaining  on 
the  hounds  at  every  stride,  and  defying  the  utmost  efforts  of  his  rider, 
leaped  from  the  covert  of  the  timber  into  sight  of  one  and  all,  bearing 
a  lovely  but  most  reluctant  victim  on  his  back. 

In  vain  with  might  and  main  she  leaned  back  and  tugged  at  the 
reins :  though  checked  in  his  speed,  the  horse  still  tore  ahead,  keeping 
straight  for  the  hounds,  leaping  in  his  easy  stride  every  little  gully  or 
"  branch"  that  crossed  his  path.  Bunny  took  a  sudden  dive  into  the 
timber,  fairly  flew  across  a  narrow,  gravelly  rapid,  and  darted  up  on 
the  opposite  bank ;  the  hounds  veered  in  pursuit,  the  huntsmen  wavered 
and  sought  along  the  bank  for  a  better  place  to  cross,  but  the  mettlesome 
English  bay  lunged  through  in  the  very  wake  of  the  hounds,  crumbling 
the  sandy  banks  and  crashing  through  the  pebbly  stream-bed.  Out  on 
the  southern  slopes  went  Bunny,  close  followed  by  the  hounds ;  out  on 
their  trail  went  the  big  hunter,  but  his  rider's  hat  has  been  brushed 
away  in  the  wild  dash  though  the  timber,  and  now  a  flame  of  beautiful 
golden  hair — a  great  wave  of  light — flies  on  the  wind  over  his  glossy 
back,  and,  though  she  still  leans  over  the  cantle  tugging  hard  at  the 
reins,  she  is  plainly  losing  strength.  Some  of  the  Rossiter  party  burst 
through  the  timber  in  pursuit ;  some  still  ride  hopefully  up  the  north 
bank,  and  these  are  rewarded,  for  once  again  poor,  badgered,  bewildered 
Bunny  makes  a  sudden  swerve,  and,  throwing  half  the  hounds  far  be- 
hind, darts  a  second  time  to  the  shelter  of  the  banks,  with  the  other 
half  closer  at  his  heels  than  before.  Those  who  are  watching  see  the 
big  hunter  make  a  long,  circular  sweep,  then  once  again  bring  up  in 
the  wake  of  the  leaders,  once  more  go  leaping,  plunging,  crashing 
through  the  stream,  and,  in  another  minute,  rabbit,  hounds,  huntsmen, 
the  "  field,"  and  the  fair  incognita  are  all  strung  out  in  chase  along  the 
northern  shore,  and  all  eyes  can  see  that  she  is  an  English  girl  and 
wellnigh  exhausted.  Still,  no  man  can  catch  that  hunter  and  lay 
hands  on  the  rein.  She  is  riding  with  the  very  foremost  now,  leading 
the  troopers,  even,  and  still  Bunny  spins  along  in  front,  the  hounds  gnash- 
ing not  six  feet  behind  him.  A  little  point  of  bluff  juts  out  just 
ahead ;  the  stream  winds  around  its  base  and  takes  a  turn  northward 
for  a  dozen  rods.  Bunny  shoots  the  turn  like  the  pilot  of  the  lightning 
express,  the  hounds  strain  to  make  it  without  loss  of  vantage  gained, 
the  big  hunter  sways  outward  to  the  very  verge  of  the  steep  and 
crumbling  bank,  and  a  groan  goes  up  from  the  breathless  pursuers ; 
but  he  rallies  and  straightens  once  more  in  the  track,  and  the  golden 
hair,  streaming  in  the  advance,  is  the  oriflamme  of  the  chase.  Then  as 
they  round  the  point  Dana  gives  a  shout  of  joy.  Straight  down  the 
slopes,  straight  and  swift  as  rode  the  daring  hussar  from  whom  he  got 
his  name,  when  he  bore  the  fatal  message  like  arrow-flight  from  the 
Sapoun6  crest  at  Balaklava,  down  the  bluffs  to  the  right  front  comes 
Nolan,  with  Ned  Perry  on  his  back, — Perry  with  set,  resolute,  yet 
almost  frenzied  face, — Perry  with  eyes  that  flash  blue  fire  in  the  in- 


828  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

tensity  of  their  gaze, — and  Nolan's  vigorous  strides  have  brought 
him  in  circling  sweep,  in  just  ten  seconds  more,  close  to  the  hunter's 
quarter,  close  behind  the  fluttering  skirt.  Just  ahead  there  is  another 
sudden  turn  to  the  left :  the  stream  goes  one  way,  the  bluffs  another, 
and  between  them  lies  a  five-acre  patch  of  level  prairie  thickly  studded, 
here,  there,  everywhere,  with  tiny  earthen  mounds  and  tiny,  gaping, 
treacherous  holes, — a  prairie-dog  village,  by  all  that's  awful !  and  that 
runaway  hunter,  mad  in  the  chase  of  the  sweeping  hounds,  is  in  the 
midst  of  it  before  mortal  hand  can  check  or  swerve  him.  Another 
second,  and  they  who  pursue  have  veered  to  right  or  left  or  reined  up 
on  the  verge, — all  save  one.  Never  faltering,  Ned  Perry  is  at  her 
hunter's  quarter, — almost  at  her  side.  They  see  him  spurring,  they  see 
him  bending  eagerly  towards  her,  they  see  that  he  is  shouting  something 
to  her, — Heaven  knows  what !  Then  there  is  a  groan  of  misery  and 
dread  from  a  dozen  breasts, — a  groan  that  as  suddenly  bursts  into  the 
gladdest  of  cheers :  the  hunter's  forefoot  has  caught  in  one  of  the  thou- 
sand little  death-traps ;  down  he  goes,  plunging,  heaving,  quivering, 
rolling  over  and  over;  but  Nolan  leaps  gallantly  ahead,  and  Ned  Perry's 
strong  arm  has  lifted  the  girl  from  the  saddle  as  her  steed  goes  crashing 
to  earth,  and  bears  her,  drooping,  faint,  frightened,  wellnigh  senseless, 
but  safe  and  clasped  tight  to  his  thankful  and  exultant  heart. 

Another  instant,  and  Nolan  is  reined  in  in  the  very  midst  of  the 
tumbling  hounds,  and  Gladys  Maitland  is  the  only  woman  "  in  at  the 
death." 

XIV. 

The  group  that  gathers  there  a  moment  later  is  as  interested  a 
party  as  the  central  figures  are  interesting.  Unable  to  set  her  left  foot 
to  the  ground,  and  still  encircled  by  Perry's  arm,  Miss  Maitland  stands 
leaning  heavily  on  his  breast.  She  is  very  pale  for  a  moment,  partly 
from  exhaustion,  partly  from  pain,  for  there  was  no  time  to  free  her 
foot  from  the  stirrup,  and  the  ankle  is  severely  wrenched.  Nolan, 
riderless  now  and  cast  loose,  stands  with  lowered  head  and  heaving 
flanks  a  sympathetic  but  proudly  heroic  looker-on  :  he  knows  he  has 
played  his  part  in  that  rescue.  The  huge  English  hunter  is  plunging 
in  misery  among  the  mounds  a  few  yards  back,  his  fore-leg  broken. 
One  of  the  troopers  has  seized  his  bridle,  and  another  is  unstrapping 
the  heavy  English  saddle.  '^  Splendidly  done  !"  says  the  colonel,  as 
he  trots  carefully  up,  casting  a  glance  at  the  fallen  cause  of  all  the  mis- 
chief, "  but  if  that  saddle  had  been  one  of  those  three-pronged  abomi- 
nations he  couldn't  have  swept  her  off  as  he  did."  Graham  has 
galloped  to  the  stream  for  water,  and  the  colonel  lifts  Mrs.  Sprague 
from  her  saddle,  and  together  they  advance  to  offer  sympathy  and  aid. 
Mrs.  Lawrence  follows  as  quickly  as  she  can  pick  her  way  among  the 
prairie-dog  holes.  Dana  has  deserted  Mrs.  Belknap,  and  she  alone 
remains  mounted  while  all  these  others  throng  about  the  two  who  stand 
there  for  the  moment,  clinging  to  each  other.  And  now  Gladys  Mait- 
land has  raised  her  head ;  blushes  of  shame  and  confusion  triumph 
over  pallor  and  pain ;  she  strives  to  stand  alone,  but  Perry  bids  her 
desist.     The  moment  she  sees  Mrs.  Sprague's  sweet,  womanly,  sympa- 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  g29 

thetic  face  her  eyes  are  filled  with  comfort  and  her  heart  goes  out  to 
her.  Most  reluctantly  Perry  resigns  his  prize  to  the  arms  that  open  to 
receive  her,  and  then  come  the  wondering  exclamations  of  some,  and 
the  brief,  breathless  explanations. 

"  Don't  try  to  talk  yet,"  pleads  Mrs.  Sprague.  "  We  are  only  too 
glad  it  was  no  worse." 

"  Indeed,  I'm  not  hurt,"  answers  Gladys,  bravely, — "  only  a  little 
wrench,  but,"  and  she  laughs  nervously,  trying  to  carry  it  oif  with  all 
the  pluck  and  spirit  of  her  race,  "  it  would  have  been  what  we  call  a 
'  nasty  cropper'  at  home  if" — and  her  eyes  turn  shyly  yet  with  a  world 
of  gratitude  to  his — "  it  had  not  been  for  Mr.  Perry." 

"  Oh,  then  you  know  Mr.  Perry !"  exclaims  Mrs.  Sprague,  with 
frank  delight,  and  Mrs.  Lawrence  turns  in  rejoicing  to  look  first  in  his 
glowing  face,  then  at  the  dark  beauty  of  Mrs.  Belknap  silently  listen- 
ing.    "  Why,  we  had  no  idea "     And  she  concludes  irresolutely. 

"  Oh,  yes :  we  met  at  the  ranch, — at  home.  I  am  Miss  Maitland, 
you  know ;  and  that  is  my  father's  place.  But  we've  only  just  come," 
she  adds,  with  the  woman's  natural  desire  to  explain  to  new-found 
friends  why  and  how  it  was  that  they  had  not  met  before.  And  then 
the  group  is  joined  by  a  bulky  young  Briton  in  the  garb  of  a  groom, 
though  modified  to  suit  the  requirements  of  frontier  life :  he  comes 
cantering  to  the  scene  all  elbows  and  consternation  ;  he  gives  a  groan  of 
dismay  at  sight  of  the  prostrate  hunter,  but  rides  directly  to  his  mis- 
tress. She  is  paling  again  now,  and  in  evident  pain,  and  Perry's  face 
is  a  study  as  he  stands,  his  eyes  riveted  upon  her;  but  she  strives  to 
smile  and  reassure  him. 

"  You'll  have  to  ride  to  Dunr — to  the  ranch,  Griggs,"  she  said ; 
"and — there's  no  help  for  it — papa  will  have  to  be  told.  Let  them 
send  for  me." 

"  Pardon  me.  Miss  Maitland,"  interrupted  Colonel  Brainard. 
"  You  are  almost  under  the  walls  of  Fort  Rossiter,  and  Dunraven  is 
miles  away.  I  have  sent  a  swift  horse  for  Dr.  Quin  and  a  spring  am- 
bulance. We  cannot  let  you  go  home,  now  that  you  are  so  near  us, 
until  you  have  had  rest  and  proper  care." 

"  Indeed  we  cannot,  Miss  Maitland,"  chimed  in  both  ladies  at  a 
breath.  "  You  are  to  come  right  to  ray  house  until  you  are  fit  to 
travel." 

"  I'm  not  very  fit  just  now,  certainly,"  she  answers,  with  a  faint 
smile ;  "  but  I  can  surely  wait  here  until  they  send :  'twill  not  be 
more  than  an  hour  at  most." 

"  It  will  be  two  hours, — perhaps  three, — Miss  Maitland,"  pleaded 
Perry,  bending  eagerly  forward.     ^'Do  listen  to  our  ladies  I" 

And  "  our  ladies"  prevailed.  While  Griggs  went  sputtering  off  to 
Dunraven  with  the  sorrowful  news,  the  strong  arms  of  Perry  and 
Graham  lifted  and  bore  their  English  captive  to  the  shade  of  a  clump 
of  cotton  woods.  Mrs.  Sprague  and  Mrs.  Lawrence  managed  to  make 
a  little  couch  for  her  as  a  temporary  resort.  Mrs.  Belknap  rode  up  and 
was  formally  introduced,  then  galloped  away  to  Rossiter  to  send  blankets 
for  the  picnic-couch  and  see  to  the  pillows  of  the  ambulance.  The 
colonel  and  Perry  remained  with  the  ladies  and  engrossed  their  atten- 
YoL.  XLII.— 54 


830  DVNRAVEN  RANCH. 

tion  while  Graham  went  back  and  sent  two  pistol-bullets  into  the  strug- 
gling hunter's  brain,  stilling  his  pain  forever.  Then  came  Dr.  Quin 
galloping  like  the  wind  down  the  familiar  trail,  chiding  "  Gladys"  as 
though  his  right  to  do  so  were  a  long-established  thing,  and  thereby 
setting  Perry's  teeth  on  edge,  and,  long  before  the  call  for  afternoon 
stables  was  sounding,  the  fair  daughter  of  Dunraven  Ranch  was  housed 
within  the  walls  of  Rossiter  and  the  "  ice  was  broken."  Perry  had 
had  the  joy  of  helping  carry  her  into  Mrs.  Sprague's  coolest  and  cosiest 
room.  She  had  held  forth  her  hand — such  a  long,  white,  beautiful 
hand — and  let  it  rest  in  his  while  she  said,  "  You  know  how  impossible 
it  is  for  me  to  tell  you  how  I  thank  you,  Mr.  Perry,"  and  he  had  simply 
bowed  over  it,  longing  to  say  what  he  thought,  but  powerless  to  think 
of  anything  else  ;  and  then  he  had  gone  to  his  own  quarters  and  shut 
himself  in.  Mrs.  Sprague — bless  her  ! — had  invited  him  to  call  after 
retreat,  and  he  had  totally  forgotten  the  Lawrences'  dinner  when  he 
said  he  would  be  only  too  glad  to  come. 

At  the  sounding  of  stable -call  his  darky  servant  banged  at  the 
door  and  roused  him  from  his  revery.  He  rose  mechanically  and  went 
out  into  the  broad  sunshine,  glancing  first  along  the  row  to  see  how 
things  were  looking  at  the  Spi'agues',  and  wishing  with  all  his  heart 
that  they  were  somewhere  within  reach  of  a  conservatory,  that  he  might 
send  a  heaping  box  of  fresh  and  dewy  roses  to  that  sacred  room  where 
she  lay.  How  many  a  time,  he  thought,  had  he  strolled  into  some 
odorous  shop  in  the  cities  where  his  "  leaves"  were  spent,  and  carelessly 
ordered  cut  flowers  by  the  cubic  foot  sent  with  his  card  to  some  one 
with  whom  he  had  danced  the  german  the  night  before  and  never  ex- 
pected to  see  again  !  What  wouldn't  he  give  now  for  just  a  few  of 
those  wasted,  faded,  forgotten  flowers  !  He  could  see  that  the  window 
was  raised  in  the  room  to  which  they  had  carried  her,  and  a  soft  breeze 
was  playing  in  the  folds  of  the  white  curtain ;  but  no  one  was  visible. 
Dreamily,  and  with  no  thought  or  look  for  other  beings  in  the  little 
garrison,  he  strode  across  the  parade.  An  ambulance,  dusty  and  travel- 
stained,  was  in  front  of  Belknap's,  and  a  couple  of  trunks — unmis- 
takably feminine  property — were  being  unloaded.  He  could  have  seen 
it,  had  he  glanced  over  his  left  shoulder,  and  drawn  the  inference  that 
"  Mrs.  Page"  had  arrived  ;  but  his  thoughts  were  engrossed  in  the  other 
direction.  Then  Graham  came  bounding  along  to  join  him,  and  near 
the  quarters  stood  Captain  Stryker,  waiting  for  him,  and  both  of  them 
were  unwilling  to  talk  of  anything  but  his  exploit  of  a  few  hours 
l)efore :  it  was  all  over  the  garrison  by  this  time,  and  so  was  the  news 
that  Dunraven's  fair  and  hitherto  unknown  mistress  was  now  the  guest 
of  Fort  Rossiter.  All  his  jollity  and  gladness  seemed  to  have  ebbed 
away.  Perry  almost  wished  she  were  back  at  Dunraven  and  that  no 
one  knew  of  her  existence  but  himself  and  that  he  were  kneeling  beside 
her  once  again,  aiding  her  in  restoring  her  stricken  father  to  conscious- 
ness. But  then  he  thought  of  the  sudden  arrival  that  had  so  discon- 
certed him  that  night,  and  to-day  again.  What  did  it  mean  that  Quin 
assumed  such  airs  of  authority  ?     How  dare  he  call  her  Gladys  ? 

Stables  that  afternoon  proved  a  sore  trial  to  him.  Graham  had  to 
leave  and  go  to  his  own  troop ;  Parke  took  his  place,  and  was  all 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  831 

lively  enthusiasm  and  congratulation,  yet  wondering  at  the  mood  in 
which  he  found  his  friend.  Stryker,  after  shaking  his  hand  and  say- 
ing a  few  words  of  quiet  commendation,  noted  the  constraint  upon  his 
usually  lively  subaltern,  and  wisely  drew  his  own  conclusions.  The 
captain  had  been  engaged  much  of  the  morning  on  an  investigation  of 
the  mysterious  assault  on  Sergeant  Gwynne,  and  the  developments  had 
been  such  as  to  surround  the  case  with  additional  interest,  even  though 
nothing  tangible  in  the  way  of  evidence  was  educed.  He  had  purposed 
having  a  talk  with  Perry  while  at  stables,  but,  after  one  or  two  search- 
ing glances  at  his  face,  Stryker  concluded  it  best  to  postpone  his  proposed 
conference,  and  so  allowed  Perry  to  go  on  about  his  usual  duties ;  but 
he  smiled  in  his  quiet  way  when  he  noted  the  evident  relief  with  which 
his  subaltern  heard  the  order  "  Lead  in  !"  that  announced  that  grooming 
was  over.  It  was  fifteen  minutes  more,  however,  before  the  evening 
duties  were  complete ;  and  when  at  last  the  men  went  swinging  home- 
ward in  their  white  canvas  frocks  and  Perry  could  return  to  his  quarters 
to  dress  for  his  eagerly-anticipated  call,  the  first  thing  that  met  his  eyes 
as  he  came  in  sight  of  officers'  row  was  a  huge,  bulky,  covered  travel- 
ling-carriage in  front  of  Sprague's.  Two  or  three  ladies  were  there  at 
the  gate.  Mr.  Ewen,  the  English  manager,  was  just  mounting  his 
horse ;  Dr.  Quin,  too,  was  there  and  already  in  saddle ;  and  before 
poor  Perry  could  get  half-way  across  the  parade,  and  just  as  the 
trumpets  were  sounding  mess-call  for  supper,  the  bulky  vehicle  started ; 
the  ladies  waved  their  handkerchiefs  and  kissed  their  hands,  and,  es- 
corted by  Ewen  and  the  doctor,  saluted  by  Colonel  Brainard  and  the 
adjutant  with  raised  forage-caps,  Gladys  Maitland  was  driven  slowly 
away, — and  Mrs.  Belknap  stood  there  in  the  little  group  of  ladies 
smiling  sweetly  upon  him  as  he  hastened  towards  them.  For  many 
a  long  day  afterwards  mess-call  always  made  him  think  of  Mrs.  Bel- 
knap's smile,  and  Mrs.  Belknap's  smile  of  mess-call.  He  shuddered 
at  sound  of  one  or  sight  of  the  other. 

It  was  Mrs.  Sprague  who  stepped  forward  to  greet  him,  her  womanly 
heart  filled  with  sympathy  for  the  sentiment  she  suspected.  She  had 
to  push  by  Mrs.  Belknap  to  reach  him;  but,  this  time,  no  consideration 
of  etiquette  stood  in  the  way. 

"  It  couldn't  be  helped,"  she  said,  in  low,  hurried  tone,  her  kind 
eyes  searching  his,  so  clouded  in  the  bitterness  of  his  disappointment. 
"  It  couldn't  be  helped.  The  news  of  her  accident — or  something — 
brought  on  a  seizure  of  some  kind.  Mr.  Maitland  was  taken  very  ill, 
and  they  sent  for  her.  The  manager  came,  and  with  him  her  old 
nurse,  Mrs.  Cowan,  and  Dr.  Quin  said  she  could  be  moved  without 
trouble :  so  she  had  to  go.  I  hated  to  have  her,  too,  for  I've  hardly 
had  a  word  with  her :  Mrs.  Belknap  has  been  there  most  of  the  after- 
noon, even  when  she  had  a  guest  of  her  own  just  arrived,  too."  And 
Mrs.  Sprague  could  not  but  show  her  vexation  at  this  retrospect. 

Perry  stood  in  silence,  looking  yearningly  after  the  retreating  vehicle. 
It  would  take  him  but  a  few  minutes  to  hasten  to  stables  and  saddle 
Nolan ;  he  could  easily  catch  them  before  they  had  gone  two  miles ; 
but  there  was  parade,  and  he  could  not  ask  to  be  excused.  Not  until 
he  suddenly  looked  around  and  saw  that  Mrs.  Belknap's  dark  eyes 


832  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

were  fixed  in  close  scrutiny  upon  his  face  did  he  realize  how  he  was 
betraying  himself.     Then  he  rallied,  but  with  evident  effort. 

The  colonel  was  standing  but  a  few  paces  away,  chatting  with  Mrs. 
Lawrence  and  his  faithful  adjutant.  Mrs.  Sprague  stepped  quickly 
towards  him  and  spoke  a  few  words  in  a  low  tone,  while  Mrs.  Belknap 
remained  looking  straight  into  Perry's  eyes.  Before  the  young  fellow 
could  gather  himself,  Colonel  Brainard,  as  though  in  reply  to  a  sug- 
gestion of  Mrs.  Sprague's,  suddenly  started,  exclaiming,  "  Why,  by  all 
means  !"  and  then  called  aloud, — 

"  Oh  !  Perry,  why  not  gallop  down  and  overtake  the  Dunraven 
carriage  and  say  good-by?  Here's  my  horse  all  saddled  now  right  in 
the  yard.     Take  him  and  go  :  /  would." 

There  was  something  so  hearty  and  genial  and  sympathetic  in  the 
colonel's  manner  that  Perry's  fiice  flushed  despite  his  effort  at  noncha- 
lance. The  thought  of  seeing  her  again  and  hearing  her  sweet  voice 
was  a  powerful  incentive.  He  longed  to  go.  The  colonel's  invitation 
was  equivalent  to  an  excuse  from  parade.  There  was  no  reason  why 
he  should  not  go.  He  was  on  the  very  point  of  thankfully  accepting 
the  tempting  offer,  when  Mrs.  Belknap's  words  arrested  him.  Clear 
and  cutting,  but  still  so  low  that  none  but  he  could  hear,  she 
spoke : 

"  Take  ray  word  for  it,  you  are  not  wanted, — nor  any  other  man, — 
when  Dr.  Quin  is  with  her." 

Perry's  hesitation  vanished.  "  Thank  you,  colonel.  I  believe  I 
don't  care  to  go,"  he  answered,  and,  raising  his  cap  to  the  ladies,  turned 
on  his  heel  and  hurried  to  his  quarters.  Mrs.  Belknap  stood  watching 
him  one  moment,  then  calmly  rejoined  the  party  at  the  gate,^ 

''  Well,"  said  she,  with  the  languid  drawl  that  her  regimental  asso- 
ciates had  learned  to  know  so  well,  "  this  has  been  a  day  of  surprises, 
has  it  not?  Only  fancy  our  having  a  beautiful  English  heiress  here 
within  reach  and  never  knowing  it  until  to-day !" 

"But  you  had  a  surprise  of  your  own,  had  you  not?"  interposed 
Mrs.  Sprague,  who  was  still  chafing  over  the  fact  that  her  lovely  and 
dangerous  neighbor  should  have  so  monopolized  the  guest  she  con- 
sidered hers  by  prior  right,  and  who  meant  to  remind  her  thus  publicly 
of  the  neglect  of  which  she  had  been  guilty. 

"  Mrs.  Page,  you  mean  ?"  responded  Mrs.  Belknap,  with  the  same 
languid,  imperturbable  manner.  "  Yes, — poor  Jennie  !  She  is  always 
utterly  used  up  after  one  of  those  long  ambulance-journeys,  and  can 
only  take  a  cup  of  tea  and  go  to  bed  in  a  darkened  room.  All  she 
wants  is  to  be  let  alone,  she  says,  until  she  gets  over  it.  I  suppose  she 
will  sleep  till  tattoo  and  then  be  up  for  half  the  night.  You'll  all 
come  in  and  see  her,  wonH  yon  ?     Au  revoir." 

And  so,  calmly  and  gracefully  and  victoriously,  the  dark-eyed  dame 
withdrew,  leaving  her  honest-hearted  antagonist  only  the  sense  of  ex- 
asperation and  defeat. 

It  was  full  quarter  of  an  hour  after  parade,  and  darkness  was  set- 
tling down  on  the  garrison,  when  Captain  T^awrence's  orderly  tapped 
at  the  door  of  Mr.  Perry's  quarters,  and,  being  bidden  ''  Come  in," 
pushed  on   to  the  sitting-room,  where   lie   found   that  young  ofiicer 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  833 

plunged  deep  iu  an  easy-chair  in  front  of  the  fireplace,  his  attitude  one 
of  profound  dejection. 

"  Beg  pardon,  lieutenant,"  said  the  man,  "  but  Mrs.  Lawrence  and 
the  captain's  waitin'  dinner  for  you." 

XV. 

Two  days  passed  without  event  of  any  kind.  Socially  speaking, 
the  garrison  was  enlivened  by  the  advent  of  Mrs.  Page,  and  everybody 
flocked  to  the  Belknaps'  quarters  in  order  to  do  her  proper  homage. 
When  Perry  called  he  asked  Parke  to  go  with  him,  and,  when  the 
latter  seemed  ready  to  leave,  the  former,  disregarding  a  very  palpable 
hint  from  the  lady  of  the  house,  picked  up  his  forage-cap  and  went 
likewise.  For  two  days  the  one  subject  under  constant  discussion  at 
the  post  was  the  event  of  Miss  Maitlaud's  sudden  appearance,  her 
perilous  run,  and  her  daring  and  skilful  rescue.  Everybody  maintained 
that  Perry  ought  to  be  a  very  proud  and  happy  fellow  to  have  been  the 
hero  of  such  an  occasion  ;  but  it  was  very  plain  that  Perry  was  neither 
proud  nor  anything  like  happy.  No  one  had  ever  known  him  so  silent 
and  cast  down.  The  talk  with  Lawrence  had  helped  matters  very 
little. 

In  brief,  this  was  about  all  the  captain  could  tell  him,  and  it  was 
all  hearsay  evidence  at  best.  The  officers  of  the  Eleveutli  and  their 
ladies  had,  with  a  few  exceptions,  taken  a  dislike  to  Dr.  Quin  before 
Belknap  and  Lawrence  with  their  companies  of  infantry  had  been 
ordered  to  Fort  Rossiter.  The  feeling  was  in  full  blast  wlien  they  ar- 
rived, and  during  the  six  or  eight  months  they  served  there  together 
the  infantry  people  heard  only  one  side  of  the  story, — that  of  the 
Eleventh, — for  the  doctor  never  condescended  to  discuss  the  matter. 
After  he  was  forbidden  to  leave  the  post  by  his  commanding  officer, 
and  after  the  announcement  of  the  "  blockade"  of  Dunraveu,  it  was 
observed  that  signals  were  sometimes  made  from  the  ranch  at  night : 
a  strong  light  thrown  from  a  reflector  was  flashed  three  times  and  then 
withdrawn.  Next  it  was  noted,  by  an  enterprising  member  of  the 
guard,  that  these  signals  were  answered  by  a  light  in  the  doctor's 
windows,  then  that  he  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  away  down  the  valley 
of  the  Monee.  He  was  always  back  at  sick-call ;  and,  if  any  one  told 
the  commanding  officer  of  his  disobedience  of  orders,  it  was  not  done 
until  so  near  the  departure  of  the  Eleventh  that  the  doctor  was,  not 
afterwards  actually  caught  in  the  act.  Things  would  undoubtedly  have 
been  brought  to  a  crisis  had  tiie  Eleventh  been  allowed  to  remain. 

Now  as  to  the  story  about  Mrs.  Quin  and  her  going.  It  was 
observed  during  the  winter  that  she  was  looking  very  badly,  and  the 
story  went  the  rounds  in  the  Eleventh  that  she  was  stung  and  suflering 
because  of  her  husband's  conduct.  Unquestionably  there  was  some 
fair  enchantress  at  Dunraven  who  lured  him  from  his  own  fireside. 
She  had  no  intimates  among  the  ladies.  She  was  proud  and  silent.  It 
did  not  seem  to  occur  to  them  that  she  was  resentful  of  their  dislike  of 
her  husband.  They  were  sure  she  was  "  pining"  because  of  his  neglect 
— or  worse.     When,  therefore,  without  word  of  warning,  she  suddenly 


834  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

took  her  departure  iu  the  spriug,  there  was  a  gasp  of  gossip-loving 
cronies  in  the  garrison :  all  doubts  were  at  an  end :  she  had  left  him 
and  taken  her  children  with  her. 

"  The  more  I  think  of  it,"  said  Lawrence,  "  the  more  I  believe  the 
whole  thing  capable  of  explanation.  The  only  thing  that  puzzles  me 
now  is  that  Quin  hides  anything  from  your  colonel,  who  is  one  of  the 
most  courteous  and  considerate  men  I  ever  served  with.  Perhaps  he 
has  told  him,  by  this  time :  we  don't  know.  Perhaps  he  thought  he 
might  be  of  the  same  stamp  as  his  predecessor,  and  was  waiting  to  find 
out  before  he  made  his  confidences.  As  to  Mrs.  Quin's  going  away 
when  she  did,  it  may  have  been  simply  that  her  health  was  suffering, 
she  needed  change,  and  went  with  his  full  advice  and  by  his  wish,  and 
he  simply  feels  too  much  contempt  for  garrison  gossip  to  explain.  Very 
probably  he  knows  nothing  of  the  stories  and  theories  in  circulation : 
I'm  sure  I  did  not  until  a  very  few  weeks  ago.  You  know.  Perry, 
there  are  some  men  in  garrison  who  hear  and  know  everything,  and 
others  who  never  hear  a  word  of  scandal." 

But  Perry  was  low  in  his  mind.  He  could  not  forget  Quin's  sudden 
appearance, — his  calling  her  Gladys ;  and  then  he  hated  the  thought 
that  it  was  Quin  who  saw  him  having  that  confounded  tender  inter- 
view with  Mrs.  Belknap.  Was  there  ever  such  a  streak  of  ill  luck  as 
that  ?  No  doubt  the  fellow  had  told  her  all  about  it !  Perry  left  Law- 
rence's that  night  very  little  comforted,  and  only  one  gleam  of  hope 
did  he  receive  in  the  two  days  that  followed.  Mrs.  Sprague  joyfully 
beckoned  to  him  on  Wednesday  afternoon  to  read  him  a  little  note  that 
had  just  come  from  Miss  Maitland.  Her  father  had  been  very  ill,  she 
wrote ;  his  condition  was  still  critical ;  but  she  sent  a  world  of  thanks 
to  her  kind  entertainers  at  Rossiter,  and  these  words  :  "  I  was  sorry 
not  to  be  able  to  see  Mr.  Perry  again.  Do  not  let  him  think  I  have 
forgotten,  or  will  be  likely  to  forget,  the  service  he — and  Nolan — did 
me." 

Of  Dr.  Quin  he  saw  very  little.  With  the  full  consent  and 
knowledge  of  Colonel  Brainard,  the  doctor  was  spending  a  good  deal 
of  time  at  Dunraven  now,  attending  to  Mr.  Maitland.  Indeed,  there 
seemed  to  be  an  excellent  understanding  between  the  commandant  and 
his  medical  ofiicer,  and  it  was  known  that  they  had  had  a  long  talk 
together.  Upper  circles  in  the  garrison  were  still  agitated  with  chat 
and  conjecture  about  Gladys  Maitland  and  her  strange  father;  Perry 
was  still  tortured  with  questions  about  his  one  visit  to  Dunraven  when- 
ever he  was  so  incautious  as  to  appear  in  public ;  but  all  through  "  the 
quarters,"  everywhere  among  the  rank  and  file,  there  was  a  subject  that 
engrossed  all  thoughts  and  tongues,  and  that  was  discussed  with  feeling 
that  seemed  to  deepen  with  every  day, — the  approaching  court-martial 
of  Sergeant  Leary  and  of  Trooper  Kelly. 

As  a  result  of  his  investigation,  Captain  Stryker  had  preferred 
charges  against  these  two  men, — the  one  for  leading  and  the  other  for 
being  accessory  to  the  assault  on  his  stable-sergeant.  Gwynne  was  still 
at  the  hospital,  though  rapidly  recovering  from  his  injuries.  Not  a 
word  had  he  said  that  would  im])licate  or  accuse  any  man  ;  but  Stryker's 
knowledge  of  his  soldiers,  and  his  clear  insight  into  human  motive  and 


DUN  RAVEN  RANCH.  8e35 

xjharacter,  were  such  that  he  had  readily  made  up  his  mind  as  to  the 
facts  in  the  case.  He  felt  sure  that  Leary  and  some  of  the  Celtic 
members  of  his  company  had  determined  to  go  down  to  Dunraven  and 
"  have  it  out"  with  the  hated  Britons  who  had  so  affronted  and  abused 
them  the  night  of  Perry's  visit.  They  knew  they  could  not  get  their 
horses  by  fair  means,  for  Gwynne  was  above  suspicion.  He  was 
English,  too,  and  striving  to  shield  his  countrymen  from  the  threatened 
vengeance.  They  therefore  determined,  in  collusion  with  Kelly,  to 
lure  him  outside  the  stables,  bind  and  gag  him,  get  their  horses,  having 
once  rifled  Gwynne  of  the  keys,  ride  down  to  the  ranch,  and,  after 
having  a  Donnybrook  Fair  on  the  premises,  get  back  to  Rossiter  in 
plenty  of  time  for  reveille  and  stables.  No  sentries  were  posted  in 
such  a  way  as  to  interfere  with  them,  and  the  plan  was  feasible  enough 
but  for  one  thing.  Gwynne  had  made  most  gallant  and  spirited  resist- 
ance, had  fought  the  whole  gang  like  a  tiger,  and  they  had  been  unable 
to  overpower  him  before  the  noise  had  attracted  the  attention  of  the 
sergeant  of  the  guard  and  some  of  the  men  in  quarters.  An  effort, 
of  course,  was  made  to  show  that  the  assaulting  party  were  from  with- 
out, but  it  was  futile,  and  Stryker's  keen  cross-questioning  among  the 
men  had  convinced  them  that  he  knew  all  about  the  matter.  There 
was  only  one  conclusion,  therefore, — that  Gwynne  must  have  "  given 
them  away,"  as  the  troopers  expressed  it.  Despite  the  fact  that  he  had 
been  assaulted  and  badly  beaten,  this  was  something  that  few  could  over- 
look, and  the  latent  jealousy  against  the  '^  cockney  sergeant"  blazed 
into  a  feeling  of  deep  resentment.  Garrison  sympathy  was  with  Leary 
and  his  fellows :  they  had  simply  done  their  best  to  wipe  out  a  brutal 
insult  to  their  officer  and  their  regiment,  and  they  would  have  succeeded, 
too,  but  for  the  interference  and  stubborn  resistance  of  this  bumptious 
Englishman.  It  arrayed  all  the  rank  and  file  of  the  — th  for  the  de- 
fence, and  there  was  every  prospect  that  when  the  court  convened — and 
they  well  knew  it  would  be  ordered — there  would  be  some  "  tall  swear- 
ing." 

Thursday  came,  and  Sergeant  Gwynne  returned  to  light  duty, 
though  his  face  was  still  bruised  and  discolored  and  he  wore  a  patch 
over  one  eye.  He  resumed  charge  of  the  stables  in  the  afternoon,  after 
a  brief  conversation  with  his  captain,  and  was  superintending  the  issue 
of  forage,  when  Perry  entered  to  inspect  the  stalls  of  his  platoon. 
Nolan  was  being  led  out  by  his  groom  at  the  moment,  and  pricked  up 
his  tapering  ears  at  sight  of  his  master  and  thrust  his  lean  muzzle  to 
receive  the  caress  of  the  hand  he  knew  so  well.  Perry  stopped  him 
and  carefully  and  critically  examined  his  knees,  feeling  down  to  the 
fetlocks  with  searching  fingers  for  the  faintest  symptom  of  knot  or 
swelling  in  the  tendons  that  had  played  their  part  so  thoroughly  in  the 
drama  of  Monday.  Satisfied,  apparently,  he  rose  and  bestowed  a  few 
hearty  pats  on  the  glossy  neck  and  shoulder,  and  then  was  surprised  to 
find  the  stable-sergeant  standing  close  beside  him  and  regarding  both 
him  and  the  horse  with  an  expression  that  arrested  Perry's  attention 
at  once. 

"Feeling  all  right  again,  sergeant?"  he  asked,  thinking  to  recall 
the  non-commissioned  officer  to  his  senses. 


836  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

"  Almost,  sir.  I'm  a  trifle  stiff  yet.  Anything  wrong  with  Nolan, 
sir?" 

"  Nothing.  I  gave  him  rather  a  tough  run  the  other  day, — had  to 
risk  the  prairie-dog  holes, — and,  though  I  felt  no  jar  then,  I've  watched 
carefully  ever  since  to  see  that  he  was  not  wrenched.  I  wish  you  would 
keep  an  eye  on  him  too,  will  you?" 

There  was  no  answer.  Perry  had  been  looking  over  Nolan's 
haunches  as  he  spoke,  and  once  more  turned  to  the  sergeant.  To  his 
astonishment,  Gwyune's  lips  were  twitching  and  quivering,  his  hands, 
ordinarily  held  in  the  rigid  pose  of  the  English  service, — extended 
along  the  thigh, — were  clinching  and  working  nervously,  and  some- 
thing suspiciously  like  a  tear  was  creeping  out  from  under  the  patch. 
Before  Perry  could  recover  from  his  surprise,  the  sergeant  suddenly 
regained  his  self-control,  hastily  raised  his  hand  in  salute,  saying  some- 
thing half  articulate  in  reply,  and  turned  sharply  away,  leaving  his 
lieutenant  gazing  after  him  in  much  perplexity. 

That  night,  just  after  tattoo  roll-call,  when  a  little  group  of  officers 
was  gathered  at  the  colonel's  gate,  they  were  suddenly  joined  by  Dr. 
Quin,  who  came  from  the  direction  of  the  stable  where  he  kept  his 
horse  in  rear  of  his  own  quarters.  Colonel  Brainard  greeted  him 
warmly  and  inquired  after  his  patient  at  Dunraven.  Every  one  noted 
how  grave  and  subdued  was  the  tone  in  which  the  doctor  answered, — 

"  He  is  a  very  sick  man,  colonel,  and  it  is  hard  to  say  what  will  be 
the  result  of  this  seizure." 

"  You  may  want  to  go  down  again,  doctor,  if  that  be  the  case, — 
before  sick-call  to-morrow,  I  mean  ;  and  you  had  better  take  one  of 
my  horses.     I'll  tell  my  man  to  have  one  in  readiness." 

"  You  are  very  kind,  sir.  I  think  old  Brian  will  do  all  the  work 
needed.  But  I  would  like  to  go  down  at  reveille,  as  we  have  no  men 
in  hospital  at  all  now.     And,  by  the  way,  is  Mr.  Perry  here?" 

"I  am  here,"  answered  Perry,  coldly.  He  was  leaning  against  the 
railing,  rather  away  from  the  group,  listening  intently,  yet  unwilling 
to  meet  or  hold  conversation  with  the  man  he  conceived  to  be  so  inim- 
ical to  his  every  hope  and  interest. 

"  Mr.  Perry,"  said  the  doctor,  pleasantly,  and  utterly  ignoring  the 
coldness  of  the  young  fellow's  manner,  "  Mr.  Maitland  has  asked  to  see 
you  ;  and  it  would  gratify  him  if  you  would  ride  down  in  the  morning." 

Even  in  the  darkness  Perry  feared  that  all  would  see  the  flush  that 
leaped  to  his  face.  Summoned  to  Dunraven  Ranch,  by  her  father,  with 
a  possibility  of  seeing  her!  It  was  almost  too  sweet!  too  thrilling! 
He  could  give  no  reply  for  a  moment,  and  an  awkward  silence  fell  on 
the  group  until  he  chokingly  answered,  "  I  shall  be  glad  to  go.  AVhat 
time  ?" 

"  Better  ride  down  early.  Never  mind  breakfast.  Miss  Maitland 
will  be  glad  to  give  you  a  cup  of  coffee,  I  fancy." 

And  Perry  felt  as  though  the  fence  had  taken  to  waltzing.  He 
made  no  answer,  striving  to  regain  his  composure,  and  then  the  talk 
went  on.     It  was  Stryker  who  was  speaking  now  : 

"  Has  the  ring  been  found,  doctor  ?" 

"  No !     That  is  a  most  singular  thing,  and  one  that  worries  the  old 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  837 

gentleman  a  great  deal.  It  had  a  history :  it  belonged  to  Mrs.  Mait- 
land's  father,  who  was  from  Ireland, — indeed,  Ireland  was  her  country, 
as  it  was  my  father's, — and  that  ring  she  had  reset  for  her  son  Archie 
and  gave  it  to  him  when  he  entered  service  with  the  Lancers.  It  was 
sent  home  with  his  watch  and  other  property  from  South  Africa, — for 
he  died  there, — and  old  Maitland  always  wore  it  afterwards.  Archie 
was  the  last  of  three  sous ;  and  it  broke  his  heart." 

"And  the  ring  was  lost  the  night  of  Perry's  adventure  there?" 
asked  the  colonel. 

"  Yes.  Mr.  Perry  remembers  having  seen  it  on  his  hand  when  the 
old  gentleman  first  came  down  to  receive  him.  It  was  missed  after- 
wards, and  could  easily  have  slipped  off  at  any  time,  for  his  fingers 
were  withered  with  age  and  ill  health.  They  have  searched  everywhere, 
and  could  find  nothing  of  it.  It  could  easily  have  rolled  off  the 
veranda  on  to  the  grass  during  his  excitement  at  the  time  of  the  row, 
and  somebody  may  have  picked  it  up, — either  among  the  ranchmen  or 
among  the  troopers." 

"  I  hate  to  tliink  that  any  of  our  men  would  take  it,"  said  the 
colonel,  after  a  pause. 

"  I  do  not  think  any  of  them  would,  with  the  idea  of  selling  it," 
said  Stryker ;  "  but  here  is  a  case  where  it  was  picked  up,  possibly,  as 
one  of  the  spoils  of  war.  I  have  had  inquiry  made  throughout  the 
troop,  but  with  no  result  so  far.  Do  vou  go  down  again  to-night, 
doctor?" 

"  Not  if  -I  can  avoid  it.  I  am  going  now  to  try  and  sleep,  and  will 
not  ride  down  till  daybreak  unless  signalled  for.  Good-night,  colonel ; 
good-night,  all." 

Unless  signalled  for  !  Instinctively  Perry  edged  closer  to  Lawrence, 
who  had  stood  a  silent  listener  to  the  conversation,  and  Lawrence  turned 
and  saw  him  and  knew  the  thought  that  must  be  uppermost  in  his 
mind.  Others,  too,  were  doubtless  struck  by  the  doctor's  closing  words, 
and  were  pondering  over  their  full  significance.  There  was  a  moment 
of  perfect  silence,  and  then  Lawrence  spoke : 

"  Does  anybody  know  what  the  signal  is  ?" 

"Certainly,"  said  Colonel  Brainard,  promptly.  "He  has  explained 
the  whole  thing  to  me.  Those  were  signals  for  him  that  we  saw  the 
night  you  were  all  on  my  gallery.  It  was  an  arrangement  devised  by 
their  old  nurse, — she  who  came  up  with  the  carriage  for  Miss  Maitland 
the  other  day.  She  had  a  regular  old-fashioned  head-light  and  reflector, 
and,  when  Mr.  Maitland  was  so  ill  as  to  need  a  doctor,  used  to  notify 
Quin  in  that  way.  He  sometimes  failed  to  see  it,  and  I  have  given 
orders  to-day  that  the  guard  should  wake  him  when  it  is  seen  here- 
after." 

"  Then  that  was  what  those  mysterious  night  lights  meant  that 
we  have  heard  so  much  about  during  the  last  three  weeks?"  asked 
Mr.  Dana. 

"  Certainly,"  answered  Brainard.  "  What  on  earth  did  anybody 
suppose  they  meant  ?" 

To  this  there  was  no  response  for  a  moment.  Then  Lawrence  burst 
out  laughing. 


838  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

XVI. 

Late  that  night  Mr.  Perry  left  his  quarters  and  strolled  out  on  the 
walk  that  bounded  the  parade.  He  could  not  sleep  ;  he  was  feverishly- 
impatient  for  the  coming  of  another  day,  that  he  might  start  forth  on 
his  ride  to  Dunraven.  Few  as  were  the  words  in  which  Dr.  Quin  had 
conveyed  the  message  of  invitation,  they  were  sujfficient  to  set  his  heart 
athrob  and  his  pulses  bounding  with  eagerness  and  delight.  Then,  too, 
the  annihilation  of  one  portion,  at  least,  of  the  "  mystery"  that  sur- 
rounded the  doctor's  night  visits  to  Dunraven,  the  utterly  matter-of- 
fact  way  in  which  the  colonel  had  shattered  that  story  by  his  announce- 
ment, and  the  kind  and  friendly  tone  in  which  the  doctor  had  spoken 
to  him,  all  had  served  to  bring  about  a  revulsion  of  feeling  and  to 
remove  a  great  portion  of  the  weight  of  suspicion  and  dread  with  which 
he  had  been  burdened.  He  and  Lawrence  had  walked  home  together, 
the  captain  ever  and  anon  bursting  into  renewed  peals  of  laughter  over 
the  utterly  absurd  denouement  so  recently  presented  to  their  view.  The 
colonel  and  the  officers  with  him  had,  of  course,  asked  the  cause  of  his 
sudden  and  apparently  unaccountable  merriment,  and,  when  he  could 
sufficiently  control  himself,  Lawrence  had  begged  the  indulgence  of  his 
post  commander,  saying  it  involved  a  long  story, — a  garrison  yarn,  in 
fact, — and  one  he  could  hardly  retail  just  then ;  but,  said  he,  "  it  re- 
minds me  of  something  we  studied  in  our  school-boy  days, — ' parturiunt 
monies/  and  ^  Tiascitur  ridiculus  musJ  Of  course  I'll  feel  bound  to  tell 
you  the  facts,  colonel,  but  I  want  to  ask  a  question  or  two  first.  The 
story  is  a  relic  of  your  predecessor's,  sir,  and,  if  I  haven't  got  a  big 
joke  on  the  Eleventh,  may  I  be  transferred  to  them  forthwith."  And 
the  captain's  laughter  broke  forth  again. 

But  he  was  in  more  serious  mood  when  he  reached  his  gate  and 
turned  to  say  good-night  to  Perry  : 

"  It  all  goes  to  show  what  infernal  gossip  can  spring  up  out  of  next 
to  nothing.  Perry,  and  I  hope  you'll  try  and  forget  that  Mrs.  Lawrence's 
curiosity  or  womanly  weakness  got  the  better  of  her  that  night  at  the 
colonel's.  It  will  be  a  lesson  to  her, — if  people  ever  do  profit  by  lessons 
in  such  matters,"  he  added,  with  rather  a  rueful  smile. 

And  then,  though  he  had  gone  home  with  lighter  heart  and  ashamed 
of  his  jealous  suspicions.  Perry  could  not  sleep.  There  were  still  some 
things  in  Quin's  relations  with  the  Maitlands  that  required  explanation 
and  that  gave  him  cause  for  painful  reflection.  The  morrow  might  un- 
ravel it  all  and  give  him  glad  relief  from  every  dread ;  but  would  the 
morrow  never  come  ? 

He  heard  the  sentries  at  the  storehouses  calling  half-past  eleven, 
and,  throwing  aside  his  pipe,  he  impulsively  hurried  out  into  the  open 
air.  A  "  spin"  around  the  parade  or  out  on  the  starlit  prairie  might 
soothe  his  nerves  and  enable  him  to  sleep. 

All  lights  were  out  in  the  quadrangle,  save  those  at  the  guard-house. 
Even  at  Belknap's  quarters,  where  the  veranda  had  been  thronged  with 
officers  and  ladies  only  an  hour  before,  all  was  now  silence  and  dark- 
ness. Unwilling  to  attract  attention  by  tramping  up  and  down  on  the 
board  walk,  he  crossed  the  road  and  went  out  on  the  broad  level  of  the 


DVNRAVEN  RANCH.  839 

parade,  but  took  care  so  to  direct  his  steps  as  not  to  come  within  hailing- 
distance  of  the  guard-house.  It  would  be  awkward  work  explaining  the 
situation  to  the  sergeant  of  the  guard  in  case  the  sentry  were  to  see  or 
hear  and  challenge  him.  Then,  too,  Graham  was  officer  of  the  guard, 
and  Graham  would  be  sure  to  chaff  him  mercilessly  at  the  mess-table 
about  this  entirely  new  trait  of  night-prowling.  Giving  heed  to  all 
this,  he  edged  well  over  to  his  left  as  he  walked,  and  so  it  happened 
that  he  found  himself,  after  a  while,  opposite  the  northeast  entrance  to 
the  post,  and  close  to  the  road  on  which  stood  the  commissary  and 
quartermaster  storehouses.  There  was  a  sentry  posted  here,  too,  and  it 
would  not  do  to  be  challenged  by  him,  any  more  than  by  "  Number 
One." 

Stopping  a  moment  to  listen  for  the  sentry's  foot-fall.  Perry's  ear 
was  attracted  by  the  sound  of  a  door  slowly  and  cautiously  opened.  It 
was  some  little  time  before  he  could  tell  from  which  one  of  the  neighbor- 
ing buildings,  looming  there  in  the  darkness,  the  sound  proceeded.  Then 
he  heard  muffled  footsteps  and  a  whispered  consultation  not  far  away, 
and,  hurrying  on  tiptoe  in  the  direction  of  the  sound,  he  presently 
caught  sight  of  two  or  three  dim,  shadowy  forms  moving  noiselessly 
along  the  porch  of  the  company  quarters  nearest  him.  Stryker's  troop 
— that  to  which  he  belonged — was  quartered  down  beyond  the  guard- 
house on  the  lower  side  of  the  parade ;  these  forms  were  issuing  from 
the  barracks  of  Captain  Wayne's  troop,  and  before  Perry  could  realize 
the  fact  that  they  were  out,  either  in  moccasins  or  their  stocking-feet, 
and  presumably,  therefore,  on  some  unlawful  enterprise,  they  had  dis- 
appeared around  the  corner  of  the  building.  He  walked  rapidly  thither, 
turned  the  corner,  and  they  wei'e  nowhere  in  sight  or  hearing.  Stop- 
ping to  listen  did  not  help  matters  at  all.  He  could  not  hear  a  sound ; 
and  as  for  the  shadows  of  which  he  was  in  pursuit,  it  was  simply  im- 
possible to  tell  which  direction  they  had  taken.  They  had  vanished 
from  the  face  of  the  earth,  and  were  lost  in  the  deeper  gloom  that  hung 
about  the  scattered  array  of  wooden  buildings — storehouses,  fuel-sheds, 
and  cook-sheds — at  the  rear  of  the  post. 

Had  it  been  his  own  troop  he  could  have  roused  the  first  sergeant 
and  ordered  a  "  check"  roll-call  as  jfmeans  of  determining  at  once  who 
the  night-prowlers  might  be ;  but  Captain  Wayne  had  his  peculiarities, 
and  one  of  them  was  an  unalterable  and  deeply-rooted  objection  to  any 
interference  on  the  part  of  other  officers  in  the  management  of  his  men. 
Perry's  first  thought,  too,  was  of  the  stables  and  Sergeant  Gwyune. 
Were  they  meditating  another  foray,  and  had  the  feeling  spread  outside 
their  own  company  ?  No  time  was  to  be  lost.  He  turned  his  face  east- 
ward to  where  the  dark  outlines  of  the  stables  could  be  dimly  traced 
against  the  sky,  and  hastened,  stumbling  at  times  over  stray  tin  cans 
and  other  discarded  rubbish,  until  he  crossed  the  intervening  swale  and 
reached  the  low  bluft'  along  which  the  crude,  unpainted  structures  were 
ranged.  All  was  darkness  here  towards  the  northern  end,  and  the  one 
sentry  who  had  external  charge  of  the  entire  line  was  slowly  pacing  his 
post :  Perry  could  see  his  form,  dimly  outlined,  as  he  breasted  the  slope, 
and  it  determined  him  to  keep  on  in  the  hollow  until  he  got  to  a  point 
opposite  the  stables  of  his  own  troop.     If  there  was  to  be  any  devil- 


840  DUNRAVEN  RANCH.     . 

ment  it  might  be  well  to  see  whether  this  soldier,  too,  would  turn  out 
to  be  in  league  with  the  conspirators.  Listening  intently  as  he  hurried 
along,  but  hearing  nothing.  Perry  soon  found  himself  at  the  pathway 
leading  to  his  own  domain,  and  the  next  minute  was  gazing  in  surprise 
at  a  light  burning  dimly  in  the  window  of  the  little  room  occupied  by 
Sergeant  Gwynne :  there  was  not  a  glimmer  elsewhere  along  the  line. 

Striding  up  to  the  window,  he  tapped  lightly,  and  Gwynne's  voice 
sternly  challenged  from  within,  "  Who's  there?" 

"  Lieutenant  Perry,  sergeant.  Come  around  and  open  the  stable 
door  for  me." 

"  One  moment,  sir,"  was  the  answer,  and  he  heard  the  sergeant 
bounding,  apparently,  off  his  bed.  Then  a  hand  drew  aside  the  shade, 
and  Gwynne's  face  appeared  at  the  window,  while  a  small  lantern  was 
held  so  as  to  throw  its  rays  on  the  face  without,  "  All  right,  sir,"  he 
continued.     "  I  thought  I  could  not  be  deceived  in  the  voice." 

Perry  walked  around  to  the  front  again,  taking  another  survey  of 
the  sleeping  garrison  as  he  did  so,  and  listening  once  more  for  footsteps  ; 
but  all  was  still.  Presently  the  little  panel  in  the  big  door  was  un- 
locked from  within,  and  the  lieutenant  bent  low  and  entered,  finding 
Gwynne,  lantern  in  hand,  standing  in  his  uncompromising  attitude  of 
"  attention"  at  the  entrance. 

"  Everything  been  quiet  here  to-night  ?"  he  asked,  as  he  straightened 
up. 

"  Perfectly  so,  sir." 

"  Come  into  your  room  a  moment ;  I  want  to  speak  to  you,"  said 
Perry,  after  a  moment's  refllection. 

They  passed  along  the  broad  gangway  between  the  rows  of  sleepy 
horses,  some  lying  down  in  their  stalls,  others  still  afoot  and  munching 
at  their  hay.  The  stable-guard  stood  at  his  post  and  faced  them  as 
they  turned  into  the  dark  and  narrow  passage  leading  into  Gwynne's 
little  sanctuary.  The  lamps  along  the  line  of  stalls  burned  low  and 
dim,  and,  the  ports  being  lowered,  gave  no  gleam  without  the  walls. 
Once  more,  however,  a  bright  light  shone  from  the  window  of  the 
stable-sergeant's  room, — brighter  than  before,  could  they  only  know  it, 
for  this  time  there  was  no  intervening  shade.  After  his  brief  inspection 
of  the  lieutenant's  face,  Gwynne  had  left  it  drawn. 

The  sergeant  set  his  lantern  on  a  wooden  desk,  and  respectfully 
waited  for  his  superior  to  speak.  Perry  looked  him  well  over  a  moment, 
and  then  began  : 

"  Did  you  tell  Captain  Stryker  the  particulars  of  your  rough  treat- 
ment down  there  at  the  ranch  ?" 

"  The  rough  treatment, — yes,  sir." 

"  Would  you  mind  telling  me  where  you  were  taken  ? — where  you 
saw  Dr.  Quin  ?" 

The  sergeant  hesitated  one  moment,  a  troubled  look  on  his  face. 
His  one  available  eye  studied  his  lieutenant's  features  attentively. 
Something  in  the  frank,  kind  blue  eyes — possibly  some  sudden  recol- 
lection, too — seemed  to  reassure  him. 

"  It  was  to  Mr.  Cowan's  little  house,  sir.  He  interposed  to  save 
me  from  a  worse  beating  at  the  hands  of  three  brutes  who  were  em- 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  841 

ployed  there  and  had  some  grudge  against  this  garrison  of  which  I  was 
ignorant.  They  attacked  me  without  a  word  of  warning.  It  was  he, 
too,  who  called  in  Dr.  Quin." 

'*  Have  you — did  you  see  any  of  the  people  at  Dunraven  besides 
this  young  man?" 

*'  I  saw  his  mother,  sir.  She  is  a  nurse  there,  and  has  been  in  the 
family  for  years,  I  am  told." 

Perry  was  silent  a  moment.     Then  he  spoke  again  : 

"  Have  you  heard  any  further  tlireats  among  the  men  here  since  the 
arrest  of  Sergeant  Leary  ?" 

Gwynne  hesitated,  coloring  painfully  : 

"  It  is  something  I  hate  to  speak  of,  sir.  The  talk  has  not  alarmed 
me  in  the  least." 

''  I  know  that,  sergeant.  All  the  same  we  want  to  prevent  a  recur- 
rence of  that  performance ;  and  it  was  that,  mainly,  that  brought  me 
over  here.  I  saw  some  men  stealing  out  of  M  Troop's  quarters  awhile 
ago,  and  lost  them  in  the  darkness.  I  thought  they  might  be  coming 
over  here,  and — got  here  first." 

Gwynne's  face  lighted  up.  It  touched  him  to  know  his  officers 
were  on  the  lookout  for  his  safety. 

"  I  have  heard  nothing,  sir.  The  men  would  hardly  be  apt  to 
speak  to  me  on  the  subject,  since  the  affair  of  the  other  night.  What 
I  fear  is  simply  this, — that  there  is  an  element  here  in  the  regiment 
that  is  determined  to  get  down  there  to  the  ranch  and  have  satisfaction 
for  the  assault  that  was  made  on  you  and  your  party.  They  need 
horses  in  order  to  get  there  and  back  between  midnight  and  reveille, 
and  are  doubtless  hatching  some  plan.  They  failed  here ;  now  they 
may  try  the  stables  of  some  other  troop,  or  the  quartermaster's.  Shall 
I  warn  the  sentry  that  there  are  prowlers  out  to-night  ?" 

"  Not  yet.  They  will  hardly  make  the  attempt  while  your  light  is 
burning  here.  What  I'm  concerned  about  just  now  is  this :  we  all 
know  that  there  is  deep  sympathy  for  Leary  in  the  command,  and  it  is 
not  improbable  that  among  the  Irishmen  there  is  corresponding  feeling 
against  you.  I  don't  like  your  being  here  alone  just  now ;  for  they 
know  you  are  almost  the  only  wntness  against  him." 

"  I  have  thought  of  that,  sir,"  answered  Gwynne,  gravely,  "  but  I 
want  nothing  that  looks  like  protection.  The  captain  has  spoken  of 
the  matter  to  me,  and  he  agreed,  sir,  that  it  would  do  more  harm  than 
good.  There  is  one  thing  I  would  ask, — if  I  may  trouble  the  lieu- 
tenant." 

"  What  is  it,  sergeant  ?" 

"  I  have  a  little  packet,  containing  some  papers  and  a  trinket  or 
two,  that  I  would  like  very  much  to  have  kept  safely,  and,  if  anything 
should  happen  to  me,  to  have  you,  sir,  and  Captain  Stryker  open  it, 
and — the  letters  there  will  explain  everything  that  is  to  be  done." 

"  Certainly.     I  will  take  care  of  it  for  you, — if  not  too  valuable." 

"  I  would  rather  know  it  was  with  you,  sir,  than  stow  it  in  the 
quartermaster's  safe,"  was  Gwynne's  answer,  as  he  opened  a  little  wooden 
chest  at  the  foot  of  his  bunk,  and,  after  rummaging  a  moment,  drew 
forth  a  parcel  tied  and  sealed.     This  he  handed  to  the  lieutenant. 


842  DVNRAVEN  RANCH. 

"  Now  I  will  go  back  and  notify  the  officer  of  the  guard  of  what  I 
have  seen,"  said  Perry;  "and  I  want  Nolan,  saddled,  over  at  my 
quarters  right  after  morning  stables.     Will  you  see  to  it  ?" 

"  I  will,  sir,  and  thank  you  for  your  kindness." 

All  was  darkness,  all  silence  and  peace,  as  Perry  retraced  his  steps 
and  went  back  to  the  garrison,  carrying  the  little  packet  in  his  hand. 
He  went  direct  to  the  guard-house,  and  found  Mr.  Graham  sulky  over 
being  disturbed  in  his  snooze  by  the  sentry's  challenge. 

"  What  the  devil  are  you  owling  around  this  time  of  night  for  ?" 
was  the  not  unnatural  question.  "  I  thought  it  was  the  officer  of  the 
day,  and  nearly  broke  my  neck  in  hurrying  out  here." 

But  Perry's  brief  recital  of  the  fact  that  he  had  seen  some  men 
stealing  out  of  the  quarters  of  M  Troop  in  their  stocking-feet  or  moc- 
casins put  an  end  to  Graham's  complaints.  Hastily  summoning  the 
sergeant  of  the  guard,  he  started  out  to  make  the  rounds  of  his  sentries, 
while  Perry  carried  his  packet  home,  locked  it  in  his  desk,  and  then 
returned  to  the  veranda  to  await  developments. 

Sergeant  Gwynne,  meantime,  having  lighted  his  young  officer  to 
the  stable  door,  stood  there  a  few  moments,  looking  over  the  silent 
garrison  and  listening  to  the  retreating  footsteps.  '  The  sentry  came 
pacing  along  the  front  of  the  stables,  and  brought  his  carbine  down 
from  the  shoulder  as  he  dimly  sighted  the  tall  figure,  but,  recognizing 
the  stable-sergeant  as  he  came  nearer,  the  ready  challenge  died  on  his 
lips. 

"  I  thought  I  heard  somebody  moving  around  down  here,  sergeant. 
It  was  you,  then,  was  it?" 

"  I  have  been  moving  around, — inside, — but  made  no  noise.  Have 
you  heard  footsteps  or  voices  ?" 

"  Both,  I  thought ;  but  it's  as  black  as  your  hat  on  this  beat  to-night. 
I  can't  see  my  hand  afore  my  face." 

"  Keep  your  ears  open,  then :  there  are  men  out  from  one  of  the 
quarters,  at  least,  and  no  telling  what  they  are  up  to.  Who's  in  charge 
at  the  quartermaster's  stables  ?" 

"  Sergeant  Riley,  of  the  infantry ;  some  of  the  fellers  were  over 
having  a  little  game  with  him  before  tattoo,  and  I  heard  him  tell  'era 
to  come  again  when  they  had  more  money  to  lose.  He  and  his  helper 
there  were  laughing  at  the  way  they  cleaned  out  the  cavalry  when  they 
were  locking  up  at  taps.  The  boys  fetched  over  a  bottle  of  whiskey 
with  'em." 

"Who  were  they?" 

"  Oh,  there  was  Flanagan  and  Murphy,  of  M  Troop,  and  Corporal 
Donovan,  and  one  or  two  others.     They  hadn't  been  drinkin'." 

"  But  Riley  had, — do  you  mean  ?" 

"  He  was  a  little  full ;  not  much." 

"  Well,  look  alive  now.  Wicks.  It's  my  advice  to  you  that  you 
watch  that  end  of  your  post  with  all  your  eyes."  And  with  this  Ser- 
geant Gwynne  turned  back  into  the  stable,  picked  up  his  lantern,  and 
returned  to  the  little  room  in  which  he  slept.  A  current  of  cool  night- 
air,  blowing  in  through  the  open  casement,  attracted  his  attention. 
Odd  !     He  knew  he  had  pulled  aside  the  shade  to  scan  the  features  of 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  843 

the  lieutenant  when  he  tapped  at  the  pane,  but  he  could  not  recall 
having  opened  the  sash.  It  swung  on  a  hinge,  and  was  fastened  by  a 
loosely-fitting  bolt.  Perhaps  the  rising  wind  had  blown  it  in.  He 
set  his  lamp  down  as  before,  closed  the  sash,  and  then  closed  and  locked 
the  lid  of  his  chest.  That,  too,  was  open.  Wicks,  the  sentry,  well  up 
to  the  north  end  of  his  post  and  close  to  the  entrance  of  the  quarter- 
master's corral,  was  bawling,  "  Half-past  twelve  o'clock,  and  a-all's 
well,"  when  the  light  went  out  in  Gwynue's  little  room,  and  all  the 
line  of  stables  was  wrapped  in  darkness. 

Perry  fretted  around  the  veranda  until  one  o'clock,  then  sought  his 
room.  He  was  still  too  excited  to  sleep,  and  it  seemed  an  interminable 
time  before  he  dozed  off.  Then  it  seemed  as  though  he  could  not  have 
been  in  dream-land  five  minutes  before  a  hand  was  laid  upon  his  shoulder, 
shaking  him  vigorously,  and  a  voice  he  well  knew  was  exclaiming,  in 
low  but  forcible  tones, — 

"  Wake,  lieutenant,  wake  !  Every  horse  is  gone  from  the  quarter- 
master's corral.  There  must  be  twenty  men  gone  down  the  valley. 
I've  Nolan  here  for  you  at  the  gate." 

In  ten  minutes  Lieutenant  Perry  and  Sergeant  Gwynne  were  riding 
neck  and  neck  out  over  the  eastern  prairie, — out  towards  the  paling 
orient  stars  and  the  faintly-gleaming  sky, — before  them,  several  miles 
away,  the  dark  and  threatened  walls  of  Dunraven,  behind  them  the  stir 
and  excitement  and  bustle  consequent  upon  a  night  alarm.  The  colonel, 
roused  by  Perry  with  the  news,  had  ordered  the  instant  sounding  of 
the  assembly,  and  the  garrison  was  tumbling  out  for  roll-call. 

XVII. 

At  the  head  of  a  score  of  his  own  men.  Captain  Stryker  rode  forth 
some  fifteen  minutes  later.  His  orders  from  Colonel  Brainard  were  to 
go  to  Dunraven,  and,  if  he  found  the  marauders  there,  to  arrest  the 
entire  party  and  bring  them  back  to  the  post.  From  all  that  could  be 
learned  from  hurried  questioning  of  the  sentries  and  the  dazed,  half- 
drunken  sergeant  at  the  corral,  the  troopers  engaged  in  the  raid  must 
have  selected  a  time  when  the  sentry  was  walking  towards  the  south  end 
of  his  post  to  lift  one  of  their  number  over  the  wall  of  the  enclosure 
in  which  were  kept  the  wagons  and  ambulances.  This  man  had  un- 
barred from  within  the  gate  leading  eastward  to  the  trail  down  which 
the  "  stock"  was  driven  daily  to  water  in  the  Monee.  Riley  admitted 
that  "  the  boys"  had  left  a  bottle  with  him  which  he  and  his  assistant 
had  emptied  before  turning  in,  and  so  it  happened  that,  unheard  and 
unseen,  the  raiders  had  managed  to  slip  out  with  the  dozen  horses  that 
were  kept  there  and  had  also  taken  six  mules  as  "  mounts"  for  those 
who  could  not  find  anything  better.  Eighteen  men,  apparently,  were 
in  the  party,  and  the  sentry  on  Number  Three  heard  hoof-beats  down 
towards  the  valley  about  half-past  two  o'clock,  but  thought  it  was  only 
some  of  the  ponies  belonging  to  the  Cheyenne  scouts.  There  was  one 
comfort, — the  men  had  taken  no  fire-arms  with  them ;  for  a  hurried  in- 
spection of  the  company  quarters  showed  that  the  carbines  were  all  in 
their  racks  and  the  revolvers  in  their  cases.     Some  of  the  men  might 


344  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

have  small-calibre  pistols  of  their  own,  but  the  government  arms  had 
not  been  disturbed.  Half  the  party,  at  least,  must  have  ridden  bare- 
back and  with  only  watering-bridles  for  their  steeds.  They  were  in- 
deed "  spoiling  for  a  fight,"  and  the  result  of  the  roll-call  showed  that 
the  missing  troopers  were  all  Irishmen  and  some  of  the  best  and  most 
popular  men  in  the  command.  Whatever  their  plan,  thought  Stryker, 
as  he  trotted  down  to  the  Monee,  it  was  probably  carried  out  by  this 
time  :  it  was  now  within  a  minute  of  four  o'clock. 

Only  a  mile  out  he  was  overtaken»by  Dr.  Quin,  who  reined  up  an 
instant  to  ask  if  any  one  had  been  sent  ahead.  "  Thank  God  for  that !" 
he  exclaimed,  when  told  that  Perry  and  Sergeant  Gwynne  had  gone  at 
the  first  alarm  ;  then,  striking  spurs  to  his  horse,  pushed  on  at  rapid 
gallop,  while  the  troopers  maintained  their  steady  trot.  A  mile  from 
Dunraven,  in  the  dim  light  of  early  morning  the  captain's  keen  eyes 
caught  sight  of  shadowy  forms  of  mounted  men  on  the  opposite  shore, 
and,  despite  their  efforts  to  escape  on  their  wearied  steeds,  three  of  them 
were  speedily  run  down  and  captured.  One  of  them  was  Corporal 
Donovan,  and  Donovan's  face  was  white  and  his  manner  agitated. 
Bidding  him  ride  alongside  as  they  pushed  ahead  towards  the  ranch, 
Stryker  questioned  him  as  to  what  had  taken  place,  and  the  corporal 
never  sought  to  equivocate  : 

"We've  been  trying  for  several  nights,  sir,  to  get  horses  and  go 
down  and  have  it  out  with  those  blackguards  at  the  ranch.  We  took 
no  arms,  sir,  even  those  of  us  who  had  pistols  of  our  own.  All  we 
asked  was  a  fair  fight,  man  against  man.  They  wouldn't  come  out 
of  their  hole, — they  dasn't  do  it,  sir, — and  then  they  fired  on  us.  We'd 
have  burned  the  roof  over  their  heads,  but  that  Lieutenant  Perry  gal- 
loped in  and  stopped  us.  I  came  away  then,  sir,  and  so  did  most  of  us. 
We  knew  'twas  all  up  when  we  saw  the  lieutenant ;  but  there  was  more 
firing  after  I  left.  This  way,  captain.  Out  across  the  prairie  here.  We 
cut  down  the  fence  on  this  side."  And,  so  saying,  Donovan  led  the 
little  troop  to  a  broad  gap  in  the  wire  barrier,  and  thence  straight  across 
the  fields  to  where  lights  were  seen  flitting  about  in  the  dark  shadows 
of  the  buildings  of  the  ranch.  Another  moment,  and  Stryker  had  dis- 
mounted and  was  kneeling  beside  the  prostrate  and  unconscious  form 
of  his  lieutenant.  Some  misguided  ranchman,  mistaking  for  a  new 
assailant  the  tall  young  soldier  who  galloped  into  the  midst  of  the 
swarm  of  taunting  Irishmen,  had  fired  the  cruel  shot.  There  lay 
Nolan  dead  upon  the  sward,  and  here,  close  at  hand,  his  grief-stricken 
master  had  finally  swooned  from  loss  of  blood,  the  bullet  having 
pierced  his  leg  below  the  knee.  Beside  him  knelt  the  doctor :  he  had 
cut  away  the  natty  riding-boot,  and  was  rapidly  binding  up  the  wound. 
Close  at  hand  stood  Gwynne,  a  world  of  anxiety  and  trouble  in  his 
bruised  and  still  discolored  face.  Grouped  around  were  some  of  the 
assailing  party,  crestfallen  and  dismayed  at  the  unlooked-for  result  of 
their  foray,  but  ashamed  to  attempt  to  ride  away,  now  that  their 
favorite  young  officer  was  sore  stricken  as  a  result  of  their  mad  folly. 
Mr.  Ewen,  too,  had  come  out,  and  was  bustling  about,  giving  directions 
to  the  one  or  two  of  his  hands  who  had  ventured  forth  from  the  office 
building.     The  big  frame  house  under  whose  walls  the  group  was 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  845 

gathered  was  evidently  used  as  a  dormitory  for  a  number  of  men,  and 
this  had  been  the  objective  point  of  the  attack,  but  not  a  soul  had 
issued  from  its  portals :  the  occupants  were  the  men  who  made  the 
assault  on  Perry  the  night  of  his  first  visit,  and  now  they  deemed  it 
best  to  keep  within.  Everything  indicated  that  Perry  had  got  to  the 
scene  just  in  time  to  prevent  a  bloody  and  desperate  fracas,  for  the  few 
ranch-people  who  appeared  were  still  quivering  with  excitement  and 
dread.     Ewen  was  almost  too  much  agitated  to  speak  : 

"  Go  to  Mr.  Maitland  as  soon  as  you  can,  doctor :  this  has  given 
him  a  fearful  shaking  up.  Mrs.  Cowan  is  having  a  room  made  ready 
for  Mr.  Perry.     Ah  !  here's  young  Cowan  now. — Ready  ?"  he  asked. 

"  All  ready.  Mother  says  carry  the  gentleman  right  in. — She  wants 
you  to  come  too,"  he  added,  in  lower  tone,  to  Sergeant  Gwynne,  but 
the  latter  made  no  reply. 

And  so,  borne  in  the  arms  of  several  of  his  men.  Lieutenant  Perry 
was  carried  across  the  intervening  space  and  into  the  main  building. 
When  he  recovered  consciousness,  as  the  morning  light  came  through 
the  eastern  windows,  he  found  himself  lying  in  a  white-curtained  bed 
in  a  strange  room,  with  a  strange  yet  kind  and  motherly  face  bending 
over  him,  and  his  captain  smiling  down  into  his  wondering  eyes. 

"  You  are  coming  round  all  right,  old  fellow,"  he  heard  Stryker 
say.  "I'll  call  the  doctor  now :  he  wanted  to  see  you  as  soon  as  you 
waked." 

And  then  Quin  came  in  and  said  a  few  cheery  words  and  bade  him 
lie  still  and  worry  about  nothing.  The  row  was  over,  thanks  to  him, 
and  he  and  poor  Nolan  were  the  only  victims ;  but  it  had  been  a  great 
shock  to  Mr.  Maitland  and  rendered  his  condition  critical. 

Perry  listened  in  silence,  asking  no  questions.  For  the  time  being 
he  could  think  of  nothing  but  Nolan's  loss.  It  was  such  a  cruel  fate  to 
be  killed  by  those  he  came  to  save. 

All  that  day  he  lay  there,  dozing  and  thinking  alternately.  He 
wondered  at  the  tenderness  and  devotion  with  which  the  kind  old 
Englishwoman  nursed  him  and  seemed  to  anticipate  his  every  want. 
Quin  came  in  towards  evening  and  dressed  his  wound,  which  now  began 
to  be  feverish  and  painful.  He  heard  his  colonel's  voice  in  the  hall- 
way, too,  and  heard  him  say  to  the  doctor  that  somebody  at  Rossiter 
was  eager  to  come  down  and  take  care  of  him.  "  Bosh  !"  said  the 
blunt  surgeon ;  "  I've  a  far  better  nurse  here, — and  a  reserve  to  fall 
back  upon  that  will  be  worth  a  new  life  to  him."  And,  weak  and 
feverish  though  he  was.  Perry's  heart  thrilled  within  him  :  he  wondered 
if  it  could  mean  Gladys.  Two  days  more  he  lay  there,  the  fever  skil- 
fully controlled  by  the  doctor's  ministrations,  and  the  pain  of  his  wound 
subdued  by  Mrs.  Cowan's  cooling  bandages  and  applications.  But 
there  was  a  burning  fever  in  his  heart  that  utterly  refused  to  down. 
He  strained  his  ears  listening  for  the  sound  of  her  voice  or  the  pit-a-pat 
of  her  foot-fall  in  the  corridor.  At  last  he  mustered  courage  and  asked 
for  her,  and  Mrs.  Cowan  smiled  : 

"  Miss  Maitland  has  been  here  three  times  to  inquire  how  you 
were ;  but  it  was  while  you  were  sleeping,  Mr.  Perry,  and  she  rarely 
leaves  her  father's  bedside.  He  is  very  ill,  and  seems  to  be  growing 
Vol.  XLII— 65 


846  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

weaker  every  day.  I  don't  know  what  we  would  have  done  if  we  had 
not  found  Dr.  Quin  here :  he  has  pulled  him  through  two  or  three 
bad  seizures  during  the  past  year." 

"  Where  had  you  known  the  doctor  before  ?"  asked  Perry,  with  an 
eager  light  in  his  eyes. 

"  Nowhere ;  but  it  was  as  though  one  of  his  own  kith  and  kin  had 
suddenly  appeared  here  to  welcome  Mr.  Maitland.  The  doctor  is  a  first- 
cousin  of  Mrs.  Maitland's :  she  was  from  Ireland,  and  it  was  from  her 
family  that  the  ranch  was  named.  Lord  Dunraven  is  of  the  peerage  of 
Ireland,  you  know,"  added  Mrs.  Cowan,  with  the  cheerful  confidence 
of  the  Englishwoman  that  every  person  of  any  education  or  standing 
must  be  familiar  with  the  pages  of  Debrett. 

"  How  should  I  know  anything  about  it  ?"  laughed  Perry.  He 
felt  in  merry  mood ;  another  page  in  his  volume  of  suspicion  and  dread 
was  being  torn  away,  and  Quin's  relations  with  the  household  were 
turning  out  to  be  such  as  made  him  an  object  of  lively  interest,  not 
of  jealous  doubt. 

Then  came  callers  from  the  garrison.  It  seemed  as  though  all 
of  a  sudden  the  blockade  had  been  raised  and  that  no  people  were 
so  warmly  welcomed  at  Dunraven  as  the  very  ones  who  had  been 
especially  proscribed.  Mr.  Maitland,  weak  and  ill  as  he  was,  had 
asked  to  be  allowed  to  see  Colonel  Brainard  on  the  occasion  of  that 
officer's  second  visit ;  Stryker,  Dana,  Graham,  and  Parke  had  all  been 
allowed  to  come  up  and  see  Perry  a  few  moments,  but  Mrs.  Cowan 
was  vigilant  and  remorseless,  would  allow  them  only  a  brief  inter- 
view, and,  with  smiling  determination,  checked  her  patient  when  he 
attempted  to  talk.  The  third  day  of  his  imprisonment  Dr.  Quin  came 
scowling  in  along  in  the  afternoon,  manifestly  annoyed  about  something, 
and  said  a  few  words  in  a  low  tone  to  Mrs.  Cowan,  and  that  usually 
equable  matron  fluttered  away  down-stairs  in  evident  excitement. 

"  It's  Mrs.  Belknap,"  explained  the  doctor,  in  answer  to  Perry's 
inquiring  look.  "  She  has  ridden  down  here  with  Dana  and  sent  her 
card  up  to  Gladys, — who  can't  bear  the  sight  of  her ;  I  don't  know 
why  ;  intuition,  I  suppose." 

Presently  Mrs.  Cowan  reappeared :  "  Miss  Gladys  has  asked  to  be 
excused,  as  she  does  not  wish  to  leave  her  father  at  this  moment ;  and 
the  lady  would  like  to  come  up  and  see  Mr.  Perry." 

"  Tell  her  no  !"  said  Quin,  savagely.  "  No, — here  :  I'll  go  my- 
self." And  down  went  the  doughty  medical  officer,  and  straightway 
the  rumbling  tones  of  his  harsh  voice  were  heard  below :  the  words 
were  indistinguishable,  but  Mrs.  Cowan's  face  indicated  that  there  was 
something  in  the  sound  that  gave  her  comfort.  She  stood  at  the 
window  watching  the  pair  as  they  rode  away. 

"  Miss  Gladys  shuddered  M'hen  she  had  to  shake  hands  with  her 
that  day  when  we  came  away  from  Mrs.  Sprague's,"  said  she.  "  I  hope 
that  lady  is  not  a  particular  friend  of  yours,  Mr.  Perry  ?" 

"  We  have  been  very  good  friends  indeed,"  said  he,  loyally.  "To 
be  sure,  I  have  hardly  known  Mrs.  Belknap  a  month,  but  both  she 
and  the  captain  have  been  very  kind  to  me."  All  the  same,  down  in 
the  bottom  of  his  heart  he  did  not  wonder  at  Miss  Maitland's  sensa- 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  847 

tions.  He  was  beginning  to  despair  of  ever  seeing  her,  and  yet  could 
get  no  explanation  that  satisfied  him. 

"  You  know  she  can  walk  only  with  great  pain  and  difficulty  even 
now,"  said  Mrs.  Cowan.  "  Her  ankle  was  veiy  badly  wrenched,  and  she 
hardly  goes  farther  than  from  her  own  to  her  father's  room.  You  ought 
to  feel  complimented  that  she  has  been  here  to  your  door  three  times." 

"  I  feel  more  like  butting  my  brains  out  for  being  asleep,"  muttered 
Perry  in  reply.  "  I  wish  you  would  wake  me  next  time,  Mrs.  Cowan. 
I  shan't  believe  it  until  I  see  it,  or  hear  her  voice  at  the  door." 

She  had  excused  herself  to  Mrs.  Belknap,  and  the  doctor  had  denied 
that  lovely  woman  her  request  to  be  allowed  to  come  up  and  see  Mr. 
Perry  ;  and  yet,  the  very  next  day,  when  the  big  four-mule  ambulance 
from  Rossiter  came  driving  up  to  the  front  door,  and  Mrs.  Sprague  and 
Mrs.  Lawrence,  escorted  by  the  colonel  and  Captain  Stryker,  appeared 
on  the  veranda,  how  did  it  happen  that  the  ladies  were  speedily  ushered 
up-stairs  to  Miss  Maitland's  own  room,  and  that,  after  an  animated 
though  low-toned  chat  of  half  an  hour  with  her,  they  were  marshalled 
down  the  long  corridor  by  Mrs.  Cowan  in  person,  and,  to  Perry's  huge 
delight,  were  shown  in  to  his  bedside?  It  looked  as  though  Quin  were 
showing  unwarrantable  discrimination.  Stryker  and  the  colonel,  too, 
came  in  to  see  him,  and  the  latter  told  him  that  both  Mr.  Maitland  and 
Mr.  Ewen  had  begged  that  the  arrested  soldiers  might  not  be  punished. 
Including  Sergeant  Leary  and  Kelly,  there  were  now  twenty  men  under 
charges  more  or  less  grave  in  their  character,  and  he  had  asked  that  a 
general  court-martial  be  convened  for  their  trial.  The  colonel  deeply 
appreciated  the  feeling  displayed  by  the  stricken  proprietor  and  his 
overseer ;  he  was  touched  that  even  in  his  extreme  illness  and  prostra- 
tion Mr.  Maitland  should  intercede  for  the  men  who  had  made  so  hos- 
tile an  invasion  of  his  premises  and  brought  upon  the  inmates  of  Dun- 
raven  a  night  of  dread  and  anxiety  ;  but  discipline  had  to  be  maintained, 
he  replied,  and  the  ringleaders  in  the  move  had  been  guilty  of  a  flagrant 
breach  which  could  not  be  overlooked. 

But  on  the  following  day — the  fourth  of  Perry's  stay — the  doctor 
came  down  with  a  face  full  of  gloom  and  distress.  Both  nurse  and 
patient  noted  it,  and  inquired  the  cause.  For  a  time  Quin  avoided  any 
direct  reply :  "  something  had  ruffled  him  up  at  the  post,"  he  answered  : 
"  can't  tell  you  about  it  now.  I'll  do  it  by  and  by.  I  want  to  think." 
He  examined  Perry's  leg,  dressed  and  rebandaged  the  wound,  and  then 
went  back  to  Mr.  Maitland's  room.  They  could  hear  his  voice  in  the 
hall  after  a  while,  and  Perry's  heart  began  to  throb  heavily :  he  was 
sure  the  low,  sweet  tones,  almost  inaudible,  that  came  floating  along 
the  corridor,  were  those  of  Gladys.  When  Mrs.  Cowan  spoke  to  him 
on  some  ordinary  topic,  he  impatiently  bade  her  hush, — he  could  not 
bear  to  be  disturbed, — and,  far  from  being  hurt  at  his  petulance,  Mrs. 
Cowan  smiled  softly  as  she  turned  away. 

Then  Quin  came  back,  and,  after  fidgeting  around  a  moment,  ab- 
ruptly addressed  his  patient: 

"  Perry,  do  you  remember  that  morning  you  rode  down  here  right 
after  reveille  and  met  me  on  the  trail, — or  at  least  would  have  met  me 
if  I  hadn't  dodged  and  gone  over  to  the  other  side  of  the  valley?" 


848  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

"  Certainly  I  do,  doctor." 

"  I  may  as  well  explain  that  singular  performance  first.  You  may 
have  heard  that  I  didn't  get  along  amicably  with  your  predecessors  of 
the  Eleventh.  Their  colonel  was  ass  enough  to  totally  misconstrue  the 
purpose  of  my  visits  here,  and  I  was  ass  enougii  to  make  no  explana- 
tion. The  Maitlands  went  away ;  I  was  not  called  for  again  while 
the  Eleventh  remained ;  and  therefore  I  said  no  more  about  it.  Mr. 
Maitland  returned  unexpectedly  soon  after  you  came,  and  the  first  I 
knew  of  it  was  the  signal-lights  telling  me  he  was  there,  ill,  and  that 
I  was  wanted.  It  was  the  night  of  the  colonel's  dinner-party.  I 
couldn't  explain  then,  and  decided  to  go  at  once  and  explain  afterwards. 
When  I  met  you  all  of  a  sudden  the  next  morning,  the  first  impulse  was 
to  get  away  out  of  your  sight,  and  I  obeyed  it  simply  because  of  the 
unpleasant  experiences  I  had  been  having  with  your  fellow-cavalrymen. 
I  did  not  want  to  have  to  answer  questions.  See  ?  I  was  ashamed  of 
it,  but  too  late  to  turn  back." 

Perry  nodded.     ''  I  understand  it — now,"  he  said. 

"  Well,  what  I  want  to  ask  is  about  Sergeant  Gwynne.  Did  you 
meet  him  before  you  got  back?" 

"  Yes, — a  mile  or  so  out  from  the  post." 

"You  stopped  and  talked  with  him,  didn't  you?" 

"  Yes, — for  several  minutes." 

Mrs.  Cowan's  needle-work  had  fallen  in  her  lap.  She  was  seated 
near  the  window,  and  had  been  busily  sewing.  Now  she  was  looking 
up,  eager  and  intent. 

"  You've  known  him  a  long  time,  haven't  you  ?" 

"Yes, — ever  since  he  joined.  He's  one  of  the  best  sergeants  I 
ever  knew." 

"You  would  hardly  think  him  guilty  of  any  dishonesty,  would 
you  ?" 

Mrs.  Cowan  was  rising  from  her  chair ;  the  needle-work  had  fallen 
to  the  floor. 

"  Dishonesty  !  Not  by  a — good  deal !"  was  the  reply  that  bade 
fair  to  be  even  more  impulsive,  and  was  checked  only  in  deference  to 
the  presence  of  a  woman. 

"  Well,  neither  would  I,  from  what  I've  seen  of  him ;  and  yet  Mr. 
Maitland's  seal  ring  was  found  on  him  last  night." 

"  My  God  !     Of  course  he  could  explain  it  in  some  way  ?" 

"  He  couldn't, — or  wouldn't.  He  simply  stood  there,  white  as  a 
sheet  except  where  those  bruises  made  him  green  and  blue.  He  had 
denied  the  charge  flatly  when  accused;  and  yet  there  it  was  in  his  chest. 
I  never  saw  any  man  so  taken  aback  as  Captain  Stryker :  he  said  he 
would  have  sworn  to  his  innocence." 

"  So  would  I ! — so  I  do,  by  Jupiter  !  It's  some  foul  plot ! — 
it's " 

But  he  got  no  further.  To  his  own  amaze,  to  the  utter  bewilder- 
ment of  Dr.  Quin,  Mrs.  Cowan  precipitated  herself  upon  her  patient, 
seized  the  hand  that  lay  nearest  hei-  on  the  coverlet,  and  burst  forth 
into  half- articulate,  sobbing,  indignant  words,  mingled  with  kisses 
f-howered  passionately  on  that  astonished  hand. 


DUN  RAVEN  RANCH.  849 

"  Oh,  bless  him  for  the  words !  Oh,  God  bless  you,  Mr.  Perry  ! 
.  .  .  Oh,  the  fools !  the  lunatics !  .  .  .  A  thief,  indeed !  .  .  .  The  idea 
of  his  being  accused  !  .  .  .  Oh,  God  !  what  would  his  mother  in  heaven 
say  to  this  ?  ...  As  though  he  had  not  borne  far  too  much  already ! 
.  .  .  It's  his  own — his  own  ring,  I  tell  you  !  Who  else  should  wear  it? 
.  .  .  Who  dare  take  it  from  him  now  ?  .  .  .  Oh,  the  infamy  of  it  all !" 

In  her  wild  excitement,  in  her  incoherent  praise  and  lamentation 
and  wrath  and  indignation,  her  voice,  her  sobs,  rang  through  the  room 
and  out  along  the  broad  corridor.  Even  in  their  amaze  the  two  men 
heard  a  hurried  step  approaching,  a  limping,  halting,  painful  step,  yet 
rapid  and  impulsive.  Quin,  absorbed  in  his  contemplation  of  the  ex- 
cited woman,  paid  no  attention  ;  Perry's  eager  eyes  were  strained  upon 
the  door- way,  where,  the  very  next  instant,  with  pallid  features  and 
startled  mien,  Gladys  Maitland  suddenly  appeared  and  stood  staring  in 
upon  the  spectacle  of  Mrs.  Cowan  kissing  and  sobbing  over  Perry's 
hand.  Already  he  had  divined  the  truth,  and  strove  to  warn  the  tear- 
blinded  woman  of  her  presence ;  but  Mrs.  Cowan's  excitement  had 
increased  to  the  verge  of  hysteria  :  she  was  laughing  and  crying  now  by 
turns,  blessing  her  soldier  patient  for  his  faith  in  the  accused  sergeant, 
and  then  breaking  forth  anew  in  indignant  expletive,  "  Who  are  his 
accusers?  Who  dare  say  thief  to  him?  .  .  .  Not  one  is  fit  to  look 
him  in  the  face !  'Twas  the  very  ring  his  mother  gave  him,  .  .  .  his 
own !  his  own  !" 

And  then  the  doctor  seized  her  and  turned  her  so  that  she  must  see 
Gladys, — Gladys,  wild-eyed,  panting,  staring,  tottering  forward  from 
the  door-way.  One  sharp  cry  from  the  woman's  lips,  one  spring  towards 
the  reeling  form,  and  she  had  caught  the  girl  in  her  arms  : 

"  Gladys,  Gladys,  my  little  pet !  my  own  baby  girl !  Look  up  and 
thank  God  !  I've  tried  to  keep  my  promise  and  his  secret  until  he 
released  me.  I've  tried  hard,  but  it's  all  useless  :  I  can't,  I  can't.  Oh, 
Gladys,  sweetheart,  your  mother's  smiling  down  on  us  this  day.  Who 
do  you  think  has  come  back  to  us,  safe  and  strong  and  well  and  brave  ? 
Who  but  your  own  brother,  your  own  Archie,  Gladys  ?" 

XVIII. 

"  Yes,  certainly  very  pretty, — now.  It's  such  a  pity  that  English- 
women grow  coarse  and  stout  and  red-faced  so  very  soon  after  they 
are  married."  The  speaker  was  Mrs.  Belknap,  and  her  soft  voice  was 
tuned  to  a  pitch  of  almost  pathetic  regret.  They  were  talking  of  Miss 
Maitland,  who  had  just  been  assisted  to  her  saddle  by  the  colonel,  and 
now,  followed  by  the  faithful  Griggs  and  escorted  by  Captain  Stryker, 
was  riding  away  homeward  after  a  brief  call  at  the  post.  Fort  Rossiter, 
once  so  humdrum  and  placid  and  "  stupid,"  as  the  ladies  termed  it,  had 
been  the  vortex  of  sensations  for  a  whole  fortnight,  and  one  excitement 
had  trodden  on  the  heels  of  another  with  such  rapidity  that  people  were 
growing  weary. 

Perhaps  the  happiest  man  in  garrison  was  Captain  Stryker :  he  had 
refused  to  believe  in  the  guilt  of  Sergeant  Gwynue  when  Captain  Wayne 
came  to  him  to  say  that  there  were  men  in  his  troop  who  openly  accused 


850  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

the  sergeant  of  having  that  cherished  seal-ring  secreted  in  his  chest. 
So  confident  was  he  that  he  had  gone  with  the  captain  and  Mr.  Farn- 
ham  to  the  stables  and  there  told  Gwynne  of  the  charge  against  him. 
Gvvynne  flushed  hotly,  denied  the  truth  of  the  story,  but  hesitated  when 
asked  if  he  would  allow  his  chest  to  be  searched.  This  was  quickly  noted 
by  Wayne  and  Farnham,  and  the  search  was  insisted  upon.  Gwynne 
then  said  there  were  a  few  items  in  that  chest  which  he  allowed  no  one 
to  see ;  he  pledged  his  soldier  word  that  they  were  nothing  but  a  paper 
or  two,  some  little  photographs,  and  a  book.  These  he  asked  permission 
to  remove  first ;  then  they  might  search.  But  Wayne  sternly  refused. 
The  sergeant  turned  very  white,  set  his  lips,  and  hesitated  still,  until 
his  own  captain  spoke ;  then  he  surrendered  his  key.  Wayne  and  Farn- 
ham bent  over  the  chest  while  the  troop  first  sergeant  rapidly  turned 
over  the  clothing,  books,  etc.,  with  trembling  hands.  There  was  a 
little  compartment  at  one  side,  in  which  were  lying  some  small  items, — 
a  pocket-compass,  a  pencil-case,  some  keys,  a  locket  and  a  neck-chain, 
and,  among  these,  something  wrapped  in  tissue-paper.  This  was  handed 
to  Captain  Wayne,  who  unrolled  the  paper,  and — there  was  a  massive 
seal-ring.  A  crest  was  cut  in  the  stone,  and,  taking  it  to  the  light, 
Wayne  was  able  to  make  out  the  motto, — "  Quod  swsum  volo  videre." 
It  was  the  ring  Maitlaud  had  lost. 

Stryker  looked  wonderingly  at  his  sergeant,  who  stood  there  as 
though  petrified  with  amaze  and  consternation,  pale  as  death,  and  un- 
able to  say  a  word.  Asked  to  explain  the  matter,  he  could  only  shake 
his  head,  and,  after  a  while,  hoarsely  mutter,  "  I  know  nothing  about 
it.     I  never  placed  it  there." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  you  never  saw  it  before  ?"  asked  Wayne, 
sternly.     And  Gwynne  was  silent. 

"  Is  this  the  first  time  you  ever  saw  it,  I  say  ?"  repeated  the  captain, 
angrily. 

"  No,  sir :  I  have  seen  it  before,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Then  you  must  have  known  'twas  stolen,  and  you  have  connived 
at  its  concealment,"  was  Wayne's  triumphant  conclusion ;  and  on  the 
report  of  his  officers  Colonel  Brainard  had  no  alternative  but  to  order 
Gwynne's  close  arrest.  Only  Stryker's  appeal  and  guarantee  saved  the 
sergeant  from  confinement  in  the  guard-house. 

The  next  sensation  was  the  sight  of  Dr.  Quin  galloping  back  to 
the  post  like  mad  and  bolting  unceremoniously  into  the  colonel's  gate. 
Then  Stryker  was  sent  for,  and  the  three  officers  held  an  excited  con- 
versation. Then  the  orderly  went  at  a  run  over  to  the  quarters,  and 
in  five  minutes  Sergeant  Gwynne,  erect  as  ever  and  dressed  with  scru- 
pulous care,  looking  anything  but  like  a  guilty  man,  was  seen  crossing 
the  parade  towards  his  colonel's  house.  The  men  swarmed  out  on  the 
porches  as  the  tidings  went  from  lip  to  lip,  and  some  of  the  Irish 
troopers  in  Wayne's  company  were  remarked  as  being  oddly  excited. 
Just  what  took  place  during  that  interview  none  could  tell,  but  in  ten 
minutes  the  news  was  flying  around  the  garrison  that  Sergeant  Gwynne 
was  released  from  arrest,  and  in  less  than  half  an  hour,  to  the  wonder- 
ment of  everybody,  he  was  seen  riding  away  towards  Dunraven  with 
Dr.  Quin,  and  for  two  days  more  did  not  reappear  at  Rossiter. 


*i 


DUNRAVEN  RANCH.  851 

But  when  the  story  flashed  from  house  to  house  about  the  garrison 
that  Sergeant  Gwynne  was  not  Sergeant  Gwynne  at  all,  but  Mr.  Archi- 
bald Wyndham  Quin  Maitland,  late  of  Her  Majesty's  — th  Lancers, 
and  only  surviving  sou  of  the  invalid  owner  of  Dunraven  Ranch  and 
otlier  valuable  properties,  the  amaze  amounted  to  almost  stupefaction. 
It  was  known  that  old  Mr.  Maitland  was  lying  desperately  weak  and 
ill  the  day  that  Quin  the  doctor  came  riding  back.  All  manner  of 
stories  were  told  regarding  the  affecting  nature  of  the  interview  in 
which  the  long-lost  son  was  restored  to  his  overjoyed  father,  but,  like 
most  stories,  they  were  purely  the  oifspring  of  imagination,  for  at  that 
interview  only  three  were  present :  Gladys  led  her  brother  to  the  room 
and  closed  the  door,  while  good  Mrs.  Cowan  stood  weeping  for  joy 
down  the  long  corridor,  and  Dr.  Quin  blinked  his  eyes  and  fussed  and 
fidgeted  and  strode  around  Perry's  room  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
exploding  every  now  and  then  into  sudden  comment  on  the  romantic 
nature  of  the  situation  and  the  idiocy  of  some  people  there  at  Rossiter. 
"  Joy  does  not  kill,"  he  said  :  "  Maitland  would  have  been  a  dead  man 
by  the  end  of  the  week,  but  for  this :  it  will  give  him  a  new  lease  of 
life." 

And  it  did.  Though  the  flame  was  feeble  and  flickering,  it  was 
fanned  by  a  joy  unutterable.  The  boy  whom  the  stricken  father  be- 
lieved his  stubborn  pride  and  condemnation  had  driven  to  despair  and 
suicide  was  restored  to  him  in  the  prime  of  manly  strength,  all  tender- 
ness, all  forgiveness,  and  Maitland's  whole  heart  went  up  in  thanks- 
giving. He  begged  that  Brainard  and  Stryker  would  come  to  him, 
that  he  might  thank  them  for  their  faith  in  his  sou  ;  he  bade  the  doctor 
say  to  Perry  that  the  moment  he  could  be  lifted  from  his  bed  he  would 
come  to  clasp  his  hand  and  bless  him  for  being  a  far  better  friend  to 
his  son  than  he  had  been  a  father. 

The  sergeant's  return  to  the  post  was  the  signal  for  a  general  turn- 
out on  the  part  of  the  men,  all  of  whom  were  curious  to  see  how  he 
would  appear  now  that  his  identity  was  established.  Of  course  his 
late  assailants  could  not  join  in  the  crowd  that  thronged  about  him, 
but  they  listened  with  eagerness  to  everything  that  was  told.  "  He 
was  just  the  same  as  ever,"  said  all  accounts.  He  had  never  been 
intimate  with  any  of  them,  but  always  friendly  and  kind.  One  thing 
went  the  rounds  like  lightning. 

"  You'll  be  getting  your  discharge  now,  sergeant,"  said  Mrs.  Reed, 
the  voluble  wife  of  the  leader  of  the  band,  "  and  taking  up  your  resi- 
dence at  the  ranch,  I  suppose.  Of  course  the  British  minister  can  get 
it  for  you  in  a  minute." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,  Mrs.  Reed,"  was  the  laughing  answer.  "  I  en- 
listed to  serve  Uncle  Sam  five  years,  and  he's  been  too  good  a  friend  to 
me  to  turn  from.     I  shall  serve  out  my  time  with  the  — th." 

And  the  sergeant  was  true  to  his  word.  If  old  Maitland  could 
have  prevailed,  an  application  for  his  son's  discharge  would  have  gone 
to  Washington ;  but  this  the  soldier  positively  forbade.  He  had  eight 
months  still  to  serve,  and  he  meant  to  carry  out  his  contract  to  the 
letter.  Stryker  offered  him  a  furlough,  and  Gwynne  thankfully  took 
a  week,  that  he  might  be  by  his  father's  side  and  help  nurse  him  to 


852  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

better  health.  "  By  that  time,  too,  the  garrison  will  have  grown  a  little 
more  accustomed  to  it,  sir,  and  I  will  have  less  embarrassment  in  going 
on  with  my  work." 

Two  days  before  his  return  to  duty  there  came  a  modified  sensation 
in  the  shape  of  the  report  that  a  trooper  of  Wayne's  company  had 
deserted.  He  was  a  man  who  had  borne  a  bad  reputation  as  a  turbu- 
lent, mischief-making  fellow,  and  when  Sergeant  Leary  heard  of  his 
going  he  was  in  a  state  of  wild  excitement.  He  begged  to  be  allowed 
to  see  his  captain,  and  to  him  he  confessed  that  one  of  his  little  party 
of  three  had  seen  the  ring  drop  from  Mr.  Maitland's  finger  the  night 
of  the  first  visit  to  Dunraven,  had  managed  to  pick  it  up  and  carry  it 
away  in  the  confusion,  and  had  shown  it  to  his  friend  in  Wayne's  troop 
when  they  got  back.  The  latter  persuaded  him  to  let  him  take  it,  as 
the  lockers  of  the  men  who  were  at  Dunraven  were  sure,  he  said,  to  be 
searched.  It  was  known  that  he  had  a  grudge  against  Gwynne ;  he 
was  one  of  the  men  who  was  to  have  gone  to  the  ranch  the  night  they 
purposed  riding  down  and  challenging  the  Englishmen  to  come  out  and 
fight,  but  had  unaccountably  failed  at  the  last  moment.  They  believed 
that  he  liad  chosen  that  night  to  hide  the  ring  in  the  sergeant's  chest  : 
he  could  easily  have  entered  through  the  window.  And  this  explana- 
tion— the  only  one  ever  made — became  at  once  accepted  as  the  true  one 
throughout  the  garrison. 

During  the  week  of  his  furlough  the  sergeant  found  time  to  spend 
many  hours  by  the  bedside  of  Lieutenant  Perry,  who  was  rapidly  re- 
covering, and  who  by  the  end  of  the  week  had  been  lifted  into  an  easy 
invalid-chair  and  wheeled  in  to  see  Mr.  Maitland.  When  not  with 
Mr.  Perry,  the  young  trooper's  tongue  was  ever  wagging  in  his  praise. 
He  knew  many  a  fine  officer  and  gallant  gentleman  in  the  service  of 
the  old  country,  he  said,  and  he  admired  many  a  captain  and  subaltern 
in  that  of  his  adopted  land,  but  the  first  one  to  whom  he  "  warmed" — 
the  first  one  to  win  his  affection — was  the  young  cavalryman  w^ho  had 
met  his  painful  wound  in  their  defence.  Old  Maitland  listened  to  it 
all  eagerly, — he  had  already  given  orders  that  the  finest  thoroughbred  at 
Dunraven  should  be  Perry's  the  moment  he  was  able  to  mount  again, 
— and  he  was  constantly  revolving  in  mind  how  he  could  show  his  ap- 
preciation of  the  officers  who  had  befriended  his  son.  Mrs.  Cowan,  too, 
never  tired  of  hearing  Perry's  praises,  and  eagerly  questioned  when  the 
narrator  flagged.  There  was  another  absorbed  auditor,  who  never  ques- 
tioned, and  who  listened  with  downcast  eyes.  It  was  she  who  seldom 
came  near  Perry  during  his  convalescence,  she  who  startled  and  aston- 
ished the  young  fellow  beyond  measure,  the  day  the  ambulance  came 
down  to  drive  him  back  to  the  fort,  by  withdrawing  the  hand  he  had 
impulsively  seized  when  at  last  she  a|)peared  to  bid  him  adieu,  and 
cutting  short  his  eager  words  with  "  Mrs.  Belknap  will  console  you,  I 
dare  say,"  and  abruptly  leaving  the  room. 

Poor  Ned  !  In  dire  distress  and  perplexity  he  was  driven  back  to 
Rossiter,  and  that  very  evening  he  did  a  most  sensible  and  fortunate 
thing :  he  told  Mrs.  Sprague  all  about  it ;  and,  instead  of  condoling 
with  him  and  bidding  him  strive  to  be  patient  and  saying  that  all 
would  come  right  in  time,  the  little  woman's  kind  eyes  shone  with  de- 


DUN  RAVEN  RANCH.  853 

light,  her  cheeks  flushed  with  genuine  pleasure  ;  she  fairly  sprang  from 
her  chair,  and  danced  up  and  down  and  clapped  her  hands  and  laughed 
with  glee,  and  then,  when  Perry  ruefully  asked  her  if  that  was  the 
sympathy  he  had  a  right  to  expect  from  her,  she  only  lauglied  the  more, 
and  at  last  broke  forth  witli, — 

"  Oh,  you  great,  stupid,  silly  boy  !  You  ought  to  be  wild  with 
happiness.     CcinH  you  see  she's  jealous  ?" 

And  the  very  next  day  she  had  a  long  talk  witli  Dr.  Quin,  whose 
visits  to  Dunraven  still  continued;  and  one  bright  afternoon  when 
Gladys  Maitland  rode  up  to  the  fort  to  return  calls,  she  managed  to 
have  quite  a  chat  with  her,  despite  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Belknap  showed  a 
strong  desire  to  accompany  that  fair  English  girl  in  all  three  of  her 
visits.  In  this  effort,  too,  the  diplomatic  services  of  Captain  Stryker 
proved  rather  too  much  for  the  beauty  of  the  garrison.  Was  it  possible 
that  Mrs.  Sprague  had  enlisted  him  also  in  the  good  cause?  Certain 
it  is  that  the  dark-featured  captain  was  Miss  Maitland's  escort  as  she 
left  the  garrison,  and  that  it  was  with  the  consciousness  of  impending 
defeat  that  Mrs.  Belknap  gave  utterance  to  the  opening  sentence  of  this 
chapter :  Mr.  Perry  had  distinctly  avoided  her  ever  since  his  return. 

One  lovely  evening  late  in  May  Mr.  Perry  was  taking  his  first  ride 
on  the  new  horse,  a  splendid  bay,  and  a  perfect  match  for  Gladys  Mait- 
land's favorite  mount.  Already  had  this  circumstance  excited  smiling 
comment  in  the  garrison  ;  but  if  the  young  man  himself  had  noted  the 
close  resemblance  it  conveyed  no  blissful  augury.  Everybody  remarked 
that  he  had  lost  much  of  his  old  buoyancy  and  life;  and  it  must  be 
confessed  he  was  not  looking  either  blithe  or  well.  Parke  had  sug- 
gested riding  with  him, — an  invitation  which  Perry  treated  so  coldly 
that  the  junior  stopped  to  tiiink  a  moment,  and  began  to  see  through 
the  situation ;  and  so  Mr.  Perry  was  suffered  to  set  forth  alone  that 
evening,  and  no  one  was  surprised  when,  after  going  out  of  the  west 
gate  as  though  bent  on  riding  up  the  Monee,  he  was  presently  seen  to 
have  made  the  circuit  of  the  post  and  was  slowly  cantering  down  to- 
wards the  lower  valley.  Out  on  the  eastern  prairie  another  horseman 
could  be  seen  ;  and  presently  the  two  came  together.  Colonel  Brainard 
took  down  his  binocular  and  gazetl  out  after  them. 

"  I  declare,"  said  he,  "  those  two  figures  are  so  much  alike  I  cannot 
tell  which  of  them  is  Perry." 

"  Then  the  other  is  Sergeant  Gwynne,  colonel,"  said  Stryker,  quietly. 
"  Put  him  in  our  uniform,  and  it  would  indeed  be  hard  to  tell  the  two 
figures  apart.  Mr.  Maitland  told  me  last  week  that  that  was  what  so 
startled  and  struck  him  the  first  time  he  saw  Perry." 

"  How  is  Mr.  Maitland  now,  do  you  know  ?" 

"  He  gets  no  better.  After  the  first  week  of  joy  and  thanksgiving 
over  his  boy's  restoration  to  him,  the  malady  seemed  to  reassert  itself. 
Dunraven  will  have  a  new  master  by  winter,  I  fancy." 

The  colonel  was  silent  a  moment.     Then  he  suddenly  asked, — 

"  By  the  way,  how  was  it  that  Gwynne  wasn't  drowned  ?  I  never 
understood^  that." 

"  He  never  meant  to  be,"  said  Stryker.  "  He  told  Perry  all  about 
it.     He  was  ruined,  he  thought,  in  his  profession  and  his  own  country, 


854  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 

and  he  knew  his  father's  inexorable  pride :  so  he  simply  decided  to  put 
an  end  to  Archie  Maitland  and  start  a  new  life  for  himself.  He  wrote 
his  letters  and  arranged  his  property  with  that  view,  and  called  the 
steward  to  enable  him  to  swear  he  was  in  his  state-room  after  the 
steamer  weighed  anchor.  Then  in  a  jiffy  he  was  over  the  side  in  the 
darkness  ;  it  was  flood-tide,  and  he  was  an  expert  swimmer ;  he  reached 
a  coasting-vessel  lying  near ;  he  had  money,  bought  his  passage  to 
France,  after  a  few  days  at  Cape  Town,  and  then  came  to  America  and 
enlisted.  He  got  a  confession  out  of  one  of  the  irregulars  who  was 
with  him,  Perry  says,  and  that  was  one  of  the  papers  he  was  guarding 
so  jealously.     He  had  given  others  to  Perry  that  very  night." 

"  They  seemed  to  take  to  each  other  like  brothers  from  the  start," 
said  the  colonel,  with  a  quiet  smile. 

"  Just  about,"  answered  Captain  Stryker. 

Meantime,  Perry  and  Sergeant  Gwynne  have  been  riding  slowly 
down  the  valley.  Night  has  come  upon  Dunraven  by  the  hour  they 
reach  the  northern  gate, — no  longer  closed  against  them, — and  as  they 
near  the  house  Perry  slowly  dismounts.  "  I'll  take  the  horses  to  the 
stable  myself :  I  want  to,"  says  his  trooper  friend,  and  for  the  second 
time  the  young  officer  stands  upon  the  veranda  at  the  door- way,  then 
holds  his  hand  as  he  hears  again  the  soft  melody  of  the  piano  floating 
out  upon  the  still  night-air.  Slowly  and  not  without  pain  he  walks 
around  to  the  east  front,  striving  to  move  with  noiseless  steps.  At  last 
he  stands  by  the  open  casement,  just  where  he  had  paused  in  surprise 
that  night  a  month  agone,  and,  slowly  drawing  aside  one  heavy  fold 
of  curtain,  gazes  longingly  in  at  Gladys  Maitland,  seated  there  at  the 
piano,  just  where  he  first  saw  her  lovely  face  and  form.  Her  fingers 
are  wandering  idly  over  the  keys,  playing  little  fragmentary  snatches, 
— first  one  melody,  then  another;  her  sweet  blue  eyes  are  fixed  on 
vacancy, — she  sees  nothing  in  that  room,  or  near  it ;  she  is  paler  than 
when  he  first  looked  upon  her,  and  there  are  traces  of  deep  anxiety  and 
of  some  hidden  sorrow  in  the  fair,  fresh  face.  Presently,  under  the 
soft  touch  of  her  fingers,  a  sweet,  familiar  melody  comes  rippling  forth. 
He  remembers  it  instantly ;  it  is  the  same  he  heard  the  night  of  his 
first  visit, — that  exquisite  "Spring  Song"  of  Mendelssohn's, — and  he 
listens,  spell-bound.  All  of  a  sudden  the  sweet  strains  are  broken  oflP, 
the  music  ceases ;  she  has  thrown  herself  forward,  bowed  her  queenly 
head  upon  her  arms,  and,  leaning  over  the  key-board,  her  form  is 
shaken  by  a  storm  of  passionate  tears.  Perry  hurls  aside  the  shelter- 
ing curtain  and  limps  rapidly  across  the  soft  and  noiseless  rug.  She 
never  dreams  of  his  presence  until,  close  at  her  side,  a  voice  she  has 
learned  to  know  and  know  well — a  voice  tremulous  with  love,  sympa- 
thy," and  yearning — murmurs  only  her  name,  "Gladys,"  and,  starting 
up,  she  looks  one  instant  into  his  longing  eyes. 

Sergeant  "  Gwynne"  Maitland,  Hfting  the  heavy  portiere  a  moment 
later,  stops  short  at  the  entrance,  gazes  one  second  at  the  picturesque 
scene  at  the  piano,  drops  the  portiere,  and  vanishes,  unnoticed. 

Things  seem  changed  at  Dunraven  of  late  years.  The  — th  are 
still  at  Rossiter ;  so  is  Lieutenant  Perry.     It  may  be  the  climate,  or 


DUN  RAVEN  RANCH.  355 

association  with  an  American  sisterhood,  or — who  knows? — perhaps 
somebody  has  told  her  of  Mrs.  Belknap's  prediction,  but  Mrs.  Perry 
has  not  yet  begun  to  grow  coarse,  red-faced,  or  stout.  She  is  wonder- 
fully popular  with  the  ladies  of  the  — th,  and  has  found  warm  friends 
among  them,  but  Mrs.  Sprague  of  the  infantry  is  the  woman  she 
particularly  fancies,  and  her  gruif  old  kinsman  Dr.  Quin  is  ever  a 
welcome  guest  at  their  fireside.  It  was  he,  she  told  her  husband  long 
after,  who  undid  the  mischief  Mrs.  Belknap  had  been  able  to  sow  in 
one  brief  conversation.  "  IVe  known  that  young  woman  ever  since 
she  wore  pinafores,  Gladys.  She  has  some  good  points,  too,  but  her 
one  idiosyncrasy  is  that  every  man  she  meets  should  bow  down  to  and 
worship  her.  She  is  an  Alexander  in  petticoats,  sighing  for  new  worlds 
to  conquer,  has  been  a  coquette  from  the  cradle,  and — what  she  can't 
forgive  in  Ned  Perry  is  that  he  simply  did  not  fall  in  love  with  her 
as  she  thought  he  had." 

Down  at  Dunraven  the  gates  are  gone,  the  doors  are  ever  hospitably 
open.  Ewen  is  still  manager  de  jure,  but  young  Mr.  Maitland,  the 
proprietor,  is  manager  de  facto,  and,  though  there  is  constant  going 
and  coming  between  the  fort  and  the  ranch,  and  the  officers  of  the  — th 
ride  in  there  at  all  hours,  what  makes  the  ranchman  so  popular  among 
the  rank  and  file  is  the  fact  that  Sergeant  "  Gwynue,"  as  they  still  call 
him,  has  a  warm  place  in  his  heart  for  one  and  all,  and  every  year 
when  the  date  of  his  enlistment  in  the  — th  comes  round  he  gives  a 
barbecue  dinner  to  the  men,  whereat  there  are  feasting  and  drinking  of 
healths  and  song  and  speech-making,  and  Leary  and  Donovan  and  even 
the  recreant  Kelly  are  apt  to  be  boisterously  prominent  on  such  occasions, 
but  blissfully  so, — for  there  hasn't  been  a  shindy  of  any  kind  since 
their  old  comrade  stepped  into  his  possessions  at  Dunraven  Ranch. 


THE   END. 


356  CAPTAIN  CHARLES  KING. 


CAPTAIN  CHARLES  KING. 

CAPTAIN  CHARLES  KING  was  born  October  12,  1844,  at 
Albany,  New  York.  He  comes  of  a  family  that  is  distinguished 
in  literature  and  politics.  His  father,  Rufus  King,  was  for  some  years 
minister  resident  for  the  Pontifical  States  at  Rome,  and  during  the 
civil  war  became  brigadier-general  of  volunteers.  His  grandfather, 
Charles  King,  LL.D.,  was  president  of  Columbia  College.  His  great- 
grandfather, Rufus  King,  was  one  of  the  signers  of  the  Constitution,  was 
long  United  States  Senator  from  the  State  of  New  York,  and  was  twice 
minister  at  the  Court  of  St.  James.  On  his  mother's  side  Captain 
King  is  descended  from  the  Indian  apostle,  John  Eliot. 

One  year  after  the  birth  of  his  son,  Mr.  Rufus  King  resigned  from 
the  engineer  corps  of  the  army  and  removed  to  Milwaukee,  Wisconsin, 
to  become  editor  and  proprietor  of  the  Milwaukee  Sentinel.  Thus  it 
came  about  that  Charles's  boyhood  was  spent  in  the  growing  West  and 
on  the  shores  of  Lake  Michigan,  where  he  still  makes  his  home.  In 
1858  he  was  sent  to  New  York  City  to  be  educated  at  the  grammar- 
school  of  Columbia  College  by  Dr.  Charles  Anthon,  and  in  June,  1861, 
he  passed  his  examination  for  the  Freshman  class  in  the  college.  But 
the  Southern  States  had  seceded ;  Fort  Sumter  had  been  fired  upon ; 
the  civil  war  had  begun.  Within  twenty-four  hours  after  he  had  passed 
his  examination,  Charles  King  turned  up  in  the  camp  of  the  Wisconsin 
volunteers  at  Washington,  D.C.,  drum-sticks  in  hand. 

He  had  been  "marker'^  of  the  First  Regiment  of  Wisconsin  militia 
before  going  to  New  York,  and  a  drummer  in  the  Light  Guard.  For 
a  few  weeks  he  was  busy  teaching  his  fellow  Badger  boys  the  use 
of  their  drum-sticks,  and  then,  at  the  organization  of  the  Wisconsin 
brigade, — the  command  of  which  was  tendered  to  his  father, — the  six- 
teen-year-old boy  was  made  mounted  orderly  at  brigade  head-quarters. 

In  this  capacity  he  saw  his  first  real  soldiering  in  Virginia.  It 
was  his  great  good  fortune  to  be  the  guide  of  General  Winfield  S. 
Hancock  the  first  time  that  gallant  soldier  crossed  the  Potomac  at  the 
head  of  his  brigade.  In  October,  1861,  with  the  promise  of  a  cadet- 
ship  at  West  Point  from  President  Lincoln  himself,  Charles  King 
began  to  take  even  a  livelier  interest  in  military  affairs;  and  in  June, 
1862,  he  entered  on  his  academic  career.  He  is  remembered  by  those 
who  knew  him  at  the  United  States  Military  Academy,  West  Point, 
New  York,  as  one  who  hated  mathematics  and  devoted  only  so  much 
of  his  active  brain  to  the  mastering  of  the  exact  sciences  as  was  necessary 
to  fulfil  the  absolute  requirements  of  the  institution.  Nevertheless 
Charley  King  was  a  marked  man  from  the  day  of  his  entrance  as  a 
"plebe,"  June,  1862,  until  his  appointment  to  the  coveted  rank  of  cadet 
corporal  the  following  year.  In  1864  he  was  cadet  first-sergeant  of 
Company  B,  and  he  was  appointed  cadet  adjutant  in  1865.  To  those 
who  did  not  know  the  commandants  of  the  United  States  corps  of  cadets 
■ — Colonel  Henry  Clitz  and  Colonel  Henry  M.  Black,  the  latter  now 


CAPTAIN   CHARLES  KING.  857 

commanding  the  Twenty-Third  Infantry,  but  then  major  of  the  Seventh 
Infantry — this  succession  of  cadet  military  honors  does  not  mean  much. 
The  appointments  of  cadet  officers  are  made  mainly  by  the  commandant. 
King  was  made  cadet  corporal  in  1863,  because  he  gave  promise  of 
being  a  good  soldier;  his  promotion  in  1864  to  the  most  coveted  cadet 
military  rank  possible  was  proof  that  he  was  a  good  soldier;  and  this 
standard  of  military  proficiency  and  personal  bearing  was  further  con- 
firmed when  he  became  a  first-class  man  in  1865.  Adjutant  King  had 
a  way  of  carrying  himself  that  attracted  the  attention  of  the  ladies  and 
excited  the  envy  of  his  fellows  and  the  approbation  of  the  tactical  offi- 
cers. He  gloried  in  the  functions  of  his  office.  He  was  not  spoiled 
by  the  blazing  chevi'ons  of  his  rank,  and  was  popular  with  all  the 
lower-classmen.  His  voice  was  clear  as  a  bell.  His  clothes  always 
fitted  him.  He  was  one  of  those  fellows  who,  after  a  skirmish  drill, 
in  exercises  in  the  ridiftg-hall,  on  the  plain,  or  in  the  laboratory,  or 
building  pontoon-bridges,  or  on  mounted  artillery  drill,  always  looked  as 
neat  as  a  pin.  He  was  a  manly  fellow,  withal.  To  the  fullest  extent,  he 
was  a  ringleader  in  any  exploit  not  inconsistent  with  military  duty  : 
there  he  always  stopped  short.  His  instincts  were  military  in  the  best 
sense  of  the  term.  The  writer  of  these  lines  first  knew  him  in  1864. 
I  was  a  plebe  then,  and  earth  had  few  more  miserable  mortals  than  I 
during  July  and  August  of  that  year.  The  army  officers  on  duty  at 
the  Military  Academy  had  all  gone  through  plebe  camp,  with  its  atten- 
dant bedevilraents,  and  the  tacit  sentiment  of  the  institution  in  those 
days  was  that  it  was  all  right  for  the  yearlings  and  other  upper-class- 
men to  vex  the  plebes  with  bodily  and  mental  labor,  and  harass  and 
"  yank"  them  by  night,  and,  in  general,  to  make  them  feel  that  there 
was  nothing  on  earth,  or  in  the  sea,  or  in  the  air,  that  was  not  better 
than  they.  To  such  unfortunate  ones  a  cheery  word  of  kindly  en- 
couragement from  a  cadet  officer  was  an  oasis  in  a  desert.  King  had 
a  sunny  temper  and  a  wonderfully  exhilarating  way  about  him.  He 
was  liked  personally  and  respected  in  his  official  capacity  by  the  classes 
of  1868-69. 

General  Cullora's  Biographical  Register  of  the  Officers  and  Gradu- 
ates of  the  United  States  Military  Academy  shows  graduate  No.  2136 
to  have  been  Charles  King.  He  was  graduated  number  twenty-two  in 
a  class  of  forty-one  members,  number  twenty-one  being  the  lamentecl 
William  Preston  Dixon,  who  died  on  the  6th  of  October,  1866,  from 
exhaustion  consequent  upon  his  efforts  to  save  a  woman  in  the  wreck 
of  the  steamer  Evening  Star.  Lieutenant  King  was  kept  back  at  the 
Military  Academy,  June  to  August,  1866,  as  artillery  instructor, — a 
compliment  extended  only  to  those  subaltern  officers  who,  as  cadets, 
have  especially  distinguished  themselves  by  the  practical  demonstration 
of  abilities  as  instructors  in  some  tactical  branch  of  the  science  of  war. 

From  the  fall  of  1866  until  January,  1869,  Lieutenant  King  was 
attached  to  Light  Battery  K,  First  Artillery,  serving  at  New  Orleans, 
Louisiana.  On  the  latter  date  he  was  transferred  to  Light  Battery  C, 
at  Fort  Hamilton,  New  York.  He  served  a  few  weeks  on  recruiting- 
service  at  Cincinnati,  Ohio,  in  the  spring  of  1869,  but  was  ordered  to 
West  Point  as  Instructor  in  Cavalry  Tactics,  Artillery  Tactics,  and 


358  CAPTAIN  CHARLES  KING. 

Horsemanship.  This  was  a  rare  compliment.  Of  the  nine  hundred 
and  odd  other  subaltern  officers  of  the  army,  eligible  for  such  detail, — 
and  a  large  majority  desirous  of  it, — the  assignment  of  Lieutenant 
King  for  a  second  tour  of  duty  as  a  military  instructor  for  the  corps  of 
cadets  is  a  fact  which  speaks  for  itself.  At  the  Military  Academy  he 
served  as  commandant  of  Company  C.  He  was  relieved  from  duty  in 
October,  1871,  in  order  to  enable  him  to  accept  a  staif  position.  He 
was  transferred  from  First  Artillery  to  Fifth  Cavalry  on  December  31, 
1871,  and  was  assigned  to  K  Troop.  The  troop  had  then  left  Fort  D. 
A.  Russell,  Wyoming  Territory,  and  was  en  route  to  Camp  Hualpai, 
Arizona  Territory,  which  station  it  reached  February  15,  1872.  The 
subject  of  this  sketch  did  not  accompany  K  Troop  on  this  march,  he 
having  been  selected  by  brevet  Major-General  William  H.  Emory  as  a 
personal  aide-de-camp,  and  was  also  appointed  acting  judge  advocate  of 
the  Department  of  the  Gulf,  with  station  at  New  Orleans,  Louisiana. 
He  retained  the  position  of  confidential  aide  from  November,  1871,  to 
February,  1874. 

On  April  7,  1872,  the  International  race,  gentlemen  riders,  was 
ridden  on  the  old  Metairie  track  under  the  auspices  of  the  Metairie 
Jockey  Club.  England,  Ireland,  Austria,  and  France  were  represented. 
The  challengers  were  Count  Victor  Crenneville,  of  the  Austrian 
Hussars,  and  Captain  George  Rosenlecher,  of  France.  At  first  no 
champion  seemed  available  for  the  United  States.  But  Lieutenant 
Charles  King,  returning  to  the  city  from  a  tour  of  inspection  through 
Mississippi,  heard  of  the  unaccepted  challenge  open  to  the  United 
States,  and  at  once  obtaineji  General  Emory's  permission  to  take  up 
the  gauntlet.  A  great  crowd  was  present  on  the  day  of  the  race,  and 
the  judges'  stand  was  a  beautiful  sight.  It  M'as  too  soon  after  the  war 
for  a  Yankee  to  have  many  friends  among  the  fair  ones  of  New  Orleans, 
and,  while  the  blue  and  gold  bars  of  Captain  Rosenlecher,  the  scarlet 
and  white  of  the  Austrian,  the  cherry-red  and  dark  blue  of  Mr.  Stuart, 
who  rode  for  England,  and  the  green  of  Ireland,  were  to  be  seen  every- 
where among  the  parasols  or  ribbons  and  colors  of  the  ladies,  not  more 
than  one  or  two  had  the  courage  to  wear  King's  colors.  He  was  attired 
in  the  colors  of  his  old  college, — Columbia, — sky-blue  and  white,  and 
looked  the  gentleman  rider  to  perfection.  I  have  seen  his  photograph  : 
a  white  silk  jockey-cap,  blue  shirt,  immaculate-fitting  riding-breeches 
and  boots,  the  latter  weighing  six  ounces.  King's  weight  was  one 
hundred  and  forty- three  pounds.  It  was  a  beautiful  race.  The 
"Yank"  won  it  by  just  two  horse-lengths.  After  the  gold-mounted 
whip  was  presented  to  him  from  the  judges'  stand,  and  the  other  gen- 
tlemen had  cordially  congratulated  the  victor,  he  took  his  prize  across 
the  track  and  laid  it  in  the  lap  of  the  young  lady  who  had  accompanied 
General  and  Mrs.  Emory  to  the  scene,  and  who  wore  the  aide-de-camp's 
colors.  She  has  that  whip  yet,  and  shakes  it  at  him  sometimes,  but  has 
never  used  it  on  their  children.     They  were  married  the  fall  following. 

Their  honeymoon  was  spent  in  no  little  excitement,  for  the  riots 
were  in  full  blast  in  New  Orleans  that  winter  of  1872  and  '73,  and 
the  aide-de-camp  had  full  share  in  all  the  service.  He  was  complimented 
by  General  Emory  for  coolness  and  gallantry.     During  the  year  1872, 


CAPTAIN  CHARLES  KINO.  359 

King's  troop,  K,  Fifth  Cavalry,  was  employed  in  alternate  months  of 
field-service,  from  its  station,  Camp  Hualpai,  Arizona  Territory.  In 
July,  1873,  the  troop  left  Camp  Hualpai  for  Caoap  Verde,  in  Northern 
Arizona,  a  region  so  infested  with  hostile  Apaches  that  incessant  service 
in  the  field  was  necessary  for  all  our  troops.  After  facing  unrecon- 
structed rebels  in  turbulent  New  Orleans  until  the  spring  of  1874, 
King  asked  to  be  relieved  from  staiF  duty  and  to  be  ordered  to  join 
his  troop.  Reluctantly  his  application  was  acceded  to.  During  his 
service  in  New  Orleans  King  had  every  opportunity,  without  in  any  par- 
ticular neglecting  his  military  duties,  of  mingling  with  the  most  exclu- 
sive society  in  the  city.  He  was  eminently  a  society  man,  yet  he  seldom 
availed  himself  of  this  privilege.  This  subordination  of  his  tendencies 
was  due  to  the  fact  that  he  was  proud  of  a  uniform  and  a  profession 
not  especially  honored  in  the  Crescent  City  at  that  period.  King  was 
one  of  those  army  officers  who  would  not  in  citizen's  attire  accept  any 
hospitalities  where  he  would  not  be  equally  welcome  if  clad  in  his 
uniform.  Adherence  to  this  principle  debarred  him  from  a  good  deal 
of  social  enjoyment  in  those  days. 

In  the  campaign  against  the  Apaches  in  Arizona  Territory  (1874- 
76)  the  Fifth  Cavalry,  with  King  in  command  of  his  troop,  was  con- 
spicuous above  all  the  others.  General  Sherman  publicly  stated  that 
he  considered  their  services  "  unequalled  by  those  of  any  cavalry 
regiment  during  our  late  Civil  War."  General  Crook,  the  division 
commander,  also  singled  out  the  Fifth  Cavalry  for  especial  praise  in 
distributing  commendations  on  the  uniform  bravery  of  the  men  and 
oflBcers  under  his  command. 

In  an  engagement  at  Diamond  Butte  on  May  25,  1874,  King's 
gallantry  won  from  President  Grant  a  recommendation  to  the  Senate 
for  the  brevet  commission  of  captain.  The  Senate  referred  the  matter 
to  the  Military  Commission,  and  there  it  was  lost.  On  November  1, 
1874,  King  was  dangerously  wounded  at  Sunset  Pass.  He  was  then 
only  saved  from  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  savages  by  the  devotion 
of  Sergeant  Bernard  Taylor,  a  devotion  carried  to  the  point  of  insub- 
ordination, for  the  latter  refused  to  save  himself,  although  ordered  to 
do  so,  and  held  the  howling  Apaches  in  check  until  reinforcements 
arrived. 

It  was  characteristic  of  King  that  he  should  have  exposed  himself 
to  the  certainty  of  torture  and  a  horrible  death  by  ordering  Sergeant 
Taylor  to  leave  him.  It  is  characteristic  also  that,  in  his  wounded 
and  exhausted  condition,  the  first  thing  he  did  on  his  arrival  at  Camp 
Verde  was  to  dictate  an  official  report,  in  which  he  praised  the  "  superb 
courage"  of  Sergeant  Taylor  and  made  honorable  mention  of  other 
brave  soldiers.  And  it  is  gratifying  to  note  that  Congress  awarded  a 
medal  of  honor  to  Taylor.  King  himself  gained  no  recognition.  His 
only  brevets  were  his  wounds,  received  in  action. 

For  months  King  was  laid  up  with  a  shattered  sabre  arm.  Before 
the  ugly  wound  had  healed  he  was  in  the  saddle  again,  sharing  in  every 
fight,  and  suffering  all  the  terrible  privations  of  the  Fifth  Cavalry  in 
the  Big  Horn  and  Yellowstone  expedition  of  1876.  At  the  close  of 
the  campaign  the  regimental  commander,  Wesley  Merritt,  rewarded 


860  CAPTAIN  CHARLES  KINO. 

him  with  the  adjutancy  of  the  regiment.  This  was  in  October,  1876, 
and  Charles  King  did  honor  to  the  position,  to  the  officer  who  appointed 
him,  and  to  the  regiment,  in  that  capacity,  for  the  next  fifteen  months. 

The  regiment  had  but  little  time  in  garrison,  for  early  in  the  spring 
of  1877  the  Fifth  Cavalry  and  its  adjutant  were  up  along  the  Big  Horn 
range  again.  The  great  railway-riots  of  that  year  brought  by  rail  to 
Chicago  and  Council  Bluffs  some  of  King's  regiment,  many  of  the  rep- 
resentatives bronzed,  bearded,  with  ragged  shirts  and  buckskin  breeches, 
but  all  ablaze  with  cartridges.  The  regiment  was  only  three  weeks  on 
this  kind  of  home-guard  duty  when  the  command  was  sent  scurrying 
back  across  the  continent  to  meet  and  head  off  Chief  Joseph  and  the 
Nez  Perces  in  their  famous  raid  from  Idaho  to  the  edge  of  the  States, 
via  the  Yellowstone  Park. 

That  was  a  glorious  summer  and  autumn  for  Adjutant  King.  He 
loved  the  mountain  and  the  saddle.  His  idea  of  happiness  in  the  dis- 
charge of  what,  alas !  was  his  profession  was  activity  and  scenery  and 
the  spice  of  occasional  sharp  fighting. 

1878  was  for  his  regiment  another  year  of  mountain-scouting,  but 
it  was  also  a  year  of  suffering  for  King.  The  Arizona  wound,  so  far 
from  healing,  had  grown  worse.  There  was  incessant  exfoliation  of  the 
bone,  and  a  drain  upon  the  system  that  proved  too  much  for  him.  He 
had  never  spared  himself;  he  loved  his  calling;  his  future  was  bright 
with  promise ;  he  was  not  half  the  threescore  and  ten  years  allotted  to 
man;  but  he  was  forced  to  ask  that  he  be  sent  before  a  retiring  board. 
In  June,  1879,  having  meanwhile  been  promoted  captain  of  A  Troop, 
King  joined  the  little  array  of  shelved  warriors  on  the  retired  list,  and, 
except  for  an  occasional  and  deeply-relished  visit,  saw  his  old  regiment 
no  more. 

After  his  retirement  he  went  speedily  to  his  old  State, — was  for  two 
years  one  of  the  faculty  of  the  University  of  Wisconsin  at  Madison, 
and  began  at  once  his  connection  with  the  National  Guard  which  has 
continued  to  this  day.  Governor  Jeremiah  Rusk  made  him  colonel 
and  aide-de-camp  in  March,  1882,  and  he  holds  that  position  now. 

King  has  a  bright  and  happy  home  on  Farwell  Avenue,  Milwaukee, 
up  on  the  bluffs  overlooking  the  dancing  waters  of  Lake  Michigan. 
They — he  and  the  lady  who  owns  the  Metairie  whip — have  three  chil- 
dren, two  daughters  and  a  little  fellow  who  is  a  chip  of  his  cavalry 
father  and  never  so  happy  as  when  perched  up  on  the  saddle  in  front 
of  him.  Riding  is  still  the  captain's  favorite  exercise,  and  he  had  a 
gorgeous  time  of  it  with  the  old  Fifth  Cavalry  down  in  the  Indian 
Territory  and  Texas,  last  April, — hunting  and  scouting  with  his  com- 
rades. It  was  there  he  picked  up  the  scenes  of  "  Dunraven  Ranch." 
It  may  be  supposed  that  officers  of  the  Fifth  Cavalry  suggested  some 
of  the  characters ;  but,  contrary  to  general  impression,  that  regiment 
has  furnished  very  few  of  them  in  all  his  stories  combined.  There 
were  only  two  or  three  in  "The  Colonel's  Daughter"  and  "Marion's 
Faith."  "  Billy  Ray,"  who  won  so  many  friends,  was  never  in  the 
Fifth  Cavalry  in  his  life.  This  is  a  fact,  despite  the  confident  assertions 
of  a  good  many  army  readers  and  one  or  two  knowing  critics.  "  I 
don't  know  why  it  is  supposed  I  never  knew  anybody  outside  the  Fifth 


CAPTAIN  CHARLES  KING.  ggj 

Cavalry,"  said  Captain  King  on  receiving  a  letter  which  located  the 
entire  dramatis  personse  of  his  novels  in  that  regiment.  "  One  thing 
seems  certain,  no  one  concedes  that  it  is  possible  for  me  to  create  a 
character, — even  such  humdrum  creatures  as  these  people  of  my  stories 
happen  to  be.  In  point  of  fact,  most  of  them  are  as  purely  imaginary 
as  are  all  the  incidents, — except  the  Indian-fighting." 

The  Fifth  Cavalry  were  right  in  one  estimate,  however, — viz.,  that 
"  Jack  Truscott"  had  his  original  in  their  midst ;  and  to  this  day  the 
intimacy  and  friendship  between  the  author  and  his  hero  exist  as  in  the 
old  days  when  they  lived  and  campaigned  together.  In  his  sketch, 
"  The  Worst  Man  in  the  Troop,"  published  in  LippincoWs  Magazine 
in  September,  1883,  he  has  told  of  the  daring  and  devotion  of  the 
brave  Irish  sergeant  who  rescued  his  wounded  commander  from  the 
howling  Apaches. 

Poor  Taylor  has  been  dead  many  a  year,  but  the  lieutenant  who 
came  dashing  up  the  rocky  mountain-side  at  the  head  of  the  reinforce- 
ments that  saved  the  day  was  "  Jack  Truscott."  Jack's  voice  was  gone 
by  the  time  he  reached  his  young  commander  and  comrade  that  event- 
ful Sunday.  He  could  only  lean  over  and  whisper  his  anxious  and 
breathless  inquiry,  "Much  hurt,  old  man?"  and  received,  in  reply,  the 
combined  assurance  and  order  in  the  same  instant,  "  Arm  busted, — that's 
all.  Pitch  in  and  clean  'em  out."  One  Spartan  lieutenant  obeyed  the 
other,  and  in  five  minutes  more  the  Indians  were  scattering  for  their 
lives  and  "  Jack"  could  come  back  and  wash  the  blood  from  his  com- 
rade's face  and  bind  up  the  gaping  hole  in  his  shoulder. 

In  the  study  where  Captain  King  writes  his  soldier  stories  is  the 
veritable  Navajo  blanket  in  which  the  soldiers  bundled  their  crippled 
leader  and  bore  him  down  the  mountain-side  when  the  fight  was  over. 
There,  too,  is  "  Jack's"  picture  in  the  old  uniform  among  those  of  more 
than  twenty  other  officers  of  the  "Dandy  Fifth," — General  Merritt 
being  in  the  foreground  and  Adjutant  King  to  his  rear ;  but  "  Jack 
Truscott"  has  long  since  laid  down  the  sabre  and  discarded  the  regi- 
mentals. He  has  extensive  and  lucrative  mining  and  cattle  interests 
now  in  Montana.  Time  has  thinned  the  hair  on  his  massive  head  and 
added  weight  to  the  stalwart  form ;  but  the  voice  rings  out  with  all  the 
old  vim  when  occasion  requires.  Only  last  June,  King  sat  in  the  gallery 
of  the  great  auditorium  at  Chicago  when  the  Republican  Convention 
was  in  session.  Chairman  after  chairman  of  State  delegations  was 
greeted  with  impatient  shouts  of  "  Louder !"  but  when  "  Jack"  came 
to  announce  the  vote  of  his  colleagues,  King  looked  radiant  and  remi- 
niscent when  "  Montana !"  was  called  and  "  Jack  Truscott"  rose  to  his 
six  feet  four  and  his  voice  went  sailing  like  a  trumpet  note  through  the 
immense  vaulted  building.  The  hero  of  "  The  Colonel's  Daughter"  is 
a  leader  of  men  now,  despite  the  fact  that  he  long  since  quit  soldering. 

King  in  everything  save  that  crippled  arm  of  his  is  a  soldier. 
With  him  it  is  the  soldier  and  the  soldier  life  that  predorainata  The 
interior  of  his  up-stairs  study  is  in  keeping  with  the  profession  and  the 
tastes  of  the  occupant.  Suspended  from  the  walls  are  the  shoulder- 
knots,  sword-belt,  sabre,  and  forage-cap  that  did  service,  years  ago,  in 
Arizona.  The  fifth  numeral  is  in  the  cap  front,  and  in  the  centre  of  the 
^      Vol.  XLII.— 56 


862      ~  ^0  ALL    WOMEN. 

insignia  of  rank.  Buckskin  leggings, — given  him  by  Buffalo  Bill, — em- 
broidered by  Indian  hands  with  parti-colored  beads,  are  there.  The 
portrait  in  oil  of  his  father,  General  Rufus  King,  looks  down  upon 
maps  and  faded  blue  prints  of  the  region  about  Tonto  Basin,  Arizona, 
— a  spot  destined  to  become  as  much  of  a  place  of  resort  for  tourists 
and  artists  as  the  Falls  of  the  Yosemite  or  Niagara.  In  one  of  the 
drawers  of  Captain  King's  writing-desk  are  the  note-books,  itineraries, 
and  travel-routes  kept  by  him  with  fidelity  and  neatness  during  his 
active  military  career.  The  magnificent  presentation-sword  owned  by 
General  King  is  displayed  by  his  soldier-author  son  in  the  reception- 
room  down-stairs ;  there  too,  on  the  mantel,  is  the  Metairie  whip,  relic 
of  the  New  Orleans  race ;  but  the  photographs  of  King's  soldier-friends 
are  all  kept  in  his  study,  and  lending  a  charm  to  it  all  is  the  refined, 
kindly,  handsome  face  of  the  host,  whose  voice,  like  the  touch  of  his 
bridle-hand,  is  soft  and  sincere  as  a  woman's,  but  can  be  stern  and  cold 
as  steel. 

Philip  Reade,  First  Lieutenant  Third  Infantry,  U.S.A. 


TO  ALL    WOMEN. 


I. 

0SOR.ro WING  women,  ye  who  \Yeep  in  vain, 
Who  uncaressed  sob  on  through  the  dark  night, 
With  broken  wings  that  ache  to  feel  the  light. 
Strained  out  above  joy's  corpse  untimely  slain, — 
All  ye  who,  pure  or  fallen,  live  in  pain. 

Who  suffer  woman-pangs, — or  wrong  or  right, — 
Yearning  through  blistering  tears  for  some  lost  sight, 
Wooing  through  alien  sounds  some  hushed  refrain, — 
All  ye  who  pine  to  cease  rather  than  die, 
AVho  dread  a  second  consciousness,  and  long 
Only  for  peace  as  peace  is  known  to  graves, 
Not  to  the  buried, — unto  you  I  cry, 

My  heart  yearns  over  you,  to  you  belong 
These  words  of  love,  as  to  the  sea  its  waves. 

n. 

Dear  God,  that  I  could  gather  to  my  heart 
In  one  supreme  pang  all  the  awful  throes 
That  wrench  the  heart  of  women  ! — take  their  woes, 

As  from  tired  children's  hands  that  slide  apart 

We  lift  the  burden  that  has  made  them  smart. 
Or  fi'om  some  stem  whereon  a  sweet  flower  grows 
Strip  all  the  thorns,  and  give  them  back  the  rose! 

I  could  bear  bravely  all  my  life  this  part. 


The  Worst  Man  In  The  Troop, 


By  Captain  Charles  King, 
U.  S.  A. 


Philadelphia: 
J.  B.  Lippincott  Company 


1883.] 


THE    WORST  MAN  IN   THE    TROOP. 


287 


duty  under  the  law  by  declaring  the 
officer  entitled  to  the  custody  of  Cook. 
The  noon  train  bore  the  strangely  ill- 
fated  prisoner  on  his  way  to  Virginia 
and  to  death.  No  man  in  like  peril 
ever  seemed  to  have  had  so  many  en- 
tirely practicable  opportunities  for  es- 
cape ;  but  all  failed,  even  with  the  exer- 
cise of  what  would  be  judged  as  the 
soundest  discretion  for  his  safety.  His 
return  to  the  Charlestown  jail,  his  memo- 
rable trial,  his  inevitable  conviction,  his 
only  cowardly  act  of  submitting  to  re- 
capture when  he  had  broken  out  of  his 
cell  a  few  hours  before  his  execution, 
and  his  final  execution  with  his  captive 
comrades,  are  familiar  to  all.  His  trial  at- 
tracted more  attention  than  that  of  any  of 
the  others,  because  of  the  prominent  men 
enlisted  in  his  cause,  and  of  the  special 
interest  felt  in  him  by  the  community 
in  and  about  Harper's  Ferry.  He  had 
taught  school  there  some  years  before, 
had  married  there,  and  his  return  as  one 
of  John  Brown's  raiders  to  kindle  the 
flames  of  slave  insurrection  intensified 
the  bitterness  of  the  people  against  him. 
From  the  28th  day  of  October,  1859, 
when  he  was  lodged  in  the  Charlestown 
jail,  until  the  last  act  of  the  tragedy, 
when  he  was  executed.  Cook  attracted 
the  larger  share  of  public  interest  in 
Harper's  Ferry,  much  as  Brown  out- 
stripped him  in  national  or  world-wide 
fame.  Governor  Willard.  the  Demo- 
cratic executive  of  Indiana,  appeared  in 
person  on  the  scene,  and  made  exhaus- 
tive efforts  to  save  his  wayward  but 
beloved  brother-in-law.  Daniel  W.  Voor- 
hees,  now  United  States  Senator  from 
Indiana,  was  then  attorney-general  of 
his  State  ;  and  his  devotion  to  his  party 


chief  made  him  excel  every  previous  or 
later  eff'ort  of  his  life  in  pleading  the 
utterly  hopeless  cause  of  the  brilliant 
little  Virginia  insurgent.  It  was  a  grand 
legal  and  forensic  battle  ;  but  there  was 
not  an  atom  of  law  to  aid  the  defence, 
and  public  sentiment  was  vehement  for 
the  atonement.  Viewed  in  the  clearer 
light  and  calmer  judgment  of  the  ex- 
perience of  a  quarter  of  a  century,  it 
would  have  been  wiser  and  better  had 
Virginia  treated  John  Brown  and  his 
corporal's  guard  of  madmen  as  hopeless 
lunatics  by  imprisonment  for  life,  as  was 
strongly  advised  by  confidential  counsels 
from  some  prominent  men  of  the  land 
whose  judgment  was  entitled  to  respect; 
but  Governor  Wise,  always  a  lover  of 
the  tempest,  made  a  dress-parade  bur- 
lesque of  justice,  and  on  the  16th  day 
of  December,  1859,  amidst  the  pomp 
and  parade  of  the  concentrated  power  of 
the  "  Mother  of  Presidents,"  John  E. 
Cook  paid  the  penalty  of  his  crime  on 
the  gallows.  No  demand  was  ever  made 
for  the  rendition  of  Cook's  companions 
who  had  escaped  from  Harper's  Ferry 
into  the  South  Mountain  with  him. 
Some  of  them  lived  in  Northern  Penn- 
sylvania without  concealment,  but  none 
thought  of  arresting  them.  A  few 
months  thereafter  the  long-threatening 
clouds  of  fraternal  war  broke  in  fury 
upon  the  country  ;  the  song  of  John 
Brown  inspired  great  armies  as  they 
swept  through  the  terrible  flame  of  bat- 
tle from  the  Father  of  Waters  to  the 
Southern  sea,  and  the  cause  that  made 
lawless  madmen  of  Brown  and  Cook 
at  Harper's  Ferry  crowned  the  republic 
with  universal  freedom  at  Appomattox. 
A.  K.  McClure. 


THE    WORST    MAN    IN    THE    TROOP. 


JUST  why  that  young  Irishman  should 
have  been  so  balefuUy  branded  was 
more  than  the  first  lieutenant  of  the 
troop  could  understand.  To  be  sure,  the 
lieutenant's   opportunities    for   observa- 


tion had  been  limited.  He  had  spent 
some  years  on  detached  service  in  the 
East,  and  had  joirfed  his  comrades  in 
Arizona  but  a  fortnight  ago,  and  here 
he  was  already  becoming  rapidly  initi- 


288 


THE    WORST  MAN  IN   THE    TROOP. 


[Sept. 


ated  in  the  science  of  scouting  through 
mountain-wilds  against  the  wariest  and 
most  treacherous  of  foemen, — the  Apa- 
ches of  our  Southwestern  territory. 

Coming,  as  he  had  done,  direct  from  a 
station  and  duties  where  full-dress  uni- 
form, lavish  expenditure  for  kid  gloves, 
bouquets,  and  Lubin's  extracts  were  mat- 
ters of  daily  fact,  it  must  be  admitted  that 
the  sensations  he  experienced  on  seeing 
his  detachment  equipped  for  the  scout 
were  those  of  mild  consternation.  That 
much  latitude  as  to  individual  dress  and 
equipment  was  permitted  he  had  previous- 
ly been  informed  ;  that  "  full  dress,"  and 
white  shirts,  collars,  and  the  like,  would 
be  left  at  home,  he  had  sense  enough  to 
know  ;  but  that  every  officer  and  man  in 
the  command  would  be  allowed  to  dis- 
card any  and  all  portions  of  the  regula- 
tion uniform  and  appear  rigged  out  in 
just  such  motley  guise  as  his  poetic  or 
practical  fancy  might  suggest,  had  never 
been  pointed  out  to  him  ;  and  that  he, 
commanding  his  troop  while  his  captain 
commanded  the  little  battalion,  could  by 
any  military  possibility  take  his  place  in 
front  of  his  men  without  his  sabre,  had 
never  for  an  instant  occurred  to  him. 
As  a  consequence,  when  he  bolted  into 
the  mess-room  shortly  after  daybreak  on 
a  bright  June  morning  with  that  im- 
posing but  at  most  times  useless  item  of 
cavalry  equipment  clanking  at  his  heels, 
the  lieutenant  gazed  with  some  astonish- 
ment upon  the  attire  of  his  brother-offi- 
cers there  assembled,  but  found  himself 
the  butt  of  much  good-natured  and  not 
over-witty  "  chaff,"  directed  partially  at 
the  extreme  newness  and  neatness  of  his 
dark-blue  flannel  scouting-shirt  and  high- 
top  boots,  but  more  especially  at  the  glit- 
tering sabre  swinging  from  his  waist- 
belt. 

"  Billings,"  said  Captain  Buxton  with 
much  solemnity,  "  while  you  have  prob- 
ably learned  through  the  columns  of  a 
horror-stricken  Eastern  press  that  we 
scalp,  alive  or  dead,  all  unfortunates  who 
fall  into  our  clutches,  I  assure  you  that 
even  for  that  purpose  the  cavalry-sabre 
has,  in  Arizona  at  least,  outlived  its 
usefulness.  It  is  too  long  and  clumsy, 
you  see.     What  you  really  want  for  the 


purpose  is  something  like  this," — and 
he  whipped  out  of  its  sheath  a  rusty 
but  keen-bladed  Mexican  ciichillo, — 
"  something  you  can  wield  with  a  deft 
turn  of  the  wrist,  you  know.  The  sabre 
is  apt  to  tear  and  mutilate  the  flesh, 
especially  when  you  use  both  hands." 
And  Captain  Buxton  winked  at  his 
other  subaltern  and  felt  that  he  had  said 
a  good  thing. 

But  Mr.  Billings  was  a  man  of  infinite 
good  nature  and  ready  adaptability  to 
the  society  or  circumstances  with  which 
he  might  be  surrounded.  "  Chaff"  was 
a  very  cheap  order  of  wit,  and  the 
serenity  of  his  disposition  enabled  him 
to  shake  off  its  effect  as  readily  as  water 
is  scattered  from  the  plumage  of  the 
duck. 

"  So  you  don't  wear  the  sabre  on  a 
scout  ?  So  much  the  better.  I  have  my 
_  revolvers  and  a  Sharp's  carbine,  but  am 
destitute  of  anything  in  the  knife  line." 
And  with  that  Mr.  Billings  betook  him- 
self to  the  duty  of  despatching  the  break- 
fast that  was  already  spread  before  him 
in  an  array  tempting  enough  to  a  fron- 
tier appetite,  but  little  designed  to  attract 
a  bon  vivant  of  civilization.  Bacon, 
frijoles^  and  creamless  coffee  speedily 
become  ambrosia  and  nectar  under  the 
influence  of  mountain-air  and  mountain- 
exercise  ;  but  Mr.  Billings  had  as  yet 
done  no  climbing.  A  "  buck  -  board" 
ride  had  been  his  means  of  transporta- 
tion to  the  garrison,  —  a  lonely  four- 
company  post  in  a  far-away  valley  in 
Northeastern  Arizona, — and  in  the  three 
or  four  days  of  intense  heat  that  had 
succeeded  his  arrival  exercise  of  any 
kind  had  been  out  of  the  question.  It 
was  with  no  especial  regret,  therefore, 
that  he  heard  the  summons  of  his  cap- 
tain, "  Hurry  up,  man  ;  we  must  be  off 
in  ten  minutes."  And  in  less  than  ten 
minutes  the  lieutenant  was  on  his  horse 
and  superintending  the  formation  of  his 
troop. 

If  Mr.  Billings  was  astonished  at  the 
garb  of  his  brother-officers  at  breakfast, 
he  was  simply  aghast  when  he  glanced 
along  the  line  of  Company  "  A"  (as  his 
command  was  at  that  time  officially  des- 
ignated) and  the  first  sergeant  rode  out 


1883.] 


THE    WORST  MAN  IN   THE    TROOP. 


289 


to  report  his  men  present  or  accounted 
for.  The  first  sergeant  himself  was  got 
up  in  an  old  gray-flannel  shirt,  open 
at  and  disclosing  a  broad,  brown  throat 
and  neck ;  his  head  was  crowned  with 
what  had  once  been  a  white  felt  som- 
brero, now  tanned  by  desert  sun,  wind, 
and  dirt  into  a  dingy  mud-color ;  his 
powerful  legs  were  encased  in  worn 
deer -skin  breeches  tucked  into  low- 
topped,  broad-soled,  well-greased  boots ; 
his  waist  was  girt  with  a  rude  "thimble- 
belt,"  in  the  loops  of  which  were  thrust 
scores  of  copper  cartridges  for  carbine 
and  pistol ;  his  carbine,  and  those  of  all 
the  command,  swung  in  a  leather  loop 
athwart  the  pommel  of  the  saddle ;  re- 
volvers in  all  manner  of  cases  hung  at 
the  hip,  the  regulation  holster,  in  most 
instances,  being  conspicuous  by  its  ab- 
sence. Indeed,  throughout  the  entire 
command  the  remarkable  fact  was  to  be 
noted  that  a  company  of  regular  cavalry, 
taking  the  field  against  hostile  Indians, 
had  discarded  pretty  much  every  item 
of  dress  or  equipment  prescribed  or  fur- 
nished by  the  authorities  of  the  United 
States,  and  had  supplied  themselves  with 
an  outfit  utterly  ununiform,  unpictu- 
resque,  undeniably  slouchy.  but  not  less 
undeniably  appropriate  and  serviceable. 
Not  a  forage-cap  was  to  be  seen,  not  a 
"  campaign-hat"  of  the  style  then  pre- 
scribed by  a  board  of  officers  that  might 
have  known  something  of  hats,  but  never 
could  have  had  an  idea  on  the  subject  of 
campaigns.  Fancy  that  black  enormity 
of  weighty  felt,  with  flapping  brim  well- 
nigh  a  foot  in  width,  absorbing  the  fiery 
heat  of  an  Arizona  sun,  and  concen- 
trating the  burning  rays  upon  the  cra- 
nium of  its  unhappy  wearer  !  No  such 
head-gear  would  our  troopers  suff"er  in 
the  days  when  General  Crook  led  them 
through  the  caiions  and  deserts  of  that 
inhospitable  Territory.  Regardless  of 
appearances  or  style  himself,  seeking 
only  comfort  in  his  dress,  the  chief 
speedily  found  means  to  indicate  that, 
in  Apache-campaigning  at  least,  it  was 
to  be  a  case  of  '■'■inter  arma  silent  leges'^ 
in  dead  earnest ;  for,  freely  translated, 
the  old  saw  read,  "  No  red-tape  when 
Indian-fightincf." 


Of  much  of  this  Lieutenant  Billings 
was  only  partially  informed,  and  so,  as 
has  been  said,  he  was  aghast  when  he 
marked  the  utter  absence  of  uniform 
and  the  decidedly  variegated  appearance 
of  his  troop.  Deer-skin,  buckskin,  can- 
vas, and  flannels,  leggings,  moccasins, 
and  the  like,  constituted  the  bill  of 
dress,  and  old  soft  felt  hats,  originally 
white,  the  head-gear.  If  spurs  were 
worn  at  all,  they  were  of  the  Mexican 
variety,  easy  to  kick  oiF,  but  sure  to  stay 
on  when  wanted.  Only  two  men  wore 
carbine  sUng-belts,  and  Mr.  Billings 
was  almost  ready  to  hunt  up  his  captain 
and  inquire  if  by  any  possibility  the 
men  could  be  attempting  to  "  put  up  a 
joke  on  him,"  when  the  captain  himself 
appeared,  looking  little  if  any  more  like 
the  ideal  soldier  than  his  men,  and  the 
perfectly  satisfied  expression  on  his 
face  as  he  rode  easily  around,  examining 
closely  the  horses  of  the  command,  pay- 
ing especial  attention  to  their  feet  and 
the  shoes  thereof,  convinced  the  lieu- 
tenant that  all  was  as  it  was  expected  to 
be,  if  not  as  it  should  be,  and  he  swal- 
lowed his  surprise  and  held  his  peace. 
Another  moment,  and  Captain  Wayne's 
troop  came  filing  past  in  column  of  twos, 
looking,  if  anything,  rougher  than  his 
own. 

"  You  follow  right  after  Wayne," 
said  Captain  Buxton  ;  and  with  no  fur- 
ther formality  Mr.  Billings,  in  a  per- 
functory sort  of  way,  wheeled  his  men 
to  the  right  by  fours,  broke  into  column 
of  twos,  and  closed  up  on  the  leading 
troop. 

Buxton  was  in  high  glee  on  this  par- 
ticular morning  in  June.  He  had  done 
very  little  Indian  scouting,  had  been 
but  moderately  successful  in  what  he 
had  undertaken,  and  now,  as  luck  would 
have  it,  the  necessity  arose  for  sending 
something  more  formidable  than  a  mere 
detachment  down  into  the  Tonto  Basin, 
in  search  of  a  powerful  band  of  Apaches 
who  had  broken  loose  from  the  reserva- 
tion and  were  taking  refuge  in  the  foot- 
hills of  the  Black  Mesa  or  among  the 
wilds  of  the  Sierra  Ancha.  As  senior 
captain  of  the  two,  Buxton  became 
commander   of   the    entire   force, — two 


290 


THE    WORST  MAN  IN  THE    TROOP. 


[Sept. 


well-filled  troops  of  regular  cavalry, 
some  thirty  Indian  allies  as  scouts,  and  a 
goodly-sized  train  of  pack-mules,  with 
its  full  complement  of  packers,  carga- 
dors,  and  blacksmiths.  He  fully  anti- 
cipated a  lively  fight,  possibly  a  series 
of  them,  and  a  triumphant  return  to 
his  post,  w'here  hereafter  he  would  be 
looked  up  to  and  quoted  as  an  expert 
and  authority  on  Apache-fighting.  He 
knew  just  where  the  hostiles  lay,  and 
was  going  straight  to  the  point  to  flatten 
them  out  forthwith;  and  so  the  little 
command  moved  ofi"  under  admirable 
auspices  and  in  the  best  of  spirits. 

It  was  a  four-days'  hard  march  to  the 
locality  where  Captain  Buxton  counted  on 
finding  his  victims ;  and  when  on  the 
fourth  day,  rather  tired  and  not  particular- 
ly enthusiastic,  the  command  bivouacked 
along  the  banks  of  a  mountain-torrent, 
a  safe  distance  from  the  supposed  loca- 
tion of  the  Indian  stronghold,  he  sent 
forward  his  Apache  Mojave  allies  to 
make  a  stealthy  reconnoissance,  feeling 
confident  that  soon  after  nightfall  they 
would  return  with  the  intelligence  that 
the  enemy  were  lazily  resting  in  their 
rancheria,  all  unsuspicious  of  his  ap- 
proach, and  that  at  daybreak  he  would 
pounce  upon  and  annihilate  them. 

Soon  after  nightfall  the  scouts  did  re- 
turn, but  their  intelligence  was  not  so 
gratifying  :  a  small — a  ve7y  small — band 
of  renegades  had  been  encamped  in  that 
vicinity  some  weeks  before,  but  not  a 
"hostile"  or  sign  of  a  hostile  was  to  be 
found.  Captain  Buxton  hardly  slept 
that  night,  from  disappointment  and 
mortification,  and  when  he  went  the  fol- 
lowing day  to  investigate  for  himself  he 
found  that  he  had  been  on  a  false  scent 
from  the  start,  and  this  made  him  crab- 
bed. A  week's  hunt  through  the  moun- 
tains resulted  in  no  better  luck,  and  now, 
having  had  only  fifteen  days'  rations  at 
the  outset,  he  was  most  reluctantly  and 
savagely  marching  homeward  to  report 
his  failure. 

But  Mr.  Billings  had  enjoyed  the 
entire  trip.  Sleeping  in  the  open  air 
without  other  shelter  than  their  blankets 
aff"orded,  scouting  by  day  in  single  file 
over  miles  of  mere  game-trails,  up  hill 


and  down  dale  through  the  wildest  and 
most  dolefully-picturesque  scenery  he  at 
least  had  ever  beheld,  under  frowning 
clifis  and  beetling  crags,  through  dense 
forests  of  pine  and  juniper,  through 
mountain-torrents  swollen  with  the  melt- 
ing snows  of  the  crests  so  far  above 
them,  through  caiions,  deep,  dark,  and 
gloomy,  searching  ever  for  traces  of  the 
foe  they  were  ordered  to  find  and  fight 
forthwith,  Mr.  Billings  and  his  men, 
having  no  responsibility  upon  their 
shoulders,  were  happy  and  healthy  as 
possible,  and  consequently  in  small  sym- 
pathy with  their  irate  leader. 

Every  afternoon  when  they  halted 
beside  some  one  of  the  hundreds  of 
mountain-brooks  that  came  tumbling 
down  from  the  gorges  of  the  Black 
Mesa,  the  men  were  required  to  look 
carefully  at  the  horses'  backs  and  feet, 
for  mountain  Arizona  is  terrible  on 
shoes,  equine  or  human.  This  had  to 
be  done  before  the  herds  were  turned 
out  to  graze  with  their  guard  around 
them  ;  and  often  some  of  the  men  would 
get  a  wisp  of  straw  or  a  suitable  wipe  of 
some  kind,  and  thoroughly  rub  down 
their  steeds.  Strolling  about  among 
them,  as  he  always  did  at  this  time,  our 
lieutenant  had  noticed  a  slim  but  trimly- 
built  young  Irishman  whose  care  of 
and  devotion  to  his  horse  it  did  him 
good  to  see.  No  matter  how  long  the 
march,  how  severe  the  fatigue,  that 
horse  was  always  looked  after,  his  gra- 
zing-ground  pre-empted  by  a  deftly- 
thrown  picket-pin  and  lariat  which  se- 
cured to  him  all  the  real  estate  that  could 
be  surveyed  within  the  circle  of  which 
the  pin  was  the  centre  and  the  lariat  the 
radius-vector. 

Between  horse  and  master  the  closest 
comradeship  seemed  to  exist ;  the 
trooper  had  a  way  of  softly  singing  or 
talking  to  his  friend  as  he  rubbed  him 
down,  and  Mr.  Billings  was  struck  with 
the  expression  and  taste  with  which  the 
little  soldier — for  he  was  only  five  feet 
five — would  render  "  Molly  Bawn"  and 
"  Kitty  Tyrrell."  Except  when  thus 
singing  or  exchanging  confidences  with 
his  steed,  he  was  strangely  silent  and 
reserved ;  he  ate  his  rations  among  the 


1883.] 


THE    WORST  MAN  IN   THE    TROOP. 


291 


other  men,  yet  rarely  spoke  with  them, 
and  he  would  ride  all  day  through  coun- 
try marvellous  for  wild  beauty  and  be 
the  only  man  in  the  command  who  did 
not  allow  himself  to  give  vent  to  some 
expression  of  astonishment  or  delight. 

"What  is  that  man's  name?"  asked 
Mr.  Billings  of  the  first  sergeant  one 
evening. 

"  O'Grady,  sir,"  replied  the  sergeant, 
with  his  soldierly  salute ;  and  a  little 
later,  as  Captain  Buxton  was  fretfully 
complaining  to  his  subaltern  of  the  ill 
fortune  that  seemed  to  overshadow  his 
best  efforts,  the  latter,  thinking  to  cheer 
him  and  to  divert  his  attention  from  his 
trouble,  referred  to  the  troop  : 

"Why,  captain,  I  don't  think  I  ever 
saw  a  finer  set  of  men  than  you  have — 
anywhere.  Now,  there's  a  little  fellow 
who  strikes  me  as  being  a  perfect  light- 
cavalry  soldier."  And  the  lieutenant  in- 
dicated his  young  Irishman. 

"  You  don't  mean  O'Grady  ?"  asked 
the  captain  in  surprise. 

"  Yes,  sir, — the  very  one." 

"  Why,  he's  the  worst  man  in  the 
troop." 

For  a  moment  Mr.  Billings  knew  not 
what  to  say.  His  captain  had  spoken 
with  absolute  harshness  and  dislike  in 
his  tone  of  the  one  soldier  of  all  others 
who  seemed  to  be  the  most  quiet,  atten- 
tive, and  alert  of  the  troop.  He  had 
noticed,  too,  that  the  sergeants  and  the 
men  generally,  in  speaking  to  O'Grady, 
were  wont  to  fall  into  a  kindlier  tone 
than  usual,  and,  though  they  some- 
times squabbled  among  themselves  over 
the  choice  of  patches  of  grass  for  their 
horses,  O'Grady's  claim  was  never 
questioned,  much  less  "  jumped."  Re- 
spect for  his  superior's  rank  would  not 
permit  the  lieutenant  to  argue  the  mat- 
ter ;  but,  desiring  to  know  more  about 
the  case,  he  spoke  again : 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  it.  His 
care  of  his  horse  and  his  quiet  ways 
impressed  me  so  favorably." 

"  Oh,  yes,  d — n  him  !"  broke  in  Cap- 
tain Buxton.  "  Horses  and  whiskey 
are  the  only  things  on  earth  he  cares 
for.  As  to  quiet  ways,  there  isn't  a 
worse  devil  at  large  than  O'Grady  with 


a  few  drinks  in  him.  When  I  came 
back  from  two  years'  recruiting  detail  he 
was  a  sergeant  in  the  troop.  I  never 
knew  him  before,  but  I  soon  found  he 
was  addicted  to  drink,  and  after  a  while 
had  to  '  break'  him  ;  and  one  night  when 
he  was  raising  hell  in  the  quarters,  and 
I  ordered  him  into  the  dark  cell,  he 
turned  on  me  like  a  tiger.  By  Jove ! 
if  it  hadn't  been  for  some  of  the  men 
he  would  have  killed  me, — or  I  him. 
He  was  tried  by  court-martial,  but  most 
of  the  detail  was  made  up  of  infantry- 
men    and    staff-officers    from     Crook's 

head-quarters,  and,  by !  they  didn't 

seem  to  think  it  any  sin  for  a  soldier  to 
threaten  to  cut  his  captain's  heart  out, 
and  Crook  himself  gave  me  a  sort  of  a 
rap  in  his  remarks  on  the  case,  and — 
well,  they  just  let  O'Grady  off  scot-free 
between  them,  gave  him  some  little  fine, 
and  did  more  harm  than  good.  He's 
just  as  surly  and  insolent  now  when  I 
speak  to  him  as  he  was  that  night  when 
drunk.  Here,  I'll  show  you."  And  with 
that  Captain  Buxton  started  ofi"  toward 
the  herd,  Mr.  Billings  obediently  foUow- 
ins,  but  feeling  vaguely  ill  at  ease.  He 
had  never  met  Captain  Buxton  before  ; 
but  letters  from  his  comrades  had  pre- 
pared him  for  experiences  not  altogether 
pleasant.  A  good  soldier  in  some  re- 
spects, Captain  Buxton  bore  the  reputa- 
tion of  having  an  almost  ungovernable 
temper,  of  being  at  times  brutally  vio- 
lent in  his  language  and  conduct  toward 
his  men,  and,  worse  yet,  of  bearing  ill- 
concealed  malice,  and  "  nursing  his 
wrath  to  keep  it  warm"  against  such  of 
his  enlisted  men  as  had  ever  ventured  to 
appeal  for  justice.  The  captain  stopped 
on  reaching  the  outskirts  of  the  quietly- 
grazing  herd. 

"  Corporal,"  said  he  to  the  non-com- 
missioned officer  in  charge,  "  isn't  that 
O'Grady's  horse  off  there  to  the  left?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Go  and  tell  O'Grady  to  come  here." 

The  corporal  saluted  and  went  off  on 
his  errand. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Billings,"  said  the  cap- 
tain, "  I  have  repeatedly  given  orders 
that  my  horses  must  be  side-lined  when 
we  are  in  the  hostiles'   country.     Just 


292 


THE    WORST  MAN  IN   THE    TROOP. 


[Sept. 


come  here  to  the  left."  And  he  walked 
over  toward  a  handsome,  sturdy  little 
California  horse  of  a  bright  bay  color. 
"  Here,  you  see,  is  O'Grady's  horse,  and 
not  a  side-line :  that's  his  way  of  obey- 
ing orders.  More  than  that,  he  is  never 
content  to  have  his  horse  in  among  the 
others,  but  must  always  get  away  outside, 
just  where  he  is  most  apt  to  be  run  oiF 
by  any  Indian  sharp  and  quick  enough 
to  dare  it.  Now,  here  comes  0' Grady. 
Watch  him,  if  you  want  to  see  him  in 
his  true  light." 

Standing  beside  his  superior,  Mr. 
Billings  looked  toward  the  approaching 
trooper,  who,  with  a  quick,  springy  step, 
advanced  to  within  a  few  yards  of  them, 
there  stopped  short,  and,  erect  and  in 
silence,  raised  his  hand  in  salute,  and 
with  perfectly  respectful  demeanor 
looked  straight  at  his  captain. 

In  a  voice  at  once  harsh  and  distinctly 
audible  over  the  entire  bivouac,  with 
frowning  brow  and  angry  eyes,  Buxton 
demanded, — 

"  O'Grady,  where  are  your  side- 
lines?" 

"  Over  with  my  blankets,  sir." 

"  Over  with  your  blankets,  are  they? 

Why  in  ,  sir,  are  they  not  here  on 

your  horse,  where  they  ought  to  be?" 
And  the  captain's  voice  waxed  harsher 
and  louder,  and  his  manner  more 
threatening. 

"  I  understood  the  captain's  orders  to 
be  that  they  need  not  go  on  till  sunset," 
replied  the  soldier  calmly  and  respect- 
fully, "  and  I  don't  like  to  put  them  on 
that  sore  place,  sir,  until  the  last  mo- 
ment." 

"Don't  like  to?  No  sir,  I  know 
d — d  well  you  don't  like  to  obey  this  or 
any  other  order  I  ever  gave,  and  wher- 
ever you  find  a  loop-hole  through  which 
to  crawl,  and  you  think  you  can  sneak 
oiF  unpunished,  by  !  sir,  I  sup- 
pose you  will  go  on  disobeying  orders. 
Shut  up,  sir!  not  a  d — d  word!"  for 
tears  of  mortification  were  starting  to 
O'Grady's  eyes,  and  with  flushing  face 
and  trembling  lip  the  soldier  stood  help- 
lessly before  his  troop-commander,  and 
was  striving  to  say  a  word  in  further 
explanation. 


"  Go  and  get  your  side-lines  at  once 
and  bring  them  here ;  go  at  once,  sir," 
shouted  the  captain ;  and  with  a  lump 
in  his  throat  the  trooper  saluted,  faced 
about,  and  walked  away. 

"  He's  milder-mannered  than  usual, 
d — n  him  !"  said  the  captain,  turning 
toward  his  subaltern,  who  had  stood  a 
silent  and  pained  witness  of  the  scene. 
"  He  knows  he  is  in  the  wrong  and  has 
no  excuse ;  but  he'll  break  out  yet. 
Come !  step  out,  you  O'Grady !"  he 
yelled  after  the  rapidly-walking  soldier. 
"  Double  time,  sir.  I  can't  wait  here 
all  night."  And  Mr.  Billings  noted 
that  silence  had  fallen  on  the  bivouac  so 
full  of  soldier-chaff  and  laughter  but  a 
moment  before,  and  that  the  men  of 
both  troops  were  intently  watching  the 
scene  already  so  painful  to  him. 

Obediently  O'Grady  took  up  the 
"dog-trot"  required  of  him,  got  his 
side-lines,  and,  running  back,  knelt  be- 
side his  horse,  and  with  trembling 
hands  adjusted  them,  during  which  per- 
formance Captain  Buxton  stood  over 
him,  and,  in  a  tone  that  grew  more  and 
more  that  of  a  bully  as  he  lashed  him- 
self up  into  a  rage,  continued  his  lec- 
ture to  the  man. 

The  latter  finally  rose,  and,  with  huge 
beads  of  perspiration  starting  out  on  his 
forehead,  faced  his  captain. 

"  May  I  say  a  word,  sir?"  he  asked. 

"  You  may  now  ;  but  be  d — d  careful 
how  you  say  it,"  was  the  reply,  with  a 
sneer  that  would  have  stung  an  abject 
slave  into  a  longing  for  revenge,  and 
that  grated  on  Mr.  Billings's  nerves  in  a 
way  that  made  him  clinch  his  fists  and 
involuntarily  grit  his  teeth.  Could  it  be 
that  O'Grady  detected  it  ?  Already  the 
men  had  "  taken  the  measure"  of  this 
even  -  tempered,  kindly  -  voiced  young 
West-Pointer,  and  begun  to  like  him. 
One  quick,  wistful,  half  -  appealing 
glance  flashed  from  the  Irishman's  eyes 
toward  the  subaltern,  and  then,  with 
evident  eff"ort  at  composure,  but  with 
a  voice  that  trembled  with  the  pent-up 
sense  of  wrong  and  injustice,  O'Grady 
spoke  : 

"  Indeed,  sir,  I  had  no  thought  of 
neglecting  orders.     I  always  care  for  my 


1883.] 


THE    WORST  MAN  IN   THE    TROOP. 


293 


horse  ;  but  it  wasn't  sunset  when  the 
captain  came  out — " 

"  Not  sunset !"  broke  in  Buxton,  with 
an  outburst  of  profanity.  "  Not  sunset ! 
why,  it's  wellnigh  dark  now,  sir,  and 
every  man  in  the  troop  had  side-lined 
his  horse  half  an  hour  ago.  D — n 
your  insolence,  sir !  your  excuse  is  worse 
than  your  conduct.  Mr.  Billings,  see  to 
it,  sir,  that  this  man  walks  and  leads  his 
horse  in  rear  of  the  troop  all  the  way 

back  to   the  post.     I'll  see,  by  ! 

whether  he  can  be  taught  to  obey  orders." 
And  with  that  the  captain  turned  and 
strode  away. 

The  lieutenant  stood  for  an  instant 
stunned, — simply  stunned.  Involuntarily 
he  made  a  step  toward  O'Grady  ;  their 
eyes  met ;  but  the  restraint  of  discipline 
was  upon  both.  In  that  brief  meeting 
of  their  glances,  however,  the  trooper 
read  a  message  that  was  unmistakable. 

"  Lieutenant, — "  he  said,  but  stopped 
abruptly,  pointed  aloft  over  the  trees 
to  the  eastward  with  his  right  hand, 
dashed  it  across  his  eyes,  and  then,  with 
hurried  salute  and  a  choking  sort  of 
gurgle  in  his  throat,  he  turned  and  went 
back  to  his  comrades. 

Mr.  Billings  gazed  after  the  retreating 
form  until  it  disappeared  among  the 
trees  by  the  brook-side  ;  then  he  turned 
to  see  what  was  the  meaning  of  the 
soldier's  pointing  over  toward  the  mesa 
to  the  east. 

Down  in  the  deep  valley  in  which  the 
little  command  had  halted  for  the  night 
the  pall  of  darkness  had  indeed  begun 
to.  settle  ;  the  bivouac-fires  in  the  timber 
threw  a  lurid  glare  upon  the  groups 
gathering  around  them  for  supper,  and 
toward  the  west  the  rugged  upheavals  of 
the  Mazatzal  range  stood  like  a  black 
barrier  against  the  glorious  hues  of  a 
bank  of  summer  cloud.  All  in  the 
valley  spoke  of  twilight  and  darkness  : 
the  birds  were  still,  the  voices  of  the 
men  subdued.  So  far  as  local  indica- 
tions were  concerned,  it  tvas — as  Cap- 
tain Buxton  had  insisted — almost  dark. 
But  square  over  the  gilded  tree-tops 
to  the  east,  stretching  for  miles  and 
miles  to  their  right  and  left,  blazed  a 
vertical  wall  of  rock  crested  with  scrub- 


oak  and  pine,  every  boulder,  every  tree, 
glittering  in  the  radiant  light  of  the 
invisibly  setting  sun.  O'Grady  had  not 
disobeyed  his  orders. 

Noting  this,  Mr.  Billings  proceeded  to 
take  a  leisurely  stroll  through  the  peace- 
ful herd,  carefully  inspecting  each  horse 
as  he  passed.  As  a  result  of  his  scru- 
tiny, he  found  that,  while  most  of  the 
horses  were  already  encumbered  with 
their  annoying  hobble,  in  "  A"  troop 
alone  there  were  at  least  a  dozen  still 
unfettered,  notably  the  mounts  of  the 
non-commissioned  officers  and  the  older 
soldiers.  Like  O'Grady,  they  did  not 
wish  to  inflict  the  side-line  upon  their 
steeds  until  the  last  moment.  Unlike 
O'Grady,  they  had  not  been  called  to 
account  for  it. 

When  Mr.  Billings  was  summoned  to 
supper,  and  he  rejoined  his  brother-ofti- 
cers,  it  was  remarked  that  he  was 
more  taciturn  than  usual.  After  that 
repast  had  been  appreciatively  disposed 
of,  and  the  little  group  with  lighted 
pipes  prepared  to  spend  an  hour  in  chat 
and  contentment,  it  was  observed  that 
Mr.  Billings  did  not  take  part  in  the 
general  talk,  but  that  he  soon  rose,  and, 
out  of  ear-shot  of  the  oificers'  camp-fire, 
paced  restlessly  up  and  down,  with  his 
head  bent  forward,  evidently  plunged  in 
thought. 

By  and  by  the  half-dozen  broke  up 
and  sought  their  blankets.  Captain 
Buxton,  somewhat  mollified  by  a  good 
supper,  was  about  rolling  into  his  navajo, 
when  Mr.  Billings  stepped  up  : 

"  Captain,  may  I  ask  for  information 
as  to  the  side-line  order?  After  you 
left  this  evening,  I  found  that  there 
must  be  some  misunderstanding  about  it." 

"  How  so?"  said  Buxton  shortly. 

"  In  this,  captain  ;"  and  Mr.  Billings 
spoke  very  calmly  and  distinctly.  "  The 
first  sergeant,  several  other  non-commis- 
sioned oflQcers  and  men, — more  than  a 
dozen,  I  should  say, — did  not  side-line 
their  horses  until  half  an  hour  after  you 
spoke  to  0  Grady,  and  the  first  sergeant 
assured  me,  when  I  called  him  to  account 
for  it,  that  your  orders  were  that  it 
should  be  done  at  sunset." 

"  Well,  by !  it  was  after  sunset 


294 


THE    WORST  MAN   IN   THE    TROOP. 


[Sept. 


— at  least  it  was  getting  mighty  dark — 
when  I  sent  for  that  blackguard  O'Grady," 
said  Buxton  impetuously,  "  and  there  is 
no  excuse  for  the  rest  of  them." 

"  It  was  beginning  to  grow  dark 
down  in  this  deep  valley,  I  know,  sir ; 
but  the  tree-tops  were  in  a  broad  glare 
of  sunlight  while  we  were  at  the  herd, 
and  those  cliffs  for  half  an  hour  longer." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Billings,  I  don't  propose 
to  have  any  hair-splitting  in  the  manage- 
ment of  my  troop,"  said  the  captain, 
manifestly  nettled.  "  It  was  practically 
sunset  to  us  when  the  light  began 
to  grow  dim,  and  my  men  know  it  well 
enough."  And  with  that  he  rolled  over 
and  turned  his  back  to  his  subaltern. 

Disregarding  the  broad  hint  to  leave, 
Mr.  Billings  again  spoke  : 

"Is  it  your  wish,  sir,  that  any  pun- 
ishment should  be  imposed  on  the  men 
who  were  equally  in  fault  with  O'Grady?" 

Buxton  muttered  something  unintel- 
ligible from  under  his  blankets. 

"  I  did  not  understand  you,  sir,"  said 
the  lieutenant  very  civilly. 

Buxton  savagely  propped  himself  up 
on  one  elbow,  and  blurted  out, — 

"No,  Mr.  Billings!  no!  When  I 
want  a  man  punished  I'll  give  the  order 
myself,  sir." 

"  And  is  it  still  your  wish,  sir,  that' 
I  make  O'Grady  walk  the  rest  of  the 
way?" 

For  a  moment  Buxton  hesitated  ;  his 
better  nature  struggled  to  assert  itself 
and  induce  him  to  undo  the  injustice  of 
his  order ;  but  the  "  cad"  in  his  disposi- 
tion, the  weakness  of  his  character,  pre- 
vailed. It  would  never  do  to  let  his 
lieutenant  get  the  upper  hand  of  him, 
he  argued,  and  so  the  reply  came,  and 
came  angrily  : 

"  Yes,  of  course  ;  he  deserves  it  any- 
how, by !  and  it'll  do  him  good." 

Without  another  word  Mr.  Billings 
turned  on  his  heel  and  left  him. 

The  command  returned  to  garrison, 
shaved  its  stubbly  beard  of  two  weeks' 
growth,  and  resumed  its  uniform  and  the 
routine  duties  of  the  post.  Three  days 
only  had  it  been  back  when  Mr.  Bill- 
ings, marching  on  as  officer  of  the  day, 
and    receiving   the   prisoners    from    his 


predecessor,  was  startled  to  hear  the  list 
of  names  wound  up  with  "  O'Grady," 
and  when  that  name  was  called  there 
was  no  response. 

The  old  officer  of  the  day  looked  up 
inquiringly :  "  Where  is  O'Grady,  ser- 
geant?" 

"  In  the  cell,  sir,  unable  to  come  out." 

"  O'Grady  was  confined  by  Captain 
Buxton's  order  late  last  night,"  said 
Captain  Wayne,  "  and  I  fancy  the  poor 
fellow  has  been  drinking  heavily  this 
time." 

A  few  minutes  after,  the  reliefs  being 
told  off,  the  prisoners  sent  out  to  work, 
and  the  officers  of  the  day,  new  and  old, 
having  made  their  reports  to  the  com- 
manding officer,  Mr.  Billings  returned 
to  the  guard-house,  and,  directing  his 
sergeant  to  accompany  him,  proceeded 
to  make  a  deliberate  inspection  of  the 
premises.  The  guard-room  itself  was 
neat,  clean,  and  dry;  the  garrison  prison- 
room  was  well  ventilated,  and  tidy  as  such 
rooms  ever  can  be  made ;  the  Indian 
prison-room,  despite  the  fact  that  it  was 
empty  and  every  shutter  was  thrown 
wide  open  to  the  breeze,  had  that  indefi- 
nable, suffocating  odor  which  continued 
aboriginal  occupancy  will  impart  to  any 
apartment ;  but  it  was  the  cells  Mr. 
Billings  desired  to  see,  and  the  sergeant 
led  him  to  a  row  of  heavily-barred 
doors  of  rough  unplaned  timber,  with  a 
little  grating  in  each,  and  from  one  of 
these  gratings  there  peered  forth  a  pair 
of  feverishly-glittering  eyes,  and  a  face, 
not  bloated  and  flushed,  as  with  recent 
and  heavy  potations,  but  white,  haggard, 
twitching,  and  a  husky  voice  in  piteous 
appeal  addressed  the  sergeant : 

"  Oh,  for  God's  sake,  Billy,  get  me 
something,  or  it'll  kill  me!" 

"  Hush,  O'Grady,"  said  the  sergeant : 
"  here's  the  officer  of  the  day." 

Mr.  Billings  took  one  look  at  the  wan 
face  only  dimly  visible  in  that  prison- 
light,  for  the  poor  little  man  shrank 
back  as  he  recognized  the  form  of  his 
lieutenant : 

"  Open  that  door,  sergeant." 

With  alacrity  the  order  was  obeyed, 
and  the  heavy  door  swung  back  upon  its 
hinties. 


1883.] 


THE     WORST  MAN  IN   THE    TROOP. 


295 


"  O'Grady,"  said  the  officer  of  the  day 
in  a  tone  gentle  as  that  he  would  have 
employed  in  speaking  to  a  woman, 
"  come  out  here  to  me.  I'm  afraid  you 
are  sick." 

Shaking,  trembling,  twitching  in  every 
limb,  with  wild,  dilated  eyes  and  almost 
palsied  step,  O'Grady  came  out. 

"  Look  to  him  a  moment,  sergeant," 
said  Mr.  Billings,  and,  bending  low,  he 
stepped  into  the  cell.  The  atmosphere 
was.  stifling,  and  in  another  instant  he 
backed  out  into  the  hall-way.  "  Ser- 
geant, was  it  by  the  commanding  offi- 
cer's order  that  O'Grady  was  put  in 
there?" 

"  No,  sir  ;  Captain  Buxton's." 

"  See  that  he  is  not  returned  there 
during  my  tour,  unless  the  orders  come 
from  the  colonel.  Bring  O'Grady  into 
the  prison-room." 

Here  in  the  purer  air  and  brighter 
light  he  looked  carefully  over  the  poor 
fellow,  as  the  latter  stood  before  him 
quivering  from  head  to  foot  and  hiding 
his  face  in  his  .shaking  hands.  Then  the 
lieutenant  took  him  gently  by  the  arm 
and  led  him  to  a  bunk  : 

"  O'Grady,  man,  lie  down  here.  I'm 
going  to  get  something  that  will  help 
you.  Tell  me  one  thing  :  how  long  had 
you  been  drinking  before  you  were 
confined  ?" 

"  About  forty-eight  hours,  sir,  oif  and 
on." 

"  How  long  since  you  ate  anything  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,  sir  ;  not  for  two  days, 
I  think." 

"  Well,  try  and  lie  still.  I'm  coming 
back  to  you  in  a  very  few  minutes." 

And  with  that  Mr.  Billings  strode 
from  the  room,  leaving  O'Grady,  dazed, 
wonder-stricken,  gazing  stupidly  after 
him. 

The  lieutenant  went  straight  to  his 
quarters,  took  a  goodly-sized  goblet  from 
the  painted  pine  side-board,  and  with 
practised  hand  proceeded  to  mix  therein 
a  beverage  in  which  granulated  sugar, 
Angostura  bitters,  and  a  few  drops  of 
lime  juice  entered  as  minor  ingredients, 
and  the  coldest  of  spring -water  and  a 
brimming  measure  of  whiskey  as  con- 
stitutents  of  greater  quality  and  quan- 


tity. Filling  with  this  mixture  a  small 
leather  -  covered  flask,  and  stowing  it 
away  within  the  breast-pocket  of  his 
blouse,  he  returned  to  the  guard-house, 
musing  as  he  went,  "  '  If  this  be  trea- 
son,' said  Patrick  Henry,  '  make  the 
most  of  it.'  If  this  be  conduct  preju- 
dicial, etc.,  say  I,  do  your  d — dest. 
That  man  would  be  in  the  horrors  of 
jim-jams  in  half  an  hour  more  if  it  were 
not  for  this."  And,  so  saying  to  him- 
self, he  entered  the  prison-room,  called 
to  the  sergeant  to  bring  him  some  cold 
water,  and  then  approached  O'Grady, 
who  rose  unsteadily  and  strove  to  stand 
attention,  but  the  effort  was  too  much, 
and  again  he  covered  his  face  with  his 
arms,  and  threw  himself  in  utter  misery 
at  the  foot  of  the  bunk. 

Mr.  Billings  drew  the  flask  from  his 
pocket,  and,  touching  O'Grady's  shoul- 
der, caused  him  to  raise  his  head  : 

"  Drink  this,  my  lad.  I  would  not 
give  it  to  you  at  another  time,  but  you 
need  it  now." 

Eagerly  it  was  seized,  eagerly  drained, 
and  then,  after  he  had  swallowed  a  long 
draught  of  the  water,  0  Grady  slowly  rose 
to  his  feet,  looking,  with  eyes  rapidly 
softening  and  losing  their  wild  glare, 
upon  the  young  officer  who  stood  before 
him.  Once  or  twice  he  passed  his  hands 
across  his  forehead,  as  though  to  sweep 
away  the  cobwebs  that  pressed  upon  his 
brain,  but  for  a  moment  he  did  not  essay 
a  word.  Little  by  little  the  color  crept 
back  to  his  cheek ;  and,  noting  this,  Mr. 
Billings  smiled  very  quietly,  and  said, 
"  Now,  O'Grady,  lie  down ;  you  will  be 
able  to  sleep  now  until  the  men  come  in 
at  noon  ;  then  you  shall  have  another 
drink,  and  you'll  be  able  to  eat  what  I 
send  you.  If  you  cannot  sleep,  call  the 
sergeant  of  the  guard  ;  or  if  you  want 
anything,  I'll  come  to  you." 

Then,  with  tears  starting  to  his  eyes, 
the  soldier  found  words  :  "  I  thank  the 
lieutenant.  If  I  live  a  thousand  years, 
sir,  this  will  never  be  forgotten, — never, 
sir  !  I'd  have  gone  crazy  without  your 
help,  sir." 

Mr,  Billings  held  out  his  hand, 
and,  taking  that  of  his  prisoner,  gave 
it  a   cordial  grip  :      "  That's   all  right. 


296 


THE    WORST  MAN  IN   THE    TROOP. 


[Sept. 


O'Grady.  Try  to  sleep  now,  and  we'll 
pull  you  through.  Good-by,  for  the 
present."  And,  with  a  heart  lighter, 
somehow,  than  it  had  been  of  late,  the 
lieutenant  left. 

At  noon  that  day,  when  the  prisoners 
came  in  from  labor  and  the  officer  of  the 
day  inspected  their  general  condition 
before  permitting  them  to  go  to  their 
dinner,  the  sergeant  of  the  guard  in- 
formed him  that  O'Grady  had  slept 
quietly  almost  all  the  morning,  but  was 
then  awake  and  feeling  very  much  better, 
though  still  weak  and  nervous. 

"  Do  you  think  he  can  walk  over  to 
my  quarters?"  asked  Mr.  Billings. 

"  He  will  try  it,  sir,  or  anything  the 
lieutenant  wants  him  to  try.'' 

"  Then  send  him  over  in  about  ten 
minutes." 

Home  once  more,  Mr.  Billings  started 
a  tiny  blaze  in  his  oil-stove,  and  soon  had 
a  kettle  of  water  boiling  merrily.  Sharp 
to  time  a  member  of  the  guard  tapped  at 
the  door,  and,  on  being  bidden  "  Come 
in,"  entered,  ushering  in  O'Grady  ;  but 
meantime,  by  the  aid  of  a  little  pot  of 
meat-juice  and  some  cayenne  pepper, 
a  glass  of  hot  soup  or  beef- tea  had  been 
prepared,  and,  with  some  dainty  slices  of 
potted  chicken  and  the  accompaniments 
of  a  cup  of  fragrant  tea  and  some  ship- 
biscuit,  was  in  readiness  on  a  little  table 
in  the  back  room.  Mr.  Billings,  it  has 
been  hinted,  was  something  of  an  epi- 
cure in  his  quiet  way,  and  his  side- 
board was  never  destitute  of  some  deli- 
cacy or  luxury  "  the  mess"  could  not 
supply. 

Telling  the  sentinel  to  remain  in  the 
shade  on  the  piazza,  the  lieutenant  pro- 
ceeded -first  to  make  O'Grady  sit  down 
in  a  big  wicker  arm-chair,  for  the  man 
in  his  broken  condition  was  wellnigh 
exhausted  by  his  walk  across  the  glaring 
parade  in  the  heat  of  an  Arizona  noon- 
day sun.  Then  he  mixed  and  adminis- 
tered the  counterpart  of  the  beverage  he 
had  given  his  prisoner  -  patient  in  the 
morning,  only  in  point  of  potency  it 
was  an  evident  falling  off,  but  sufficient 
for  the  purpose,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
O'Grady  was  able  to  swallow  his  break- 
fast with  evident  relish,  meekly  and  un- 


hesitatingly obeying  every  suggestion  of 
his  superior. 

His  breakfast  finished,  O'Grady  was 
then  conducted  into  a  cool,  darkened 
apartment,  a  back  room  in  the  lieuten- 
ant's quarters. 

"  Now,  pull  off  your  boots  and  outer 
clothing,  man,  spread  yourself  on  that 
bed,  and  go  to  sleep,  if  you  can.  If  you 
can't,  and  you  want  to  read,  there  are 
books  and  papers  on  that  shelf;  pin  up 
the  blanket  on  the  window,  and  you'll 
have  light  enough.  You  shall  not  be 
disturbed,  and  I  know  you  won't  attempt 
to  leave." 

"  Indeed,  sir,  I  won't,"  began  O'- 
Grady eagerly  ;  but  the  lieutenant  had 
vanished,  closing  the  door  after  him,  and 
a  minute  later  the  soldier  had  thrown 
himself  upon  the  cool,  white  bed,  and 
was  crying  like  a  tired  child. 

Three  or  four  weeks  after  this  inci- 
dent, to  the  small  regret  of  his  troop  and 
the  politely-veiled  indifference  of  the 
commissioned  element  of  the  garrison, 
Captain  Buxton  concluded  to  avail  him- 
self of  a  long-deferred  "  leave,"  and 
turned  over  his  company  property  to 
Mr.  Billings  in  a  condition  that  rendered 
it  necessary  for  him  to  do  a  thing  that 
"ground"  him,  so  to  speak:  he  had  to 
ask  several  favors  of  his  lieutenant,  be- 
tween whom  and  himself  there  had  been 
no  cordiality  since  the  episode  of  the 
bivouac,  and  an  open  rupture  since  Mr. 
Billings's  somewhat  eventful  tour  as 
officer  of  the  day,  which  has  just  been 
described. 

It  appeared  that  O'Grady  had  been 
absent  from  no  duty  (there  were  no  drills 
in  that  scorching  June  weather),  but 
that,  yielding  to  the  advice  of  his  com- 
rades, who  knew  that  he  had  eaten  noth- 
ing for  two  days  and  was  drinking  steadily 
into  a  condition  that  would  speedily  bring 
punishment  upon  him,  he  had  asked  per- 
mission to  be  sent  to  the  hospital,  where, 
while  he  could  get  no  liquor,  there  would 
be  no  danger  attendant  upon  his  sudden 
stop  of  all  stimulant.  The  first  sergeant 
carried  his  request  with  the  sick-book 
to  Captain  Buxton,  O'Grady  meantime 
managing  to  take  two  or  three  more 
pulls  at  the  bottle,  and  Buxton,  instead 


1883.] 


THE    WORST  MAN  IN   THE    TROOP. 


297 


of  sending  him  to  the  hospital,  sent  for 
him,  inspected  him,  and  did  what  he  had 
no  earthly  authority  to  do,  directed  the 
sergeant  of  the  guard  to  confine  him  at 
once  in  the  dark  cell. 

"  It  will  be  no  punishment  as  he  is 
now,"  said  Buxton  to  himself,  "  but  it 
will  be  hell  when  he  wakes." 

And  so  it  had  been  ;  and  far  worse  it 
probably  would  have  been  but  for  Mr. 
Billings's  merciful  interference. 

Expecting  to  find  his  victim  in  a  con- 
dition bordering  upon  the  abject  and 
ready  to  beg  for  mercy  at  any  sacrifice 
of  pluck  or  pride,  Buxton  had  gone  to 
the  guard-house  soon  after  retreat  and 
told  the  sergeant  that  he  desired  to  see 
O'Grady,  if  the  man  was  fit  to  come  out. 

What  was  his  surprise  when  the  soldier 
stepped  forth  in  his  trimmest  undress 
uniform,  erect  and  steady,  and  stood  un- 
flinchingly before  him  !  —  a  day's  rest 
and  quiet,  a  warm  bath,  wholesome  and 
palatable  food,  carefu4  nursing,  and  the 
kind  treatment  he  had  received  having 
brought  him  round  with  a  sudden  tifrn 
that  he  himself  could  hardly  under- 
stand. 

"How  is  this?"  thundered  Buxton. 
"  I  ordered  you  kept  in  the  dark  cell." 

"  The  ofiicer  of  the  day  ordered  him 
released,  sir,"  said  the  sergeant  of  the 
guard. 

And  Buxton,  choking  with  rage, 
stormed  into  the  mess-room,  where  the 
younger  ofiicers  were  at  dinner,  and,  re- 
gardless of  the  time,  place,  or  surround- 
ings, opened  at  once  upon  his  subaltern  : 

"  Mr.  Billings,  by  whose  authority  did 
you  release  O'Grady  from  the  dark 
cell  ?" 

Mr.  Billings  calmly  applied  his  napkin 
to  his  moustache,  and  then  as  calmly  re- 
plied, "  By  my  own.  Captain  Buxton." 

"  By  !  sir,  you  exceeded  your 

authority." 

"  Not  at  all,  captain  ;  on  the  contrary, 
you  exceeded  yours." 

At  this  Buxton  flew  into  a  rage  that 
seemed  to  deprive  him  of  all  control  over 
his  language.  Oaths  and  imprecations 
poured  from  his  lips ;  he  raved  at  Bil- 
lings, despite  the  efforts  of  the  officers  to 
quiet  him,  despite  the  adjutant's  threat 

Vol,  VT.  N.  S.— 20 


to  report  his  language  at  once  to  the 
commanding  officer. 

Mr.  Billings  paid  no  attention  what- 
ever to  his  accusations,  but  went  on  eat- 
ing his  dinner  with  an  appearance  of 
serenity  that  only  added  fuel  to  his  cap- 
tain's fire.  Two  or  three  officers  rose  and 
left  the  table  in  disgust,  and  just  how 
far  the  thing  might  have  gone  cannot  be 
accurately  told,  for  in  less  than  three 
minutes  there  came  a  quick,  bounding 
step  on  the  piazza,  the  clank  and  rattle 
of  a  sabre,  and  the  adjutant  fairly  sprang 
back  ilito  the  room  : 

"  Captain  Buxton,  you  will  go  at  once 
to  your  quarters  in  close  arrest,  by  order 
of  Colonel  Treadwell." 

Buxton  knew  his  colonel  and  that 
little  fire-eater  of  an  adjutant  too  well 
to  hesitate  an  instant.  Muttering  im- 
precations on  everybody,  he  went. 

The  next  morning,  O'Grady  was  re- 
leased and  returned  to  duty.  Two  days 
later,  after  a  lengthy  and  private  inter- 
view with  his  commanding  officer.  Cap- 
tain Buxton  appeared  with  him  at  the 
officers'  mess  at  dinner-time,  made  a  for- 
mal and  complete  apology  to  Lieutenant 
Billings  for  his  off"ensive  language,  and 
to  the  mess  generally  for  his  misconduct ; 
and  so  the  affair  blew  over  ;  and,  soon 
after.  Buxton  left,  and  Mr.  Billings  be- 
came commander  of  Company  "  A." 

And  now,  whatever  might  have  been 
his  reputation  as  to  sobriety  before.  Pri- 
vate O'Grady  became  a  marked  man  for 
every  soldierly  virtue.  Week  after  week 
he  was  to  be  seen  every  fourth  or  fifth 
day,  when  his  guard  tour  came,  report- 
ing to  the  commanding  officer  for  duty 
as  orderly,  the  nattiest,  trimmest  soldier 
on  the  detail. 

"  I  always  said,"  remarked  Captain 
Wayne,  "  that  Buxton  alone  was  respon- 
sible for  that  man's  downfall ;  and  this 
proves  it.  O'Grady  has  all  the  instincts 
of  a  gentleman  about  him,  and  now  that 
he  has  a  gentleman  over  him  he  is  him- 
self again." 

One  night,  after  retreat-parade,  there 
was  cheering  and  jubilee  in  the  quarters 
of  Company  "  A."  Corporal  Quinn  had 
been  discharged  by  expiration  of  term  of 
service,  and  Private  O'Grady  was  deco- 


298 


THE    WORST  MAN  IN   THE    TROOP. 


[Sept. 


rated  with  his  chevrons.  When  October 
came,  the  company  muster-roll  showed 
that  he  had  won  back  his  old  grade  ;  and 
the  garrison  knew  no  better  soldier,  no 
more  intelligent,  temperate,  trustworthy 
non-commissioned  officer,  than  Sergeant 
O'Grady.  In  some  way  or  other  the  story 
of  the  treatment  resorted  to  byhisamateur 
medical  officer  had  leaked  out.  Whether 
faulty  in  theory  or  not,  it  was  crowned 
with  the  verdict  of  success  in  practice  ; 
and,  with  the  strong  sense  of  humor 
which  pervades  all  organizations  wherein 
the  Celt  is  represented  as  a  component 
part,  Mr.  Billings  had  been  lovingly 
dubbed  "  Doctor"  by  his  men,  and  there 
was  not  one  of  their  number  who  would 
not  have  gone  through  lire  and  water 
for  him. 

One  night  some  herdsmen  from  up 
the  valley  galloped  wildly  into  the  post. 
The  Apaches  had  swooped  down,  run 
off  their  cattle,  killed  one  of  the  cow- 
boys, and  scared  off  the  rest.  At  day- 
break the  next  morning  Lieutenant  Bil- 
lings, with  Company  "A"  and  about  a 
dozen  Indian  scouts,  was  on  the  trail, 
with  orders  to  pursue,  recapture  the  cat- 
tle, and  punish  the  marauders. 

To  his  disgust,  Mr.  Billings  found 
that  his  allies  were  not  of  the  tribes 
who  had  served  with  him  in  previous 
expeditions.  All  the  trusty  Apache 
Mohaves  and  Hualpais  were  off  with 
other  commands  in  distant  parts  of  the 
Territory.  He  had  to  take  just  what  the 
agent  could  give  him  at  the  reservation, 
— some  Apache  Yumas,  who  were  total 
strangers  to  him.  Within  forty-eight 
hours  four  had  deserted  and  gone  back  ; 
the  others  proved  worthless  as  trailers, 
doubtless  intentionally,  and  had  it  not 
been  for  the  keen  eye  of  Sergeant 
O'Grady  it  would  have  been  impossible 
to  keep  up  the  pursuit  by  night ;  but 
keep  it  up  they  did,  and  just  at  sunset, 
one  sharp  autumn  evening,  away  up  in 
the  mountains,  the  advance  caught  sight 
of  the  cattle  grazing  along  the  shores  of 
a  placid  little  lake,  and,  in  less  time  than 
it  takes  to  write  it,  Mr.  Billings  and  his 
command  tore  down  upon  the  quarry, 
and,  leaving  a  few  men  to  "round  up" 
the  herd,  were  soon  engaged  in  a  lively 


running  fight  with  the  fleeing  Apaches, 
which  lasted  until  dark,  when  the  trum- 
pet sounded  the  recall,  and,  with  horses 
somewhat  blown,  but  no  casualties  of 
importance,  the  command  reassembled 
and  marched  back  to  the  grazing-ground 
by  the  lake.  Here  a  hearty  supper  was 
served  out,  the  horses  were  rested,  then 
given  a  good  "feed"  of  barley,  and  at 
ten  o'clock  Mr.  Billings  with  his  second 
lieutenant  and  some  twenty  men  pushed 
ahead  in  the  direction  taken  by  the  In- 
dians, leaving  the  rest  of  the  men  under 
experienced  non-commissioned  officers  to 
drive  the  cattle  back  to  the  valley. 

That  night  the  conduct  of  the  Apache 
Yuma  scouts  was  incomprehensible. 
Nothing  would  induce  them  to  go  ahead 
or  out  on  the  flanks ;  they  cowered 
about  the  rear  of  column,  yet  declared 
that  the  enemy  could  not  be  hereabouts. 
At  two  in  the  morning  Mr.  Billings 
found  himself  well  through  a  pass  in  the 
mountains,  high  peaks  rising  to  his  right 
and  left,  and  a  broad  valley  in  front. 
Here  he  gave  the  order  to  unsaddle  and 
camp  for  the  night. 

At  daybreak  all  were  again  on  the 
alert :  the  search  for  the  trail  was  re- 
sumed. Again  the  Indians  refused  to 
go  out  without  the  troops ;  but  the 
men  themselves  found  the  tracks  of 
Tonto  moccasins  along  the  bed  of  a 
little  stream  purling  through  the  caiion, 
and  presently  indications  that  they  had 
commenced  the  ascent  of  the  mountain 
to  the  south.  Leaving  a  guard  with  his 
horses  and  pack-mules,  the  lieutenant 
ordered  up  his  men,  and  soon  the  little 
command  was  silently  picking  its  way 
through  rock  and  boulder,  scrub-oak 
and  tangled  juniper  and  pine.  Rougher 
and  steeper  grew  the  ascent ;  more  and 
more  the  Indians  cowered,  huddling  to- 
gether in  rear  of  the  soldiers.  Twice 
Mr.  Billings  signalled  a  halt,  and,  with  his 
sergeants,  fairly  drove  the  scouts  up  to 
the  front  and  ordered  them  to  hunt  for 
signs.  In  vain  they  protested,  "  No  sign, 
— no  Tonto  here ;"  their  very  looks  be- 
lied them,  and  the  young  commander 
ordered  the  search  to  be  continued.  In 
their  eagerness  the  men  soon  leaped 
ahead    of  the  wretched  allies,  and  the 


1883.] 


THE    WORST  MAN  IN   THE    TROOP. 


299 


latter  fell  back  in  the  same  huddled 
group  as  before. 

After  half  an  hour  of  this  sort  of 
work,  the  party  came  suddenly  upon  a 
point  whence  it  was  possible  to  see  much 
of  the  face  of  the  mountain  they  were 
scaling.  Cautioning  his  men  to  keep 
within  the  concealment  afforded  by  the 
thick  timber,  Mr.  Billings  and  his  com- 
rade-lieutenant crept  forward  and  made 
a  brief  reconnoissance.  It  was  evident 
at  a  glance  that  the  farther  they  went 
the  steeper  grew  the  ascent  and  the 
more  tangled  the  low  shrubbery,  for  it 
was  little  better,  until,  near  the  summit, 
trees  and  underbrush,  and  herbage  of 
every  description ,  seemed  to  cease  entirely, 
and  a  vertical  cliff  of  jagged  rocks  stood 
sentinel  at  the  crest,  and  stretched  east 
and  west  the  entire  length  of  the  face  of 
the  mountain. 

"  By  Jove,  Billings  !  if  they  are  on 
top  of  that  it  will  be  a  nasty  place  to 
rout  them  out  of,"  observed  the  junior. 

"  I'm  going  to  find  out  where  they 
are,  anyhow,"  replied  the  other.  "Now 
those  infernal  Yumas  have  got  to  scout, 
whether  they  want  to  or  not.  You  stay 
here  with  the  men,  ready  to  come  the 
instant  I  send  or  signal." 

In  vain  the  junior  officer  protested 
against  being  left  behind ;  he  was  di- 
rected to  send  a  small  party  to  see  if 
there  were  an  easier  way  up  the  hill- 
side farther  to  the  west,  but  to  keep 
the  main  body  there  in  readiness  to 
move  whichever  way  they  might  be  re- 
quired. Then,  with  Sergeant  O'Grady 
and  the  reluctant  Indians,  Mr.  Billings 
pushed  up  to  the  left  front,  and  was  soon 
out  of  sight  of  his  command.  For 
fifteen  minutes  he  drove  his  scouts,  dis- 
persed in  skirmish  order,  ahead  of  him, 
but  incessantly  they  sneaked  behind 
rocks  and  trees  out  of  his  sight ;  twice 
he  caught  them  trying  to  drop  back,  and 
at  last,  losing  all  patience,  he  sprang 
forward,  saying,  "  Then  come  on,  you 
whelps,  if  you  cannot  lead,"  and  he 
and  the  sergeant  hurried  ahead.  Then 
the  Yumas  huddled  together  again  and 
slowly  followed. 

Fifteen  minutes  more,  and  Mr.  Bil- 
lings   found    himself    standinsr    on    the 


edge  of  a  broad  shelf  of  the  mountain, 
— a  shelf  covered  with  huge  boulders  of 
rock  tumbled  there  by  storm  and  tem- 
pest, riven  by  lightning-stroke  or  the 
slow  disintegration  of  nature  from  the 
bare,  glaring,  precipitous  ledge  he  had 
marked  from  below.  East  and  west  it 
seemed  to  stretch,  forbidding  and  inac- 
cessible. Turning  to  the  sergeant,  Mr. 
Billings  directed  him  to  make  his  way 
off  to  the  right  and  see  if  there  were 
any  possibility  of  finding  a  path  to  the 
summit ;  then  looking  back  down  the  side, 
and  marking  his  Indians  cowering  under 
the  trees  some  fifty  yards  away,  he  sig- 
nalled "come  up,"  and  was  about  moving 
farther  to  his  left  to  explore  the  shelf, 
when  something  went  whizzing  past  his 
head,  and,  embedding  itself  in  a  stunted 
oak  behind  him,  shook  and  quivered 
with  the  shock, — a  Tonto  arrow.  Only 
an  instant  did  he  see  it,  photographed 
as  by  electricity  upon  the  retina,  when 
with  a  sharp  stinging  pang  and  whirring 
"  whist"  and  thud  a  second  arrow,  better 
aimed,  tore  through  the  flesh  and 
muscles  just  at  the  outer  corner  of  his 
left  eye,  and  glanced  away  down  the 
hill.  With  one  spring  he  gained  the 
edge  of  the  shelf,  and  shouted  to  the 
scouts  to  come  on.  Even  as  he  did  so, 
bang !  bang !  went  the  reports  of  two 
rifles  among  the  rocks,  and,  as  with  one 
accord,  the  Apache  Y^umas  turned  tail 
and  rushed  back  down  the  hill,  leaving 
him  alone  in  the  midst  of  hidden  foes. 
Stung  by  the  arrow,  bleeding,  but  not 
seriously  hurt,  he  crouched  behind  a 
rock,  with  carbine  at  ready,  eagerly  look- 
ing for  the  first  sign  of  an  enemy.  The 
whiz  of  another  arrow  from  the  left 
drew  his  eyes  thither,  and  quick  as  a 
flash  his  weapon  leaped  to  his  shoulder, 
the  rocks  rang  with  its  report,  and  one 
of  the  two  swarthy  forms  he  saw  among 
the  boulders  tumbled  over  out  of  sight; 
but  even  as  he  threw  back  his  piece  to 
reload,  a  rattling  volley  greeted  him,  the 
carbine  dropped  to  the  ground,  a  strange, 
numbed  sensation  had  seized  his  shoulder, 
and  his  right  arm,  shattered  by  a  rifle- 
bullet,  hung  dangling  by  the  flesh,  while 
the  blood  gushed  forth  in  a  torrent. 
Defenceless,   he  sprang   back    to   the 


300 


THE    WORST  MAN  IN   THE    TROOP. 


[Sept. 


edge  ;  there  was  nothing  for  it  now  but  to 
run  until  he  could  meet  his  men.  Well 
he  knew  they  would  be  tearing  up  the 
mountain  to  the  rescue.  Could  he  hold 
out  till  then  ?  Behind  him  with  shout 
and  yells  came  the  Apaches,  arrow 
and  bullet  whistling  over  his  head  ;  be- 
fore him  lay  the  steep  descent, — ^jagged 
rocks,  thick,  tangled  bushes :  it  was  a 
desperate  chance  ;  but  he  tried  it,  leaping 
from  rock  to  rock,  holding  his  helpless 
arm  in  his  left  hand ;  then  his  foot 
slipped :  he  plunged  heavily  forward ; 
quickly  the  nerves  threw  out  their  sig- 
nal for  support  to  the  muscles  of  the 
shattered  member,  but  its  work  was 
done,  its  usefulness  destroyed ;  missing 
its  support,  he  plunged  heavily  forward, 
and  went  crashing  down  among  the 
rocks  eight  or  ten  feet  below,  cutting  a 
jagged  gash  in  his  forehead,  while  the 
blood  rained  down  into  his  eyes  and 
blinded  him  ;  but  he  struggled  up  and 
on  a  few  yards  more ;  then  another  fall, 
and,  wellnigh  senseless,  utterly  exhausted, 
he  lay  groping  for  his  revolver, — it  had 
fallen  from  its  case.  Then — all  was  over. 
Not  yet ;  not  yet.  His  ear  catches 
the  sound  of  a  voice  he  knows  well, — 
a  rich,  ringing,  Hibernian  voice  it  is: 
"  Lieutenant,    lieutenant.        Where   are 


ye 


?"   and  he   has   strength    enough  to 


call,  "  This  way,  sergeant,  this  way,"  and 
in  another  moment  O'Grady,  with  blend- 
ed anguish  and  gratitude  in  his  face,  is 
bending  over  him.  "  Oh,  thank  God 
you're  not  kilt,  sir  !"  (for  when  excited 
O'Grady  would  relapse  into  the  brogue)  ; 
"  but  are  ye  much  hurt?" 

"  Badly,  sergeant,  since  I  can't  fight 
another  round." 

"  Then  put  your  arms  round  my  neck, 
sir,"  and  in  a  second  the  little  Patlander 
has  him  on  his  brawny  back.  But 
with  only  one  arm  by  which  to  steady 
himself,  the  other  hanging  loose,  the 
torture  is  inexpressible,  for  O'Grady 
is  now  bounding  down  the  hill,  leaping 


like  a  goat  from  rock  to  rock,  while  the 
Apaches  with  savage  yells  come  tear- 
ing after  them.  Twice,  pausing,  O'Grady 
lays  his  lieutenant  down  in  the  shelter 
of  some  large  boulder,  and,  facing  about, 
sends  shot  after  shot  up  the  hill,  check- 
ing the  pursuit  and  driving  the  cowardly 
footpads  to  cover.  Once  he  gives  vent 
to  a  genuine  Kilkenny  "  hurroo"  as  a 
tall  Apache  drops  his  rifle  and  plunges 
headforemost  among  the  rocks  with  his 
hands  convulsively  clasped  to  his  breast. 
Then  the  sergeant  once  more  picks  up 
his  wounded  comrade,  despite  pleas, 
orders,  or  imprecations,  and  rushes  on. 

"  I  cannot  stand  it,  O'Grady.  Go 
and  save  yourself.  You  must  do  it.  I 
order  you  to  do  it."  Every  instant  tlie 
shots  and  arrows  whiz  closer,  but  the 
sergeant  never  winces,  and  at  last,  pant- 
ing, breathless,  having  carried  his  chief 
full  five  hundred  yards  down  the  rugged 
slope,  he  gives  out  entirely,  but  with  a 
gasp  of  delight  points  down  among  the 
trees  : 

"Here  come  the  boys,  sir." 

Another  moment,  and  the  soldiers  are 
rushing  up  the  rocks  beside  them,  their 
carbines  ringing  like  merry  music 
through  the  frosty  air,  and  the  Apaches 
are  scattering  in  every  direction. 

"Old  man,  are  you  much  hurt?"  is 
the  whispered  inquiry  his  brother-ofiicer 
can  barely  gasp  for  want  of  breath,  and, 
reassured  by  the  faint  grin  on  ]Mr. 
Billings's  face,  and  a  barely  audible 
"  Arm  busted, — that's  all ;  pitch  in  and 
use  them  up,"  he  pushes  on  with  his 
men. 

In  ten  minutes  the  affair  is  ended. 
The  Indians  have  been  swept  away  like 
chaff ;  the  field  and  the  wounded  tliey 
have  abandoned  are  in  the  hands  of  the 
troopers  ;  the  young  commander's  life  is 
saved  ;  and  then,  and  for  long  after,  the 
hero  of  the  day  is  Buxton's  hete  noire, 
"  the  worst  man  in  the  troop." 

Charles  King,  U.S.A. 


CAPTAIN  SANTA  GLAUS 


By  Captain  Charles  King, 
U.  S.  A. 


New  York: 
Harper  Brothers. 


CAPTAIN  SANTA  CLAUS. 

BY  CAPTAIN  CHARLES  KING,  U.S.A. 


THERE  was  unusual  com- 
motion in  the  frontier 
mining  town  when  the  red 
stage,  snow  -  covered  and 
storm-beaten,  lurched  up  in 
front  of  the  Bella  Union  and 
began  to  disgoi'ge  passengers 
and  mail.  The  crowd  on 
the  wooden  side^valk  was  of 
that  cosmopolitan  type  whicli 
rich  and  recently  discovered 
"leads"  so  surely  attract: 
tough-looking  miners ;  devil- 
may-care  cow-boys  with  roll- 
ing hat-brims  and  barbaric 
display  of  deadly  weapons; 
a  choice  coterie  of  gamblers 
with  exaggerated  suavity  of 
manners;  several  impassive 
Chinamen  (very  clean) ;  sev- 
eral loafing  Indians  (very 
dirty);  a  brace  of  spruce, 
clean-shaven,  trim-built  sol- 
diers from  the  garrison  down 
the  valley;  and  the  inevita- 
ble .squad  of  "beats"  with 
bleary  eyes  and  wolfish  faces 
infesting  the  doorways  of  the 
saloons,  sublimely  trustful  of 
a  community  that  had  long 
ceased  to  trust  them,  and 
scenting  eleemosynary  possi- 
bilities in  each  new-comer. 

But  while  the  arrival  of 
the  stage  was  a  source  of 
perennial  excitement  in  the 
business  centre  of  Argentopo- 
lis,  the  commotion  on  this 
occasion  was  due  to  the  tu- 
multuous welcome  given  by 
a  mob  of  scliool-children  to 
a  tall,  bronzed,  fiercely  mus- 
tached  party  the  instant  he  stepped,  fur- 
clad,  from  the  dark  interior.  Such  an 
array  of  eager,  joyous  little  faces  one  sel- 
dom sees.  Big  boys  and  wee  maidens, 
they  threw  themselves  upon  him  with 
shrill  clamor  and  enthusiastic  embraces, 
swarming  about  his  legs  as,  with  twink- 
ling eyes  and  genial  greeting,  he  lifted 
the  little  ones  high  in  air  and  kissed  their 
dimpled  cheeks,  and  shook  the  struggling 
boys  heartily  by  tlie  hand,  and  was  pulled 
this  way  and  that  way  until  eventually 
borne  off  in  triumph  toward  the  spick- 


span  new  shop,  with  its  glittering  white 
front  and  alluring  display  of  fruit,  pastry, 
and  confectionery,  all  heralded  forth  un- 
der the  grandiloquent  but  delusive  sign, 
"Bald  Eagle  Bakery." 

Upon  this  tumultuous  reception  Ai'gen- 
topolis  gazed  for  some  moments  in  won- 
dering silence.  When  the  transfer  of  the 
children  and  their  willing  captive  to  a 
point  some  dozen  yards  away  rendered 
conversation  a  possibility,  the  spokesman 
of  the  sidewalk  committee  shifted  his 
quid,  and  formulated  in  frontier  phrase 


%3    -p-  -jTo  Q  0  -a  U  Hi — 


"  '  COMK    BACK,'  SAID    THE    CAPTAIN,  REASSURINGLY. 


CAPTAIN  SANTA  CLAUS. 


109 


the  question  which  seemed  uppermost  in 
the  public  mind: 

"  Who  'n  thunder's  that  ?"' 

"That?"  said  the  soldier  addressed. 
"That's  Captain  Ransom.  It's  good  times 
the  kids  '11  be  having  now." 

"  B'long  to  your  rigiment  ?" 

' '  Yes ;  Captain  of  '  B'  troop.  Been  away 
on  leav^e  ever  since  Ave  got  here." 

"Seems  fond  o'  children,"  said  the  Ar- 
gentopolitan,  reflectively.  "Got  any  of 
his  own  ?" 

"  Naiy.  He  b'longs  to  the  whole  crowd. 
Tlie  'B'  company  fellers  '11  be  glad  he's 
back.  They  think  as  much  of  him  as  the 
kids  do." 

"  Good  officer,  eh  ?" 

"You  bet;  ain't  no  better  in  the  cav- 
alry." 

At  this  unequivocal  endorsement  from 
expert  authority  the  eyes  of  Argentopolis 
again  followed  the  big  man  in  the  fur 
overcoat.  With  three  or  four  youngsters 
tugging'  at  each  hand,  and  a  dozen  revolv- 
ing irregularly  about  him,  he  was  striding 
across  the  street,  keeping  up  a  running 
fire  of  chatter  with  his  thronging  satel- 
lites. Soldier  he  was  unquestionably. 
Tall,  erect  of  carriage,  broad  of  shoulder, 
deep  of  chest,  with  a  keen,  quick  glance 
from  under  his  heavy  brows.  Eyes  full 
of  light  and  fire,  nose  straight  and  prom- 
inent, a  great  mustache  that  hid  the  curves 
of  his  handsome  mouth  and  swept  out 
across  the  square  and  resolute  jaws — a 
mustache  that,  like  the  wavy  brown  hair 
about  the  temples,  was  tingeing  with  gray. 
Strong  white  teeth  glistened  through  the 
drooping  thatch,  and  one  or  two  merry 
dimples  dotted  his  bronzed  and  weather- 
beaten  cheeks. 

Over  on  the  neighboring  side  street, 
from  the  steps  of  the  school-house,  other 
children  surveyed  the  group,  and  with 
envious  eyes  and  watering  mouths  be- 
held the  demolition  of  tarts  and  turn- 
overs. Despite  the  keen  and  searching 
cold  of  the  mountain  air,  rare  and  still 
and  brimming  with  ozone  as  November 
days  can  ever  find  it,  the  school  shoved 
its  hands  deep  in  trousers  pockets  and 
stared  with  all  its  youtliful  might. 

Even  so  blessed  a  half-hour  must  have 
its  end,  and  as  the  warning  bell  began  to 
ring,  and  the  Townies  to  shout  that  "ree- 
cess"  was  over,  the  merry  throng,  spoil- 
laden,  came  pouring  down  the  bakery 
steps,  with  many  admonitions  to  their  big 
benefactor  not  to  think  of  starting  for  the 

Vol.  LXXVI.— Ko.  451.-8 


fort  until  school  was  out  and  they  could 
escort  him  liome.  Two  or  three  of  the 
smallest  still  clung  to  him,  explaining 
that  only  the  big  ones  had  afternoon 
school;  they  were  all  through;  they  had 
nothing  to  do  until  the  ambulance  came 
to  take  them  all  at  four  o'clock;  and  the 
Captain  became  suddenly  aware  of  two 
little  people  standing  on  the  sidewalk 
and  regarding  him  wistfully.  One  was 
a  sturdy  boy  of  seven,  Avith  frank  blue 
eyes  and  chubby  rounded  cheeks — a  pic- 
ture of  solid  young  America  despite  the 
fact  that  his  little  fists  Avere  red  and  bare; 
his  knickerbockers,  though  Avell  fitting, 
Avere  worn  and  patched;  and  the  copper 
toes  of  his  cheap,  heavy  boots  Avere  Avear- 
ing  suspiciously  thin.  He  stood  protect- 
ingly  by  a  little  maiden,  Avliose  face  was 
like  those  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds'  ser- 
aphs—  a  face  as  pure  an  oval  as  ever 
sculptor  modelled  or  painter  limned,  Avith 
great,  lustrous,  long-lashed  eyes  and  deli- 
cate and  dainty  features,  and  all  about  it 
tumbled  a  Avealth  of  glistening  golden 
hair,  and  all  over  it  shone  the  look  of 
childish  longing  and  almost  piteous  en- 
treaty. One  little  mittened  liand  Avas 
clasped  in  her  brother's;  the  other,  un- 
covered, hung  by  a  linger  in  her  rosy 
mouth.  She  was  Avarml}' clad;  her  little 
cloak  and  hood  Avere  soft  and  Avbite  and 
fleecy;  her  pigmy  legs  Avere  cased  in  stout 
Avorsted,  and  her  feet  in  Avarm  "arctics," 
and  "mother's  darling"  Avas  Avritten  in 
every  ornament  of  her  dress. 

Ransom,  stowing  away  a  Ijandful  of 
silver,  came  suddenly  upon  this  silent 
pair,  and  stopped  short.  Another  instant 
and  he  had  stooped,  raised  the  younger 
child  in  his  strong  hands,  and  with  caress- 
ing tone  accosted  her: 

"Why,  little  Snow-drop,  who  are  you  ? 
What  a  little  isary  you  are!" 

"She  ain't  one  of  us,"  piped  up  a  youth- 
ful patrician,  disdainfully.  "She's  in- 
fantry. He's  her  brother,  and  they  don't 
belong  to  the  fort." 

The  boy's  face  flushed,  and  he  looked 
repi'oach fully  at  the  speaker,  but  said  no 
Avord.  Ransom  Avas  gazing  Avith  singular 
intentness  into  the  doAvncast  face  of  his 
little  captive. 

"Won't  you  tell  me  your  name,  little 
one?"  he  pleaded.  "Why  didn't  you 
come  in  and  haA^e  some  tarts  and  turn- 
overs Avith  the  others  ?  I've  got  to  run 
now  and  meet  some  other  old  fellows  at 
the  stage  office.     Here,  little  man,"  he 


110 


HARPER'S   NEW  MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


said,  as  he  set  her  clown,  "take  Snow- 
drop in  for  me,  and  you  two  just  eat  all 
you  can,  and  you  pay  for  it  for  me."  He 
held  out  a  bright  half  -  dollar.  Snow- 
drop's eyes  glistened,  and  she  looked  ea- 
gerly at  her  brother. 

But  the  boy  hung  back.  For  an  in- 
stant he  hesitated,  screwing  his  boot  toe 
into  a  convenient  knot-hole  as  means  of 
covering  his  embarrassment.  "Come, 
Jack,"  said  the  Captain,  reassuringly, 
touching  him  on  the  shouldei*.  The  little 
fellow  shook  his  head. 

"Why  not,  my  boy  ?"  pleaded  Ransom. 
"Papa  -won't  mind,  Avhen  you  tell  him  it 
was  old  Uncle  Hal.  That's  what  they 
call  me." 

A  lump  rose  in  the  youngster's  throat. 
His  head  went  lower. 

"It — it's  mamma  wouldn't  like  it,"  he 
finally  said;  and  just  then,  with  rush  and 
sputter  of  hoofs,  two  officers  came  trotting 
around  the  corner,  threw  themselves  from 
their  saddles,  pounced  upon  their  com- 
rade, and  overwhelmed  him  with  joyous 
greeting.  Another  minute  and  others 
arrived,  and  between  them  all  he  was  led 
away  up  the  sti'eet.  While  some  of  the 
children  confidentl}'  followed,  two  re- 
mained behind:  little  Snow-drop,  refusing 
to  be  comforted,  was  applying  tlie  back 
of  her  mittened  hand  to  her  weeping  eyes, 
and  turning  a  deaf  ear  to  her  manful 
brother,  who  was  vainly  striving  to  ex- 
plain matters. 

"  Maudie  Carleton's  crying  because  Phil 
wouldn't  take  the  money  and  get  lier  some 
goodies,"  said  little  Jack  Wilkius,  in  an 
opi^ortune  pause. 

"  Whom  did  you  say  ?"  asked  Ransom, 
turning  suddenly,  and  looking  inquiring- 
ly at  his  friends.  There  was  an  instant 
of  embarrassment.  Then  one  of  the  offi- 
cers replied: 

"Maud  Carleton,  Ransom.  Those  are 
poor  Phil  Carleton's  little  ones." 

"Wait  for  me  at  the  office,  fellows; 
I'll  be  along  in  a  minute,"  was  the  re- 
sponse; and  the  Captain  went  striding 
back  to  the  Bald  Eagle. 

It  was  an  old  story  in  the  cavalry. 
Very  few  there  were  who  knew  not  that 
Captain  Ransom  was  a  hard -hit  man 
when  Kate  Perry — the  beauty  of  her  fa- 
ther's regiment — came  back  from  school, 
and  with  all  the  wealth  of  her  grace  and 
loveliness  and  winning  ways,  refusing  to 
see  how  she  had  impressed  one  or  two 
"solid"'  men  of  the  garrison,  fell  raptur- 


ously in  love  with  Philip  Carleton,  the 
handsome,  dashing  scapegrace  of  the  sub- 
alterns. It  was  "  hard  lines"  for  old  Col- 
onel Perry;  it  would  have  been  misery 
to  her  devoted  mother ;  but  she  was  spared 
it  all — the  grass  had  been  growing  for 
years  over  her  distant  grave. 

The  wedding  was  a  glitter  of  gold-lace, 
champagne  glasses,  and  tears.  Every 
one  wished  her — and  him — all  happiness, 
but  dreaded  the  future.  There  was  a  year 
of  bliss,  and  little  Phil  was  born  ;  another 
year  when  she  was  much  taken  up  with 
her  baby  hoy,  and  the  father  much  abroad— 
a  year  of  clouds  and  silence.  Then  came 
sudden  call  to  the  field,  and  one  night 
with  reeling  senses  she  read  the  despatch 
that  told  her  he  was  shot  dead  in  battle 
with  the  Sioux.  When  little  Maudie 
came  there  was  no  father  to  receive  her 
in  his  arms.  The  gray-haired  Colonel 
took  the  widow  and  her  children  a  few 
short  years  to  his  own  roof;  then  he,  too, 
was  called  to  his  account,  and  with  a 
widow's  pension  and  the  relic  of  her  fa- 
ther's savings  the  sorrowing  woman 
moved  from  the  garrison  that  had  so  long 
been  her  home,  and  took  up  arms  against 
her  sea  of  troubles.  She  need  not  have 
gone.  All  Fort  Rains  kncAV  that  there 
were  officers  who  would  gladly  have  taken 
her  and  her  beautiful  children  to  their  fire- 
side. But  she  was  loyal,  proud,  high-spir- 
ited, and  she  could  not  stay.  All  the  roof 
her  father  had  to  leave  her  was  the  frame 
cottage  at  the  ranch  he  had  bought  and 
stocked,  a  mile  below  the  fort.  She  was  a 
soldier's  daughter,  brave  and  resolute,  she 
had  her  father's  old  soldier-servant  and 
his  wife  to  help  her,  and  she  moved  to  the 
ranch,  and  declared  she  would  be  depend- 
ent on  no  one.  When  first  she  had  come 
into  that  glorious  valley,  a  girl  of  eigh- 
teen, a  large  force  of  cavalry  was  en- 
camped around  the  garrison  in  which  her 
father's  regiment  of  foot  was  stationed, 
and  Captain  Harold  Ransom  became  one 
of  her  most  devoted  admirers,  though 
nearly  twice  her  age.  Few  men  had 
much  chance  against  such  a  lover  as  Pliil 
Carleton,  buoyant,  brilliant,  gallant,  the 
pride  of  all  the  juniors  in  the  infantry, 
the  despair  of  many  a  prudent  mother,  and 
when  that  engagement  was  announced, 
the  cavalry  were  rather  glad  to  be  or- 
dered away,  and  to  comfort  themselves 
with  the  perilous  distractions  of  Indian 
fighting  for  three  or  four  stirring  years. 
But,  before  they  left,  Ransom  and  others 


CAPTAIN  SANTA  GLAUS. 


Ill 


had  bought  much  of  the  land  on  which 
Argentopolis  gleamed  to-day.  Perhaps 
it  was  the  silver  that  came  into  his  hair 
as  well  as  his  pockets,  but  silver  did  not 
cause  the  lines  that  crept  under  his  kind- 
ly eyes  and  around  the  corners  of  the  firm 
mouth.  He  was  rich,  as  army  men  go, 
but  his  heart  was  soi'ely  wrenched.  He 
went  abroad  when  the  Indian  campaigns 
were  over,  and  rejoined  while  his  com- 
rades were  on  the  Pacific  coast,  and  be- 
came the  delight  of  the  children  and  the 
children's  mothers.  Captain  Santa  Claus 
they  called  him  at  Walla  Walla  and  Van- 
couver, where  he  was  the  life  of  those 
garrisons;  and  while  men  honored  and 
women  waxed  sentimental  toward  him,  it 
was  the  cliildren  who  took  possession  of 
the  tall  soldier  and  made  his  house  their 
home,  who  trooped  unbidden  all  over  it 
at  any  hour  of  the  day,  and  made  it  the 
garrison  play-ground  when  the  rainy  sea- 
son set  in  and  di'ove  them  to  cover. 

And  then,  after  their  four  years  in  the 
Columbia  country,  the  regiment  crossed 
the  big  I'ange,  and,  wonder  of  wonders, 
head-quarters  and  six  troops,  one  of  them 
Ransom's,  were  ordei'ed  to  Fort  Rains! 
He  was  again  on  long  leave  when  the 
cliange  of  station  occurred,  and  the  widow 
drew  a  long  breath.  She  found  life  very 
different,  with  her  father  s  old  friends  and 
liers  removed.  As  the  children  grew  in 
years  their  needs  increased.  She  sold  the 
stock  and  much  of  the  land  of  the  ranch, 
keeping  only  the  homestead  and  the  patch 
ai'ound  it,  but  she  was  glad  to  find  em- 
ployment at  the  fort  as  teacher  of  tlie  pi- 
ano and  singing.  She  played  well,  but 
her  voice  was  glorious,  and  had  been  cai'e- 
fully  trained.  The  news  that  he  was 
coming  had  given  her  a  shock.  It  was 
more  than  eight  years  since  she  had  seen 
him.  It  was  more  than  five  since  she  had 
briefly  answered  the  letter  he  wrote  her 
on  hearing  of  her  husband's  death.  It 
was  so  manl3'',  sym]3athetic,  and  so  full  of 
something  he  knew  not  how  to  expi'ess — 
a  longing  to  shield  her  from  want  or  care. 
She  had  gently  but  firmly  ended  it  all. 

And  yet —  She  was  bitterly  poor  now. 
Handsomer  than  ever,  said  tlie  olficers  who 
knew  her  in  the  old  days;  still  wearing 
her  mourning,  and  looking  so  tall  and  ma- 
jestic in  her  rusting  weeds.  She  was  a 
woman  whose  form  and  carriage  would 
be  noticeable  anywhere  —  tall,  slender, 
graceful,  with  a  certain  slow,  languorous 
ease  of  motion  that  charmed  the  senses. 


Her  face  was  exquisite  in  contour  and 
feature— a  pure  type  of  blond,  blue-eyed, 
Saxon  beauty,  with  great  masses  of  shim- 
mering golden  brown  hair.  No  wonder 
Ransom  felt  a  thrill  when  he  looked  into 
Maudie's  eyes:  the  child  was  her  mother 
in  miniature.  At  twenty-seven,  with  all 
her  trials,  Mrs.  Carleton  was  a  lovelier 
woman  than  in  her  maiden  radiance  at 
eighteen.  What  she  had  gained  in  strength 
and  character,  through  her  years  of  pov- 
erty and  self-abnegation,  God  alone  knew, 
and  He  had  been  her  comfoi'ter. 

For  nearly  a  year  the  gari'ison  children 
had  been  going  in  to  town  for  school,  an 
excellent  teacher  having  been  secured  in 
the  East,  and  Mrs.  Carleton  eagerly  em- 
braced the  chance  of  sending  hers.  She 
could  no  longer  afford  a  nurse  to  look 
after  the  wee  one.  She  could  not  take 
her  on  her  daily  round  of  lessons,  and 
her  infantry  friends  had  gladly  seen  to  it 
that  the  little  Cai'letons  were  carried  to 
and  fro  with  their  own.  So,  too,  when 
the  cavalry  came  had  Colonel  Cross  as- 
sui*ed  her  that  the  ambulance  should  al- 
ways come  for  them  and  bring  them  back 
to  the  post.  Everybody  wanted  to  be 
kind  to  her,  or  said  so  at  least;  but  the 
ladies  were  all  new  and  strange.  She 
had  never  been  the  pet  among  them  she 
was  in  her  own  regiment.  They  had  not 
known  and  loved  her  father,  as  had  the 
Colonel.  They  had  heard  of  handsome 
Phil  Carleton,  as  who  had  not?  but  they 
had  heard  of  Hal  Ransom's  old-time  de- 
votion to  her,  and  now  he  would  soon  be 
back.  Rich,  growing  gray,  everybody's 
friend,  the  children's  idol — oh!  what  if 
she  should  set  that  widow's  cap  for  him 
now  !     Tlie  possibility  was  appalling. 

And  Christmas  was  coming,  and  the 
cliildren  had  been  weaving  glowing  pic- 
tures of  the  bliss  to  be  theirs  because  Cap- 
tain Santa  Claus  was  homeward  bound, 
and  little  Maud  was  listening  with  eager 
ears,  and  her  blue-eyed  brother  in  silent 
longing.  The  boy  was  his  mother's  knight 
and  champion.  She  took  him  into  her 
confidence  and  told  him  many  of  her 
troubles,  and  time  and  again  after  Maudie 
was  asleep  the  two  were  rocking  in  the 
big  ai'm-chair  in  front  of  the  hearth,  the 
little  fellow  curled  up  in  her  lap,  his 
arms  around  her  neck,  his  ruddy  cheek 
nestled  against  hers, that  looked  so  fragile 
and  white  by  contrast.  He  knew  how 
hard  a  struggle  mamma  was  having  in 
keeping  the  wolf  from  the  door,  and  he 


112 


HARPER'S  NEW  MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


was  lielping  her — little  hero  that  he  was 
-—wearing  uncomplainingly  the  patched 
knickerbockers  and  cowhide  boots,  bearing 
in  soldier  silence  the  thoughtless  jeers  of 
his  school-mates,  and  taking  comfort  in 
the  fact  that  sensitive  little  Maud  was 
always  prettily  dressed.  She  had  been 
petted  from  babyhood,  for  scarlet-fever 
had  left  her  weak  and  nervous. 

And  so  the  coming  of  glad  Christ- 
mas-tide was  not  to  them  the  source  of 
boundless  joy  it  seemed  to  others.  For 
days  Maud  had  been  coming  home  from 
school  full  of  childish  prattle  about  the 
lovely  things  the  other  girls  were  going  to 
have.  Couldn't  she  have  a  real  wax  doll, 
with  "truly"  eyes  and  hair,  that  could 
sing  and  say  mamma;  and  a  doll  house, 
with  kitchen,  and  a  real  pump  and  stove 
in  it,  and  dining-room  and  parlor,  and  lots 
of  lovely  bedrooms  upstairs;  and  a  doll 
carriage  like  Mabel  Vane's,  with  blue 
cushions,  and  white  Avheels  and  body,  and 
umbrella  toj)  ?  She  was  tired  of  her  old 
dollies  and  her  broken  wagon.  Why 
didn't  people  ever  give  her  such  beautiful 
things  ?  If  she  was  very  good,  and  wrote 
to  Santa  Claus,  wouldn't  he  bring  her 
what  she  wanted  so  very,  very  much  ? 
Poor  Mrs.  Carleton  !  Do  our  hearts  ever 
ache  over  our  own  troubles  as  they  do 
over  the  longings  of  our  little  ones  ?  She 
promised  Maud  that  Santa  Claus  should 
bring  the  very  things  she  craved,  and  now 
she  knew  not  how  to  fulfil  her  pledge. 
Commissary  and  butcher  bills  were  still 
unpaid,  and  she  so  hated  to  ask  even  for 
what  was  due  her!  It  is  such  an  old, 
homely,  heart-worn  story — that  of  Christ- 
mas yearnings  that  must  be  unfulfilled! 
We  lay  down  our  cherished  plans  with 
a  sigh  of  resignation,  but  when  baby  eyes 
and  baby  lips  are  pleading,  God  forgive 
us  if  we  are  not  so  humbly  patient,  if  we 
accejit  our  burden  not  without  a  murmur, 
or  yield  not  without  a  struggle! 

She  had  other  sore  perplexities.  She 
well  knew  she  must  meet  Hal  Ransom. 
Two  days  had  elapsed  since  Phil  had  told 
her  of  the  reception  accorded  him,  and 
Maud  had  preferred  her  complaint  against 
her  brother  for  being  so  mean  to  her  in  not 
taking  the  money  and  giving  her  a  treat. 

Heaven!  how  the  widowed  soul  hugged 
her  boy  to  her  bosom  that  night,  and  kiss- 
ed and  blessed  and  cried  over  him  !  Come 
what  might,  he  should  liave  a  Christmas 
worth  remembering,  for  his  remembrance 
of  her!     She  had  long  planned  to  send  to 


Chicago  for  a  handsome  suit  to  replace  the 
worn  and  outgrown  knickerbockers.  It 
would  have  crushed  her  to  think  of  her 
boy's  taking  money  from  him,  of  all  peo- 
ple, no  matter  what  the  Forties  did.  Then 
came  the  question  as  to  how  she  would 
meet  him.  Go  to  the  fort  she  had  to  ev- 
ery day,  and  meet  they  must.  It  was  not 
that  he  would  be  obtrusive;  he  was  too 
thorough  a  gentleman  for  that,  and  her 
last  letter  to  him  was  such  that  he  could 
not  be.  It  was  written  in  the  ecstasy  of 
her  bereavement,  when  she  was  liiding 
even  from  herself  the  faults  and  neglects 
of  the  buried  Philip  to  Avhom  she  had 
given  her  girlish  love.  With  lofty  spirit 
she  had  told  him  she  lived  only  to  teach 
her  children  to  revere  their  father's  mem- 
ory, and  that  she  could  never  think  of  ac- 
cepting aid  from  any  one,  though  she 
thanked  liim  for  the  delicacy  and  thought- 
fulness  of  his  well-meant  offer.  She  had 
asked  herself  many  a  time  in  the  last  year 
whether,  if  it  were  to  be  done  again,  she 
could  find  it  in  her  heart  to  be  quite  so 
cold  and  repellent.  She  wondered  if  he 
had  ever  heard  that  the  last  year  of  her 
handsome  Philip's  life  had  been  devoted 
more  to  other  women  than  to  her.  She 
could  not  tolerate  the  idea  that  he,  above 
all,  should  suppose  that  between  Philip 
and  herself  all  had  not  been  blissful,  and 
that  she  had  been  neglected  not  a  little. 
And  yet — and  yet  was  she  unlike  other 
women  that  just  now  her  toilet  received 
rather  more  thought  than  usual,  and  that 
she  wondered  would  he  find  her  faded — 
changed  ? 

They  met,  as  men  and  women  whose 
hearts  hold  weightier  secrets  must  meet, 
with  the  ease  and  cordiality  Avhich  their 
breeding  demands.  Scene  there  Avas  none ; 
but  she  saw,  and  saw  instanth^  what  she 
had  vainly  striven  to  teach  herself  she  was 
utterly  indifferent  to,  that  in  his  eyes  she 
was  no  more  faded  than  his  love  in  hers. 
She  could  have  scourged  herself  for  the 
thrill  of  life  and  youth  it  gave  her. 

That  night  little  Philip  was  hugged 
closer  than  ever.  He  had  been  telling 
her  how  the  Captain  was  moving  into  his 
new  quarters,  and  the  children  trooped 
over  there  the  moment  they  got  back  from 
school,  and  would  not  ask  them,  because 
they  were  infantry,  and  Maud  cried,  and 
the  Captain  himself  came  out  and  took 
her  in  his  arms  and  carried  her,  and  made 
him  come  too,  and  they  all  had  nuts  and 
raisins  and  apples,  and  the  Captain  was 


CAPTAIN  SANTA  GLAUS. 


113 


just  as  kind  to  them  as  though  they  were 
cavalry — "more  too,  for  he  kept  Maudie 
on  his  knee  most  of  the  time,  and  wanted 
us  to  stay,  but  we  had  to  go  and  meet 
mamma.  And  he  said  that  was  what  made 
him  proud  of  me  from  the  first,  because  I 
was  so  true  to  you,  mamma,"  said  Phil. 
"I  suppose  because  1  wouldn't  take  his 
half-dollar." 

She  was  silent  a  moment,  pressing  her 
lips  to  his  cheek,  and  striving  hard  to  sub- 
due the  tears  that  rose  to  her  eyes.  She 
had  something  to  ask  of  her  boy  that  was 
hard,  very  hard.     Yet  it  had  to  be  done. 

"You  were  right,  Philip.  It  would  have 
hurt  mamma  more  than  words  can  tell 
had  you  taken  money  from — from  any 
one.  We  are  very  poor,  but  we  can  be 
rich  in  one  thing — independence.  Mamma 
has  not  had  much  luck  this  year.  It  seem- 
ed all  to  go  with  papa's  old  regiment.  But 
we'll  be  brave  and  patient,  you  and  mam- 
ma, and  say  nothing  to  anybody  about 
our  troubles.  We'll  pay  what  we  owe  as 
we  go  along.      Won't  we,  Phil  ?" 

"I  wish  I  could  help  some  way,  mam- 
ma." 

"You  can,  my  soldier  boy." 

He  looked  up  quickly  and  patted  her 
cheek;  then  threw  his  arm  around  her 
neck  again.  Something  told  him  what  it 
would  have  to  be. 

"  Maudie  is  a  baby  who  cannot  realize 
our  position.  Philip  is  my  brave  little 
knight  and  helper.  It — it  is  so  hard  for 
mamma  to  say  it,  my  boy,  but  if  we  buy 
what  she  so  longs  for  at  Christmas,  there 
will  be  nothing  left  for  the  skates,  and  I 
know  how  you  want  them,  and  how  many 
other  things  you  ought  to  have.  You 
have  helped  mother  so  often,  Phil.  Can 
you  help  her  once  more  ?" 

For  all  answer  he  only  clung  to  her 
the  closer. 

And  now  holiday  week  was  near  at 
hand.  It  was  Friday,  and  school  would 
close  that  afternoon,  and  for  two  blessed, 
blissful  w^eks  there  would  be  no  session 
at  all.  Cln'istmas  Day  would  come  on 
Tuesday,  and  the  Forties  were  running 
riot  in  the  realms  of  anticipation.  Tliey 
hugged  each  other  and  danced  about  the 
street  when  the  express  agent  told  them 
of  the  packages  that  were  coming  almost 
every  day  for  Captain  Eansom,  and  the 
little  Townies,  who  were  wont  to  protest 
they  were  glad  their  papas  weren't  in  the 
army,  were  beginning  to  show  traitorous 
.signs  of  weakening.      It  was  a  sore  test, 


if  every  regiment  had  its  own  Santa  Claus, 
as  the  Forties  said. 

And  older  heads  were  noting  that  for 
some  time  Captain  Ran.som  drove  not  so 
much  townw^ard,  up  the  valley  as  down ; 
and  that  there  was  a  well-defined  sleigh 
track  from  the  lower  gate  over  to  "the 
ranch."  OlRcers  coming  up  from  the 
stables  were  quick  to  note  the  new  fea- 
ture in  the  wintry  landscape,  and  to  make 
quizzical  comment  thereon.  Then,  on 
Sunday,  the  third  in  Advent,  a  heavy 
snow-storm  came  up  during  the  morning 
service,  and  the  wind  blew  a  "blizzard." 
It  was  only  a  few  weeks  after  the  Cap- 
tain's arrival,  but  his  handsome  roans 
were  well  known  in  the  valley  already, 
and  the  ladies  looked  at  each  other  and 
nodded  significantly  as  they  saw  the  team 
drawn  up  near  the  chapel  door  when  the 
congregation  came  shuddei'ing  out  into 
the  cold.  Mrs.  Colonel  Cross,  who  had 
a  charming  young  sister  visiting  her  for 
the  holidays,  and  Mrs.  Yane,  whose  cous- 
in Pansy  had  come  over  from  her  bro- 
ther's station  at  Fort  Whittlesey,  had  both 
offered  Ransom  seats  in  their  pews  until 
he  chose  his  own;  but  he  had  chosen  his 
own  very  promptly,  and  it  was  well  down 
the  aisle  opposite  that  to  which  Mrs.Cai-le- 
ton  had  humbly  retired  after  her  fathers 
death.  As  a  consequence  the  higher  fam- 
ilies reached  the  door  only  in  time  to  see 
the  Captain  bundling  the  widow  and  her 
little  ones  in  his  costly  robes,  and  driving 
away  through  the  whirling  storm. 

That  night  the  wind  died  away;  the 
snow  fell  heavily,  and  all  the  next  day 
it  lay  in  silent,  unruffled,  unfurro^■C'ed 
beauty  over  the  broad  level  below  the 
fort,  and  though  the  Captain's  sleigh  went 
townward  toward  evening,  and  the  butch- 
er's "  bob"  tore  an  ugly  groove  along  the 
lower  edge,  there  was  now  no  trail  other 
than  the  foot-path  alongthe  willow-fringed 
river-bank  joining  the  garrison  with  the 
widow's  gate.  When  Friday  came,  and 
the  plain  was  still  unfurrowed,  Foi*t  Rains 
was  unanimous  in  its  conclusion:  Cap- 
tain Ransom  had  offered  himself  again, 
and  been  rejected. 

The  households  of  Vane  and  Potts,  and 
the  ladies  at  least  at  the  Colonel's, breathed 
freer.  Captain  Ransom  was  invited  to 
Christmas  dinner  at  all  three  places,  and 
begged  to  be  excused.  He  explained 
that  he  purposed  having  all  the  children 
at  his  house  from  eight  to  ten  for  gen- 
eral frolic  that  evening:  and  would  not 


114 


HARPER'S  NEW  MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


the  ladies  come  over  and  see  the  fun  ? 
Mrs.  Vane  and  "Pansy"  were  for  chan- 
ging- their  dinner  hour  to  five  o'clock,  if 
thereby  the  Captain  could  be  secured,  and 
"Vane  "sounded"  him,  but  without  the 
hoped-for  result.  He  would  have  to  be 
at  home,  he  said.  Mrs.  Carleton  was  nar- 
rowly watched.  Women  who  had  been 
disposed  to  treat  her  coldly  could  have 
hugged  her  now,  if  they  could  be  sure  she 
had  really  refused  the  best  catch  in  the 
cavalry,  and  left  a  chance  for  some  one 
else.  But  Mrs.  Carleton  gave  no  sign, 
and  she  was  a  woman  they  dared  not 
question.  What  staggered  the  theory 
of  renewed  offer  and  rejection  was  the 
warmth  and  cordiality  of  manner  with 
which  they  met  in  public — and  they  met 
almost  daily.  There  was  something  that 
seemed  to  shatter  the  idea  of  rejection  in 
the  very  smile  she  gave  him,  and  in  the 
reverence  of  his  manner  towai'd  her.  Es- 
trangement there  certainly  was  none,  and 
yet  he  had  been  going  over  to  the  ranch 
every  day,  and  his  visits  had  suddenly 
ceased.  Why?  They  scanned  his  face 
for  indications;  but,  as  Mrs.  Vane  put  it, 
"he  always  was  an  cxasjierating  crea- 
ture; you  could  no  more  read  him  than 
you  could  a  mummy." 

Monday  before  Christmas  had  come, 
and  Colonel  Cross,  trudging  home  from 
his  office  about  noon,  caught  sight  of  the 
tall  and  graceful  figure  of  Mrs.  Carleton 
coming  toward  him  along  the  Avalk.  He 
was  about  to  hail  her  in  his  cheery  style, 
when  he  saw  that  her  head  was  bowed, 
and  that  she  was  in  evident  distress.  Even 
while  he  was  wondering  how  to  accost 
her,  she  put  him  out  of  doubt.  Her  lips 
were  twitching  and  her  cheeks  were  flusli- 
ed;  tears  were  starting  in  her  eyes,  but 
she  strove  hard  to  command  herself  and 
speak  calmly. 

"You  were  so  kind  as  to  order  the 
'  special'  for  me  this  morning.  Colonel,  but 
I  shall  not  need  it:  I  cannot  go  to  town." 

He  knew  well  that  something  had  gone 
wrong.  Blunt,  rugged  old  trooper  that 
he  was,  he  had  been  her  father's  intimate 
in  their  cadet  days,  and  he  wanted  to  be- 
friend her.  More  than  a  little  he  sus- 
pected that  hers  was  not  a  jiath  of  roses 
among  the  ladies  at  Rains.  In  his  pre- 
sence they  were  on  guard  over  their 
tongues,  but  he  had  not  been  command- 
ing officer  of  several  garrisons  for  no- 
thing. 

"  Mrs.  Carleton,"  he  impetuously  spoke, 


"something's  amiss.  Can't  you  tell  an 
old  fellow  like  me,  and  let  me — ah — settle 
things  ?    Surely  it  is  something  I  can  do." 

She  thanked  him  warmly.  It  was  no- 
thing in  which  he  could  be  of  service,  she 
declared,  trying  hard  to  smile:  she  was  a 
little  upset  and  could  not  go  to  town.  But 
he  saw  she  had  just  come  from  Mrs.  Vane's, 
and  he  knew  that  estimable  and  virtuous 
woman  thoroughly,  and  drew  his  conclu- 
sions. Whatever  was  wrong,  it  was  not 
unconnected  with  her  monitions  or  min- 
istrations— of  that  he  was  confident.  As 
for  Mrs.  Carleton,  she  turned  quickly  from 
the  fort  and  took  her  lonely,  winding  way 
among  the  willows  to  her  valley  home,  a 
heart-sick  woman. 

Counting  her  ways  and  means,  she  had 
found  that  to  pay  for  the  items  she  had 
promised  Maud  and  had  ordered  for  her 
boy — the  latter  being  the  suit  sent  "  C.  0. 
D."  from  Chicago — she  would  have  to  ask 
a  favor  of  her  patrons  at  the  fort.  She 
had  arranged  with  the  propi'ietor  of  the 
big  variety  store  in  town  that  he  should 
set  aside  for  her  a  certain  beautiful  doll 
and  one  of  the  prettiest  of  the  doll  car- 
riages, and  that  she  would  come  and  get 
them  on  this  very  afternoon.  To  meet 
her  bills  and  these  expenses,  and  that 
there  might  be  no  disappointment,  she 
had  addressed  to  the  jiarents  of  her  few 
pupils  a  modest  little  note,  enclosing  her 
bill,  and  asking  as  a  kindness  to  her  that 
it  might  be  paid  by  Saturday,  the  22d. 
Courteous  and  prompt  response  had 
come  from  all  but  two,  and  with  the 
money  thus  obtained  she  had  settled  her 
little  household  accounts.  Mrs.  Vane  and 
Mrs.  Potts,  however,  had  vouchsafed  no 
reply,  and  it  was  to  the  mothers,  not  the 
fathers,  her  notes  had  been  addressed. 
On  Monday  morning,  therefore,  when  she 
went  to  give  Miss  Adele  her  lesson,  slie 
ventured  to  ask  for  Mrs.  Potts,  and  Mrs. 
Potts  was  out — spending  the  day  at  Mrs. 
Vane's.  So  thither  she  went,  and  with 
flushing  cheeks  and  deep  embarrassment 
inquired  if  the  ladies  had  received  her 
notes.  Mrs.  Potts  had,  and  was  over- 
come, she  said,  with  dismay.  She  had  to- 
tally forgotten,  and  thouglit  it  w^as  next 
Saturday  she  meant;  and  now  the  Cap- 
tain had  gone  to  town,  and  there  was  no 
way  she  could  get  at  him.  Then  came 
Mrs.  Vane's  turn.  Mrs.  Vane,  too,  had  re- 
ceived her  note,  but  she  was  not  overcome. 
With  much  majesty  of  mien  she  told  the 
widow  that  she  always  paid  her  bills  on 


CAPTAIN  SANTA  CLAUS. 


lit 


the  last  day  of  the  quarter,  and  that  her 
husband  was  so  punctilious  about  it  and 
so  methodical  that  she  never  asked  him 
to  depart  from  the  rule.  Mrs.  Carleton 
strove  hard  to  keep  down  her  pride  and 
the  surg'ing  impulse  to  cry  out  against 
such  heartless  superiority  of  manner  and 
management.  There  "was  a  tinge  of  re- 
proach in  the  plea  she  forced  herself  to 
make  for  her  babies'  sake.  "You  know 
there  are  no  more  lessons  this  term,  Mrs. 
Vane;  my  work  is  done;  and  I — so  needed 
it  for  Christmas,  or  I  would  not  have  ask- 
ed." And  she  smiled  x^iteously  through 
the  starting  tears.  Mrs.  Vane  was  sorry 
— very  sorry.  She  could  hardly  ask  her 
husband  to  depart  from  his  life-long  prac- 
tice, even  if  he  were  here — and  he,  too, 
had  gone  to  town. 

Yes,  everybody  seemed  to  have  gone 
or  sent  to  town  for  Christmas  shopping. 
Her  little  ones  were  alone  in  having  no 
one  to  buy  for  them.  Harold  Ransom 
too  was  going,  for  she  saw  the  handsome 
roans  come  dashing  up  the  drive,  as  she 
rose,  with  a  burning  sense  of  indignity,  to 
take  her  leave.  She  came  upon  Miss 
Pansy  in  the  hallway,  all  hooded  and 
furred,  and  beaming  with  bliss  at  the  pros- 
pect of  a  sleigh-ride  to  town — behind  the 
roans,  no  doubt.  Never  mind  that  now. 
Her  heart  was  full  of  only  one  thought— 
her  babies.  Where  were  now  her  long- 
cherished  schemes?  All  Fort  Rains  was 
blitheand  jubilant  over  the  coming  festivi- 
ties ;  Maud  was  wild  with  anticipation  ;  and 
she  alone — she  alone,  who  had  worked  so 
hard  and  faithfully  that  her  children 
might  find  joy  in  their  Christmas  awak- 
ing— she  alone  had  seen  her  hopes  turn  to 
ashes.  In  her  pride  and  her  vehement  de- 
termination to  be  "beholden"  to  no  one, 
she  would  seek  no  help  in  her  trouble. 
She  went  home,  asking  only  to  be  alone, 
thankful  that  the  children  were  spending 
the  day  with  friends  in  the  garrison,  and 
could  not  be  there  to  see  the  misery  in  her 
eyes. 

Full  an  hour  she  gave  to  her  uncon- 
trollable grief,  locked  in  her  room,  sob- 
bing in  utter  i^rostration.  Her  eyes  were 
still  red  and  swollen  ;  she  was  weak,  trem- 
bling, exhausted,  when  the  sudden  sound 
of  hoof-beats  roused  her.  The  blood  flew 
to  her  cheeks.  Despite  her  prohibition, 
then,  he  was  here.  He  had  come  again, 
and  something  told  her  he  had  fathomed 
her  trouble,  and  would  not  be  denied. 
She  heard  the  quick,  firm  tread  upon  the 


steps,  the  imperative  rat -tat -tat  of  the 
whip-handle  on  the  door.  She  could  have 
called  to  her  faitliful  slave  Mrs.  Malloy, 
the  "striker's"  wife,  who  had  known  her 
from  babyhood,  and  bidden  her  tell  the 
Captain  she  must  be  excused,  but  it  was 
too  late.  Bridget  Malloy  had  seen  her 
face  when  she  came  home;  had  vainly 
striven  to  enter  her  room  and  share  her 
sorrow ;  had  slu'ewdh^  suspected  the  cause 
of  the  trouble,  and  through  the  key-hole 
had  poured  forth  voluble  Hibernian  fealty 
and  proffers  of  every  blessed  cent  of  her 
savings,  but  only  to  be  implored  to  go 
away  and  let  her  have  her  cry  in  peace. 
Even  had  Mrs.  Carleton  ordered  her  to 
deny  her  to  the  visitor,  it  is  probable  that 
Mrs.  Malloy  would  have  obeyed — her  own 
instinct^. 

"Sure  it's  glad  I  am  to  see  the  Cap- 
tain!" was  her  prompt  greeting;  "and  it 
was  a  black  day  that  ever  let  ye  go  from 
her.  Come  right  in,  an'  I'll  call  her  to  ye. 
It's  all  broke  up  she  is." 

And  so  she  had  to  come.  Tbere  he 
stood  in  the  little  sanctuary  where  Philip 
in  photographed  beauty  beamed  down 
upon  her  from  over  the  mantel,  and  Phil- 
ip's I'usting  sword  hung  like  that  of  Dam- 
ocles by  the  fragile  thread  of  sentiment 
that  bound  her  to  the  past.  There  he  stood 
with  such  a  world  of  tenderness,  yearning, 
sympathj^  and  suppressed  and  passionate 
love  in  his  dark  eyes!  She  came  in,  al- 
most backward,  striving  to  hide  her  swol- 
len and  disfigured  face.  He  never  strove 
to  approach  her.  With  one  hand  on  the 
mantel,  he  stood  gazing  sorrowfully  at 
her.  With  one  hand  on  the  door-knob, 
with  averted  face,  she  silently  awaited  his 
words. 

"  I  have  disobeyed  you,  Kate,  though  I 
left  my  sleigh  and  caiTie  on  Roscoe.  I 
have  tried  to  accept  what  you  said  eight 
days  ago,  but  no  man  on  earth  who  has 
heard  what  I  have  heard  to-day  could 
obey  you  longer.  No.  Listen  !"  he  urged, 
as  she  half  turned,  with  silencing  gesture. 
"I'm  not  here  to  plead  for  myself,  but — 
my  heart  is  breaking  to  see  you  suffering, 
and  to  think  of  your  being  subjected  to 
such  an  outrage  as  that  of  this  morning. 
Of  course  I  heard  of  it.  I  made  them  tell 
me.  The  Colonel  had  seen  your  distress, 
and  told  me  you  had  abandoned  the  trip 
to  town.  I  found  out  the  rest.  Yes,  Mrs. 
Carleton,  if  you  so  choose  to  term  it"  (for 
she  had  tui-ned  with  indignant  query  in 
her  eyes),  "  I  pried  into  your  affairs.     Do 


116 


HARPER'S  NEW  MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


you  tliink  I  can  beai'  this,  to  know  you 
are  in  want — for  want  it  must  be,  or  you'd 
never  have  stooped  to  ask  that  vulgar, 
purse-proud,  patronizing  woman  for  mon- 
ey ?  Do  you  think  I  can  live  here  and  see 
you  subjected  to  this?  By  Heaven!  If 
nothing  else  will  move  you,  in  Philip's 
name,  in  your  children's  name,  let  me  lift 
this  burden  from  you.  Send  me  across 
the  continent  if  you  like.  I'll  promise  to 
worry  you  no  more,  if  that  will  buy  your 
trust.  I've  lived  and  borne  my  lot  these 
eight  or  nine  long  years,  and  can  bear  it 
longer  if  need  be.  What  I  can't  bear, 
and  won't  bear,  is  your  suffering  from  act- 
ual poverty.  Kate  Carleton,  won't  you 
trust  me  ?" 

"How  can  I  be  your  debtor.  Captain 
Ransom  ?  Ask  yourself — ask  any  one — 
what  would  be  said  of  me  if  I  took  one 
cent  from  you!  I  do  thank  you.  I  am 
grateful  for  all  you  have  done  and  would 
do.  Oh,  it  is  not  that  I  do  not  bless  you 
every  day  and  night  for  being  so  thought- 
ful for  me,  so  good  to  my  little  ones !  It 
wasn't  for  myself  I  was  so  broken  to-day ; 
it  was  for  my — my  babies.  Oh,  I — I  can- 
not tell  you !" 

And  now  she  broke  down  utterly,  weep- 
iiig  hysterically,  uncontrollably.  In  the 
abandonment  of  her  grief  she  threw  her 
arms  upon  the  wooden  casing  of  the  door- 
way, and  bowed  her  head  upon  them. 
One  instant  he  stood  there,  his  hands 
fiercely  clinching,  his  broad  chest  heav- 
ing, his  bronzed,  honest,  earnest  face 
working  with  his  weight  of  emotion,  and 
then,  with  uncontrollable  impulse,  with 
one  bound  he  leaped  to  her  side,  seized 
her  slender  form  in  his  arms,  and  clasped 
her  to  his  breast.  In  vain  she  struggled; 
in  vain  her  startled  eyes,  filled  with  reso- 
lute loyalty  to  the  old  faith,  blazed  at  him 
through  their  mist  of  tears:  he  held  her 
close,  as  once  again,  despite  her  struggles 
and  her  forbidding  words,  he  poured  forth 
his  plea. 

"You  can  take  it,  you  must  take  it. 
For  your  own  sake,  for  your  children's 
sake — even  for  his! — give  me  the  right  to 
protect  and  cherish  you.  I — I  don't  ask 
your  love.  Ah,  Kate,  be  merciful!"  and 
then — fatal  inspiration! — but  the  face  he 
loved  was  so — so  near  ;  he  never  would 
have  done  it  had  he  thought:  it  was  only 
as  utterly  unconquerable  an  impulse  as 
his  wild  embrace  ;  his  lips  were  so  tremu- 
lous with  entreaty,  with  love,  sympathy, 
pleading,   pity,   passion,  everything   that 


impelled  and  nothing  that  restrained,  that 
with  sudden  sweep  they  fell  upon  her 
flushed  and  tear- wet  cheek,  and  ere  he 
knew  it  lie  had  kissed  her. 

There  w^as  no  mistaking  the  wrath  in 
her  eyes  now.  She  was  free  in  an  in- 
stant, and  bidding  him  begone.  He  begged 
hard  for  pardon,  but  to  no  purpose.  She 
would  listen  to  nothing.  Go  he  must — 
his  presence  was  insult.  And  he  left  her 
panting  with  indignation,  a  vengeance- 
hurling  goddess,  a  wild-eyed  Juno,  while 
he  at  full  gallop  went  tearing  thi'ough 
the  snow-drifts,  recklessly,  dolefully,  yet 
determinedly,  back  to  the  post.  In  half 
an  hour  he  was  whipping  to  town. 

When  sunset  came,  and  the  evening 
gun  awakened  the  echoes  of  the  snow- 
shrouded  valley,  and  the  red  disk  went 
down  behind  the  crested  bluffs  far  up  the 
stream,  a  sleigh  came  out  from  the  fort, 
and  Captain  Vane,  with  curious  mixture 
of  cordiality  and  embai'rassment,  restored 
Phil  and  Maud  to  the  maternal  roof,  and 
begged  to  hand  her  the  amount  due  from 
him  and  from  Captain  Potts  for  family 
tuition.  He  had  only  heard  a — accident- 
ally—  a  few  minutes  before,  of  her  re- 
quest. And  wasn't  there  something  else 
he  could  do  ?  Would  she  not  go  to  town 
with  him  to  -  morrow  moi*ning  ?  She 
thanked  him.  She  hardly  knew  what  to 
do.  Here  was  the  money  at  last,  but  it 
was  Christmas  Eve  now,  and  there  was 
no  time  to  be  lost,  and  town  lay  full  six 
miles  away.  Perhaps  she  wished  a  mes- 
senger now,  suggested  the  Captain — he 
would  send  in  a  mounted  man  gladly. 
Knowing  no  other  way  to  secure  her  trea- 
sures for  her  little  ones,  she  breathlessly 
accepted  his  offer,  briefly  explained  the 
situation,  and  told  him  how  she  longed  to 
have  the  presents  there,  with  the  trifles 
she  had  made  for  them,  to  greet  their  eyes 
with  the  coming  day.  The  messenger 
could  go  to  the  store  and  get  the  coveted 
doll  and  carriage  ;  there  would  surely  be 
sleighs  from  the  fort  that  would,  bring 
them  out  for  him,  and  he  would  find  the 
box  from  Chicago  at  the  express  office, 
and  could  pay  the  charges  and  sign  the 
receipt  on  her  written  order  to  the  agent. 
It  was  arranged  in  a  moment,  and  with 
I'eviving  hope  she  gave  the  children  their 
tea  and  sti-ove  to  get  them  early  to  bed. 

Ten  o'clock  came.  The  little  ones  were 
at  last  asleep.  She  had  filled  the  stock- 
ings with  such  inexpensive  but  loving  re- 
membrances as  she  could  afford,  and  had 


CAPTAIN  SANTA  CLAUS. 


117 


ONE    MOMENT    MORE    AND    HER    BIGGEST    LANTERN    SWUNG    GLOWING    IN    THE    WINDOW. 


tottered  dangerously  near  the  brink  of  an- 
other flood  of  tears,  when  Malloy  and  his 
wife  came  in,  the  one  with  a  box  of  tools 
for  Phil,  the  other  with  a  set  of  china  for 
tlie  doll  house.  She  had  finally  bidden 
those  faithful  friends  good-night,  and  hav- 
ing arranged  the  few  gifts  she  had  for  the 
children,  she  threw  over  her  shoulders  a 
lieavy  shawl,  and  went  to  the  gate  to  lis- 
ten for  the  messenger's  return. 

It  was  a  perfect  night — clear,  still,  and 
sparkling.  The  moon  shone  brightly  upon 
the  glistening  mantle  of  snow,  and  tinged 
with    silver    the   pine    crests    across    the 

Vol.  LXXVI.— No.  451.— 9 


stream.  Westward,  on  a  little  rise,  were 
the  twinkling  lights  of  the  fort.  Far  be- 
yond, far  up  the  narrowing  valley,  other 
lights,  dim  and  distant,  marked  the  posi- 
tion of  the  town.  She  could  hear  the 
faint,  muffled  sound  of  shots  with  which 
the  benighted  but  jubilant  frontiersmen 
were  hailing  the  coming  of  the  sacred  an- 
niversary, like  some  midwinter  Fourth  of 
July,  with  exuberant  and  explosive  hilar- 
ity. Then,  nearer  at  hand,  soft,  sweet, 
and  solemn,  there  floated  out  over  the 
valley  the  prolonged  notes  of  the  cavalry 
trumpet    sounding    the    signal    "Lights 


118 


HARPER'S  NEW  MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


out,"  the  "  good-niglif'  of  the  garrison. 
Then  all  the  broad  windows  of  the  bar- 
racks -were  shrouded  in  sudden  gloom; 
only  in  the  quarters  of  the  officers,  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  parade,  were  the  lights 
still  twinkling.  In  one  of  them,  nearest 
the  gate,  high  up  aloft,  and  close  under 
the  gables,  there  gleamed  a  brighter  light 
than  all  the  others.  Even  in  the  chilly 
air  she  felt  the  flush  of  blood  to  her  cheeks. 
That  was  Ransom's  house.  She  well  knew 
he  had  chosen  it,  farthest  from  the  quar- 
ters and  stables  of  his  troop,  sim^^ly  be- 
cause it  was  at  the  end  of  the  row,  over- 
looking the  valley,  and  nearest  her.  Two 
weeks  since  he  had  said  to  her  that  he 
could  not  rid  himself  of  the  thought  of 
her  isolation.  Though  off  the  beaten 
ti-ack  a  full  three-quarter  mile,  and  with- 
in long  carbine  range  of  the  sentries,  she 
was  still  far  away,  almost  unprotected. 
Though  Indians  were  no  longer  to  be 
feared,  there  were  such  things  as  tramps 
and  blackguards  in  the  settlements.  She 
laughed  at  his  fears.  She  had  lived  thei'e 
three  years,  and  never  heard  a  sound  at 
night  other  than  the  occasional  howl  of 
a  coyote  and  the  distant  watch-cry  of  the 
sentries.  She  had  brave  old  Malloy  with 
his  gun,  and  Bridget  with  her  tongue  and 
nails  ;  she  had  Philip's  sword,  her  own 
brave  spirit,  and  her  boy:  what  had  she 
to  fear  ? 

All  the  same,  struggle  against  it  though 
she  would,  it  was  sweet  to  hear  his  anx- 
ious questioning.  Even  if  unmolested  by 
marauders,  something  might  go  wrong — 
Maudie  have  croup,  a  kerosene  lamp 
burst.  She  might  need  help.  Who 
knew?  "I  shall  put  a  bright  lamp  and 
reflector  in  the  little  round  gari'et  window 
every  night  as  soon  as  I  get  home,"  he 
said,  "and  should  you  ever  be  in  danger 
or  need,  throw  a  red  handkerchief  over 
your  biggest  lantern,  and  show  it  at  the 
top  window.  If  the  sentries  don't  see  it 
at  once,  fire  Malloy's  gun."  She  prom- 
ised, laughingly,  though  repudiating  the 
possibility.  She  had  told  hex'self  that 
Philip's  spirit  was  all  the  protection  she 
needed;  but  the  night  landscape  of  the 
valley,  the  night  lights  at  the  fort,  had 
acquired  of  late  an  interest  they  never 
knew  before.  She  would  have  scourged 
herself  had  she  believed,  she  would  have 
stormed  at  any  one  who  suggested,  that 
she  went  to  look  for  his  light;  but  if  ever 
it  failed  to  be  thei^e,  at  ten  or  eleven  or 
later,  she  knew  it.     Whatever  might  be 


his  evening  occupation  at  the  fort — a  din- 
ner, a  card  party,  officers'  school,  "non- 
coms.'"  recitation — it  was  his  habit  on 
reaching  home  to  go  at  once  to  the  garret 
and  post  his  sentinel  light.  What  would 
he  not  have  given  I'or  an  answering 
signal  ? 

And  there  was  the  light  now.  He  was 
home,  then,  and  despite  her  anger  and 
his  banisliment,  he  was  faithful.  Clu-ist- 
mas  Eve,  and  only  ten,  and  he  was  home 
and  watching  over  her.  She  was  still 
quivering  with  wrath  at  him  for  that  rav- 
ished kiss — at  least  she  told  herself  she 
was,  and  had  told  him  a  great  deal  more. 
Was  it  quite  fair  to  drive  him  from  her 
home,  as  slie  had,  when  Phil  was  so  fond 
of  him  and  Maudie  loved  him  so,  and  he 
was  so  devoted  to  them  ?  What  could 
he  be  doing  at  home  so  early  ?  There 
was  a  party  at  the  Adjutant's,  she  knew. 
She  had  been  obliged  to  decline.  She 
had  three  invitations  for  Christmas  din- 
ners, and  had  said  no  to  all,  grateftilly. 
There  wei'e  many  who  wanted  to  be  kind 
to  her,  but  she  had  only  one  dress  she 
considered  fit  to  wear,  so  too  had  little 
Maud,  and  as  for  her  brave  boy  Phil,  he 
had  nothing — unless  the  suit  from  Chi- 
cago came  in  time.  Without  that  he  could 
not  go  to  the  Captain's  Christmas  tree. 
Why  did  not  the  messenger  return  ?  She 
was  becoming  feverishly  anxious. 

It  Avas  too  cold  to  remain  out-of-doors. 
She  re-entered,  and  paced  fitfully  up  and 
down  her  little  parlor.  She  went  in  and 
bent  over  her  sleeping  children,  and  re- 
ari-anged  the  coverlets  with  the  noiseless 
touch  of  the  mother's  hand;  she  leaned 
over  and  kissed  them  softly,  and  now  that 
her  surcharged  nature  had  had  free  vent, 
and  the  skies  were  cleared  by  the  morn- 
ing's storm,  she  felt  far  gentler,  happier. 
Her  cry  had  done  her  good.  Her  hope- 
fulness was  returning — but  not  the  mes- 
senger. What  coitZd  detain  him  ?  Where 
could  he  be  ?  It  was  eleven,  and  long  af- 
ter, when  at  last  she  sighted  a  shadowy 
hoi'seman  loping  across  the  moonlit  plain, 
and  slowly  he  dismounted  at  her  gate  and 
came  to  her — empty-handed.  He  was  a 
soldier  of  Vane's  troop,  and  his  tale  was 
doleful.  He  had  been  set  upon  in  a  sa- 
loon, robbed,  and  beaten.  The  money 
Avas  gone,  he  had  brought  back  nothing 
but  bruises.  As  consolation  he  imparted 
the  fact  that  'twas  too  late  to  get  the  doll 
and  carriage.  The  last  ones  had  been 
sold  that  evening,  as  she  had  not  come  to 


CAPTAIN  SANTA  GLAUS. 


119 


claim  them.  Then  he  had  stepped  iu  to 
take  a  drink,  because  he  was  cold,  and 
then  the  catastrophe  had  occurred.  True 
or  false  as  might  be  the  stoi-y,  there  was  no 
doubt  of  the  veracity  of  that  portion  which 
referred  to  the  driuk.  Conscious  that  it 
was  too  late  to  do  anything-  at  this  hour, 
she  simply  dismissed  him,  bidding  him  go 
at  once  to  the  post,  barred  and  locked  her 
door,  and  sat  down,  stunned  and  heai't- 
sick.  This,  then,  was  the  joyous  Christ- 
mas for  which  she  had  worked  so  long 
and  hard  I  She  raised  her  arms  in  one 
last  appeal  to  Heaven ;  then  threw  herself 
upon  her  knees  beside  her  little  ones,  and 
buried  her  face  in  her  quivering  hands. 
What  Avould  their  early  waking  bring  to 
them  now  but  disappointment  ?  For  half 
an  hour  she  knelt  there  helpless,  stunned. 
Then  lifted  her  head — startled. 

Somebody  was  fumbling  at  the  storm- 
door.  With  her  heart  in  her  throat,  she 
listened,  incredulous,  fearful,  then  con- 
vinced. The  boards  creaked  and  snapped 
beneath  a  heavy,  stealthy  tread.  She 
heard  beyond  doubt  a  muttered  question, 
a  reply.  There  were  two  of  them,  then  I 
All  was  darlvness  in  her  pai-lor  now,  only 
the  light  burned  in  the  children's  room. 
Her  heart  bounded,  but  she  stole,  despite 
trembling  knees,  noiselessly,  into  the  par- 
lor, stooped,  and  peered  through  the  slats, 
and,  sure  as  fate,  two  men,  burly,  muffled 
so  that  they  were  unrecognizable,  were 
bending  down  at  the  storm-house  in  front 
of  her  parlor  door.  Quickly  .she  rose,  scur- 
ried through  the  parlor,  up  the  stairs  to 
the  room  above  the  kitchen,  where  she 
rapped  heavily  at  the  door.  "MalloyI 
Malloy!"  she  cried.  No  answer  but  a 
snore  and  heavy  breathing.  She  rattled 
the  knob  and  called  again.  This  time 
with  success. 

"Who  is't  ?"  was  the  startled  chal- 
lenge. 

"It  is  I— Mrs.  Carleton!  Quick,  Mal- 
loy !  Two  men  are  trying  to  break  in  at 
the  front  door." 

She  heai'd  the  bound  with  which  the 
old  soldier  leaped  to  the  floor.  She  ran 
into  the  front  room.  One  quick  glaiice 
showed  her  Ransom's  signal-light  blazing 
across  the  mile  of  snow.  One  moment 
more,  and  muffled  in  red  silk,  her  biggest 
lantern  swung  glowing  in  the  window. 
Then  down  the  stairs  she  hurried  to  her 
children,  just  as  Malloy,  with  his  carbine, 
and  Bridget,  with  a  six-shooter,  swept  gal- 
lantly into  action.     She  heard  his  fierce 


summons,  "  Who  shtands  there  V  and  lis- 
tened breathlessly.  No  i-esponse.  ' ' Who's 
dhere,  I  say  V  Dead  silence.  Not  even 
scurrying  footsteps.  She  crept  to  the  win- 
dow and  peered  out.  No  one  near.  She 
raised  the  sash,  threw  open  a  shutter,  and 
gazed  abroad.  The  little  piazza  was  de- 
serted, unless  both  were  hiding  inside  the 
storm-house.  No!  See!  Over  among  the 
willows  by  the  stream  there  are  shadowy 
figures  and  a  sleigh. 

"They've  gone,  Malloy!  They  are  up 
the  river-bank  with  a  sleigh !"'  she  called. 
And  then  she  heard  him  furiously  un- 
barring the  parlor  door  preparatory  to 
a  rush.  She  heard  it  swing  open,  an 
impetuous  sally,  a  collision,  a  crash,  the 
clatter  of  a  dropped  cax'bine  against  the 
resounding  wood-work,  a  complication  of 
anathemas  and  objurgations  from  the  dark 
interior,  and  then  a  dialogue  in  choice 
Hibernian. 

"Are  ye  hurted,  Terence  ?" 

"I  am.  Bad  scran  to  the  blagyai'ds 
that  left  their  thrunk  behind  'em  !" 

Trunk  !  what  trunk  ?  She  bore  a  light 
into  the  pai'lor,  and  revealed  Malloy,  with 
rueful  visage,  doubled  up  over  a  big  wood- 
en box  planted  squarely  in  the  doorway. 
Robbers,  indeed!  Mrs.  Bridget  whisked 
him  out  of  the  way,  ran  and  closed  the 
children's  door,  and  in  another  moment 
had  lugged  the  big  box  into  the  parlor, 
and  wrenched  away  the  top.  The  two 
women  were  on  their  knees  befoi'e  it  in 
an  instant. 

First  they  dragged  forth  a  great  flat  pa- 
per box,  damp  and  cool  and  moist,  and 
this  the  widow  opened  tremblingly.  A 
flat  layer  of  white  cotton,  dry;  then  pa- 
per; a  flat  layer  of  white  cotton,  moist; 
and  then,  peep!  Upon  the  fresh,  green 
coils  of  smilax,  rich  with  fragrance, 
sweet,  moist,  dewy,  exquisite,  lay  store 
upon  store  of  the  choicest  flowers— rose 
buds  and  rose  blossoms  in  cream  and  yel- 
low and  pink  and  crimson,  carnations  in 
white  and  red,  heliotrope  and  hyacinth, 
and  fairest  pansies,  and  modest  little  vio- 
lets, and  gorgeous  tulips,  even  great  callas 
— the  first  flowers  she  had  seen  in  years. 
Oh,  Captain  Santa  Claus!  who  taught 
you  Christmas  wooing  !  Where  learned 
you  such  art  as  this  ?  Beneath  the  box 
was  yet  another,  bearing  the  stamp  of  the 
great  Chicago  firm,  sealed,  corded,  just  as 
he  had  got  it  from  the  agent  that  evening 
—Phil's  longed-for  suit.  She  hugged  it 
Avith  delight,  while    tears   started  to  her 


120 


HARPER'S  NEW   MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


dancing  eyes.  How  good  he  was !  How 
thoughtful  for  her  and  for  lier  little  ones ! 
There,  beneath,  was  the  very  wliite  doll  car- 
riage, blue  lining,  umbrella  top,  and  all, 
wherein  reposed  a  wondrous  wax  doll,  the 
like  of  which  Maud  had  never  dreamed. 
There  was  a  tin  kitchen  with  innumerable 
appendages.  There  was  a  glistening  pair 
of  club  skates  of  finest  steel  and  latest 
patent,  the  very  thing  tliat  Phil  so  longed 
for,  and  had  so  lovingly  resigned.  There 
were  fur  cap  and  gloves  and  boots  for  him, 
and  such  an  elegant  shawl  for  Mrs.  Mal- 
loy!  He  could  send  them  all  he  chose, 
and  no  offence.  But  to  her— on  her  he 
could  lavish  only  flowers. 

And  then  her  Irish  allies  returned  to 
their  slumbers,  and  left  her  to  the  rapture 
of  arranging  the  new  presents  and  tlie 
contemplation  of  her  flowers  ;  and  she 
was  hugging  the  big  pasteboard  box  and 
gloating  over  her  treasures  wlien  there 
was  sudden  noise  without,  a  rush  up  the 
steps,  and  before  she  could  droj)  her  pos- 
sessions the  door  flew  open,  and  in  came 
a  wild-eyed,  breathless  captain  of  caval- 
ry, gasping  the  apparently  unwarranta- 
ble queiy,  "  What's  the  matter?'' 

For  an  instant  she  stared  at  him  in  as- 
tonishment. Holding  tight  her  flowers, 
she  gazed  at  his  agitated  face.  "Nothing," 
she  answered.  "How  could  anything  be 
wrong  when  you  have  been  so — so — " 
But  words  failed  her. 

"Why!  your  red  light's  burning!"  he 
explained. 

"  I  declare  !     I  forgot  all  about  it!" 

Then  another  silence.  He  threw  him- 
self back  in  an  arm-chair,  breathing  hard, 
and  striving  to  recover  his  composure. 


"Do  you  mean — didn't  you  mean  to 
signal  for  help  ?"  he  finally  asked. 

"  Yes,  I  did" — an  arch  and  mischievous 
smile  now  brightening  her  face.  "When 
I  swung  it  I  wanted  you  to  come  quick 
and  drive — yourself  away." 

Tben  she  put  down  her  box,  and  stepped 
impulsively  toward  him,  two  white  hands 
outstretched,  tears  starting  from  her  eyes, 
tlie  color  surging  to  her  lovely  face — 
"Where  can  I  find  words  to  thank  you, 
Ca])tain  Santa  Claus  ?" 

He  rose  quickly,  his  face  flushed  and 
eager,  his  strong  hands  trembling. 

"Shall  I  tell  you  ?"  he  asked. 

Her  head  was  drooping  now;  her  eyes 
could  not  meet  the  fervent  love  and  long- 
ing in  his;  her  bosom  heaved  with  every 
breath.  She  could  only  stand  and  trem- 
ble when  he  seized  her  hands. 

"Kate,  will  you  take  back  what  you 
said  to-day  V 

She  stole  one  glance  into  his  passionate, 
pleading  eyes,  and  her  head  drooped  lower. 

"  Can't  you  take  it  back,  Kate  ?" 

A  moment's  pause.  At  last  the  an- 
swer. "How  can  I,  unless — unless  you 
take  back  what  you — what  caused  it  ?" 

Never  before  had  the  little  Carletons 
waked  to  such  a  radiant  Christmas  morn- 
ing. Never  had  the  Forties  known  so 
royal  a  Christmas  tree.  Never  before 
was  "Uncle  Hal's"  so  thronged  with 
beaming  faces  and  happy  hearts.  But 
among  all  the  little  ones  whom  his  love 
and  thoughtful ness  had  blessed  there  was 
no  face  that  shone  Avith  bliss  more  radi- 
ant, with  joy  more  deep  and  perfect,  than 
that  of  Captain  Santa  Claus. 


ANTHONY   OF  PADUA. 

BY  HARRIET  LEWIS  BRADLEY. 


THIS  story  with  its  simple  rhyme, 
This  picture  by  a  hand  sublime. 
Spring  from  a  legend,  in  the  time 
Of  Anthony  of  Padua. 

Some  doubt  had  cast  its  shadows  strong 
Upon  the  Saint,  who  well  and  long 
Fought  manfully  to  right  this  wrong — 
Fought  day  and  night  in  Padua. 

Till  in  his  arms,  so  it  is  told, 
Tlie  Saint  did  his  dear  Lord  enfold, 
And  there  appeared  a  light  ]\ke  gold 
From  out  the  skies  of  Padua. 


"O  Chi-ist  Child,  art  thou  come  to  me! 
With  wonder  sweet  I  welcome  Tlue. 
O  Christ  Cliild,  can  this  wonder  be!" 
Cried  Anthony  of  Padua. 

"I  thank  Thee,  Blessed  One,  for  this. 
Forgive  what  I  have  done  amiss! 
And  let  me  greet  Thee  with  a  kiss. 
Thou  Dear  One,  come  to  Padua!" 

"To  him  who  struggles  with  his  might 
Our  Lord  has  promised  to  bring  light 
And  glory,  as  of  lilies  wbite," 
The  angels  sang  in  Padua. 


BILLY  RAY'S  WEDDING, 

A  Buffalo  correspondent  says:  "A  well-know  Buffalo  boy  some  \ears  since 
witnessed  the  military  wedding  in  Milwaukee  which  was  the  prototype  of  tlie 
cavalry  wedding  in  "Marion's  Faith,"  one  of  the  most  popular  of  the  delightful 
Army  stories  of  Captain  King.  This  was  the  marriage  of  Margaret  Sanderson 
to  Captain  Otho  W.  iludd.  Troop  C,  4th  Cavalry,  which  was  held  in  a  Milwau- 
kee church  in  June,  1884.  Captain  and  Mrs.  King  were  both  at  this  wedding. 
The  Buffalo  boy  says  that  every  item  in  King's  account  was  given  just  as  it  oc- 
curred in  Milwaukee.  The  amusing  incident  of  IJlake  and  the  i)ridegronm. 
"Billy"  Ray,  finding  the  vestry  door  locked  against  them,  the  suggestion  of 
Blake's  that  he  heave  a  brick  through  the  window,  and  crawl  in  at  the  risk  of 
spoiling  their  uniforms,  and  the  final  act  of  tlie  twain  in  going  to  tlie  front  ol 
the  church  and  clanking  up  a  side  aisle  not  a  moment  too  soon  for  the  Crremo- 
ny  are  vouched  for  as  having  actually  occurred.  It  might  be  interesting  to  add 
that  the  Buffalo  boy  who  witnessed  this  wedding  was  Chauncv  .M.  Depew. 
nephew  and  namesake  of  the  President  of  the  New  York  Central  Railroad." 

Ar/fiv  mil/  Xai'v  Jfljinial. 


THE  COLONEL'S  ORDERLY, 

Flyxx  was  a  character,  despite  the  fact  that  liis  discharge-papers  couldn't 
vouch  for  it.  He  was  a  shock-headed  Portlander,  with  an  affiliation  for  whiskey 
and  tlie  guard-house,  emerging  thence  l:)etween  sprees  with  brilliant  resolutions 
for  reform  and  a  determination  to  achieve  greatness  that  lasted  till  next  pay-day 
provided  he  couldn't  get  trusted  meantime.  Flynn  had  but  one  enemy  in  the 
garrison, — himself. — but  outside  the  walls  their  name  was  legion.  Two  roads 
led  to  town;  both  roads  were  lined  with  groggeries,  and  "Red  Rory,"  as  the  sol- 
diers dubbed  him.  never  succeeded  in  getting  beyond  the  second  corner.  After 
the  first  drink  all  roads  were  as  one  to  .Mr.  Flynn.  All  roads  led  to  the  guard- 
house, and,  as  Lieutenait  Wa'.erman  villainously  paraphrased  it, — 

'"The  path  of  Rory  leads  but  to  tlie  gaol." 

.\nd  yet,  when  Flynn  wanted  to,  he  "took  orderly"  four  times  out  of  five 
and  nobodv  accused  the  adjutant  of  the  faintest  partiality,  for  as  orderly  for  the 
commanding  officer  l^rivate  Flynn  was  the  bane  of  the  adjutant's  existence. 
The  colonel,  on  the  contrarv.  was  prouder  of  him  than  old  .Mr.  Wardle  of  the 
fat  Ijov  of  Dingley  Dell.  It  was  shrewdly  suspected  that  the  men  used  to  turn 
to  and  contribute  their  efforts  in  dressing  and  equiping  Flynn  for  the  contest  at 
guardmounting,  with  the  view  of  making  his  appearance  absolutely  beyond  crit- 
icism; for  Rorv  was  a  genuine  "Handy  Andy."  His  l)lunders  were  the  glory 
of  the  garison,  and  it  was  believed  that  the  old  colonel  used  to  manufacture  per- 
j  Icxing  messages  lor  the  express  purpose  of  seeing  how  Flynn  could  distort 
them. 

.\s  orderly  for  the  colonel,  and  when  bearer  of  his  messages,  Private  Flynn 
comported  himself  with  a  solemnity  of  demeanor  and  a  machine-like  precision 
that  would  have  made  him  a  '-jewel  of  an  undertaker."  Between  the  post-sur- 
geon and  the  colonel  there  existed  a  long-tried  friendship.  They  sometimes  sat 
up  late  together,  and,  as  the  result  of  such  protracted  sessions,  the  colonel  had 
an  occasional  morning  headache.  The  doctor  disbelieved  in  cocktails,  but  had 
a  specific  in  the  shaj^e  of  French  cordial-bitters,  labeled  "Stomaquique,"  and 
generally  alluded  to  by  that  questionable  title.  One  balmy  spring  morning,  as 
the  bugles  were  ringing  out  the  first  call  for  guard-mounting,  "full  dress,"  and  a 
bevy  of  young  ladies,  with  their  attendant  beaus,  had  gathered  on  the  parade  to 
see  the  sights  and  do  a  limited  amount  of  flirting  before  the  officers  should  be 
summoned  to  the  customary  //latiiice,  the  doctor  stopped  in  their  midst,  ex- 
changing gay  salutations  with  the  party,  when  the  noisy  chatter  was  interrupted 
by  the  apparition  of  Flynn,  erect,  motionless,  standing  at  right-hand  salute. 

"What  is  it,  orderly.'^"  asked  a  subaltern. 

"Message  from  the  colonel  for  the  docther,  sorr;"  and  silence  fell  upon  the 
group,  that  he  might  deliver  his  message  as  the  doctor  faced  him, — siLnce  that 
gave  place  to  a  shout  of  irrepressible  merriment  before  the  doctor  could  escape. 

"The  currnTs  compliments  to  the  docther,  sorr,  and  wad  he  plaze  sind  him  a 
dose  of  the  sthummick  ache?"' 

'•'•Matinee"'  was  unu.^ually  lively  that  day.  C.  K. 


RIDINQ  FOR  GLORY 

On  the  Back  of  the  Lithe,  Springy  Thoroughbred, 

Hdw  Captain  King  RdcIb  for  the  Pride  of  AiiiErica's  Cavalry, 

Written    for  tlie  Boston  Sunday  Globe,  by 
Captain  Charles  King,  U.  S.  A. 

You  say  that  an  instance  wherein  the  West  Point  preparation  was  shown  to 
fit  a  man  to  ride  successfully  against  experts  of  the  turf  would  be  of  interest. 
That  would  imply  an  atom  of  doubt  on  the  part  of  some  of  your  readers  as  to 
the  justice  of  the  claim  made  by  Mr.  Roosevelt,  and  tacitly  indorsed  bv  myself 
in  previous  articles.  'I'his  is  no  surprise.  1  expected  it  now,  and  encountered 
it  15  years  ago.  A  man  whom  I  had  known  in  New  York,  and  whom  I  next 
met  at  the  beautiful  old  Metairie  racecourse  in  New  Orleans,  came  briskly  for- 
ward one  April  morning  in  '72  and  laugliinglv  said,  ''You  won't  mind,  I  hope  J 
I've  bet  my  money  against  you.  You  may  be  a  good  cavalry  rider,  but  these — 
whv,  thev're  all  experis." 

Now  I  shall  have  to  tell  the  whole  story,  despite  its  being  a  persona!  affair, 
but  if  it  serve  to  illustrate  the  principle  referred  to — well  and  good. 

It  was  just  i^efore  the  spiiig  meeting  of  the  Metairie  Jockey  Club  of  New  Or- 
leans— somewhere  towards  the  end  of  .March.  1S72 — and  a  great  concourse  of 
prominent  horsemen  from  all  over  the  country  was  rapibly  assembling.  It  was 
destined  to  Ije  the  final  meeting  on  the  finest  course  in  the  South,  and  the  di- 
rectors were  eager  to  go  out  in  a  blaze  of  glorv.  The  stables  of  Buford  and 
Swigert  of  Kentucky,  and  of  Sanford  of  New  Jersey,  were  among  the  most 
notable  on  the  ground,  but  every  .Southern  stable  of  any  consequence  was  rep- 
resented. Ex-Ciovernor  Paul  O.  Herbert  was  then  president  of  the  Metairie, 
Generals  Beauregard  and  Westmore  were  among  its  leading  spirits;  Lawrence 
Barrett  sported  its  colors  as  an  honored  guest,  so  did  Manton  Marble  of  the 
New  York  World,  then  spending  a  month  at  the  old  Hotel  St.  Louis;  LeGrand 
B.  Cannon  of  New  York  was  a  daily  visitor  to  look  at  the  'preliminary  canters'; 
Cuthbert  Slocomb  of  New  Orleans  was  an  enthusiastic  member,  and  the  inval- 
uable Billy  Connor  was  then  one  of  the  prominent  track  officers.  It  is  the  sea- 
son of  the  year,  too,  when  tiie  quaint  old  city  is  crowded  with  tourists  from  the 
North  and  this  spring  of  '72  was  the  gayest  that  had  opened  since  the  war. 


RIDING  FOR  GLORY.  2 

Among  the  daily  visitors  at  the  club  were  two  young  foreigners,  Monsieur 
George  Rosenlecher  of  Frawce  and  Count  Victor  Crenneville  of  Austria,  both 
light  cavalry  oflficers  in  their  own  countries ;  both  practiced  riders  in  many  a 
race  at  Longchamps,  Baden  Baden  and  Vienna  ;  both  had  brought  with  them 
their  gorgeous  silken ''casques"  (jockey  shirts  )  and  complete  race  rig;  both 
frequently  exhibited  photographs  taken  in  their  beautiful  jockey  dress,  aud 
both  were  eager  at  the  coming  meeting  to  ride  a  race  against  any  American 
gentleman  who  could  be  induced  to  ''pick  up  the  gauntlet."  P'or  some  time 
there  were  no  takers.  Then  they  offered  to  'allow  seven  pounds'  to  any  gen- 
tlemen who  would  ride  against  them,  i.  e.,  carry  seven  pounds  dead  weight  on 
their  saddles — a  heavy  penalty.  Still  no  takers,  and  then  there  began  to  be 
some  talk. 

Just  then  I  got  back  from  duty  on  wliich  1  had  been  sent  \x\  northern  Missis- 
sippi, and,  reporting  to  (General  Emor\ ,  on  whose  staff  I  was  serving  as  aide- 
de-camp  spent  the  evening  with  Iiim  at  the  St.  Louis  Hotel,  wlierc  all  these 
prominent  Metairie  men  happened  to  be  gathered.  Almost  the  first  thing  said 
to  me  was  by  Governor  Herbert  :  "Wiiy  won't  you  ride  against  these  foreign 
cavalrymen?"  And  in  this  way  I  first  heard  of  the  challenge.  Little  by  little 
the  whole  story  came  out,  and,  turning  to  my  chief — himself  an  enthusiastic  old 
cavalry  officer  and  horseman — I  asked  him  if  he  thought  I'd  do.  His  answer 
was  of  such  a  character  that  the  matter  was  settled  then  and  there.  An  Amer. 
ican  was  found  to  ride  against  the  challengers  from  France  and  Austria,  and 
though  New  Orleans  society  at  that  day  would  doubtless  have  preferred  some- 
body other  than  a  Yankee  officer,  still — that  was  better  than  nobody.  Then,  as 
the  papers  began  to  take  the  matter  U|)  and  interest  increased,  some  English- 
men came  forward  and  said  a  young  countryman  of  theirs  was  in  town,  and  had 
with  him  the  jockey  dress  in  which  he  had  ridden  many  a  gentleman's  race 
abroad.  He  would  gladly  ride  for  the  Koyals.  Then  in  another  day  Ireland 
added  her  champion  in  a  tall,  slender  young  trooper,  a  capital  fellow  he  proved 
to  be,  and  all  of  a  sudden  it  had  become  an  international  affair. 

By  the  terms  of  the  race  it  was  to  be  known  as  the  international  race  for 
gentlemen  riders.  A  dash  of  a  mile  and  So  yards  (  so  that  the  ladies' stand  might 
have  full  benefit  of  both  the  start  and  finish.)  Prize,  the  Metairie  whip — gold 
mounted.  The  club  to  furnish  the  horses  from  the  racers  of  the  stables  pres- 
ent, and  these  were  to  be  assigned  to  riders  according  to  weight.  The  first 
meeting  of  the  five  contestants,  theref(;re,  was  the  day  we  scaled  at  the  club 
office  with  old  Generals  Westmore  (the  Admiral  Rous  of  the  .Metairie)and  Abe 
Buford  of  Kentucky,  to  supervise  the  ceremony.  It  was  then  found  that  I  was 
the  Heaviest  of  the  five  by  seven  pounds,  (weighing  143.)  while  Count  \''ictorwas 
a  diminutive  shadow,  barely  touching  1 12.  I  had  to  train  clown  at  once.  It 
was  arranged  that  we  were  to  have  horses  ready  for  us  at  the  judges'  stand 
every  morning  at  sunrise  for  track  practice,  etc.  My  associates  rode  in  and 
out,  but  I  arose  every  morning  at  3,  and  in  flannels  and  overcoat  tramped,  hard 
as  I  could,  the  seven  miles  from  my  quarters  up  on  Prytania  street  out  to  the 
Metairie  course  at  the  end  of  Canal.  Then,  after  an  hour  of  brisk  work  in  the 
saddle,  tramped  again  back  to  town  ;  took  a  couple  of  chops  and  a  pot  of  tea  at 
Moreau's  ;  then  went  to  the  office  for  a  rub  down  and  the  duties  of  the  day.  In 
one  week  I  had  trained  down  just  seven  pounds,  and  was  in  tip-top  trim.  In 
that  week,  too,  I  had  learned  a  good  deal  about  riding  thoroughbreds,  and  that 


RIDING  FOR  GLORY.  3 

it  was  infinitely  easier,  handier,  prettier  work  than  what  I  had  been  doing  for  a 
couple  of  years  previous — teaching  two  to  five  hours  a  day  all  the  practices  at 
the  West  Point  school  of  liorsemanship,  and  doing  it  on  any  and  every  kind  of 
a  horse  but  a  thoroughbred.  After  that  experience  I  found  riding  these  lithe, 
beautiful,  springy  creatures,  no  matter  how  they  plunged  or  tried  to  "bolt," 
simply  a  delight. 

Of  course  I  had  watched  many  a  year  the  jockey  seat  and  jockey  hand,  and 
knew  that  there  was  reason  for  it  all.  For  an  instant — tiie  first  day  I  mounted 
( under  the  eyes  of  a  crowd  of  club  men  eager  to  watch  the  performance  of  the 
great  horses  gathered  there  for  tiie  races,  and  wildly  curious  to  see  how  the 
•'amateurs"  would  get  along ).  I  remember  tliat  the  first  thing  I  did  was  to 
slip  the  reins  with  my  left  hand^cavalry  fashion — but  while  mv  "trainer"  (the 
owner  of  the  horse,  but  in  no  sense  an  instructor),  was  setting  the  stirrups 
under  the  instep — any  tiling  but  cavalry  fashion — and  giving  numerous  orders 
to  the  stable  boys  hanging  on  to  the  head  of  my  pawing,  impatient  steed.  I  slip- 
ped both  hands  forward  down  along  the  horse's  neck  gave  the  reins  a  couple  of 
"flips"  around  both  wrists  so  as  to  give  plenty  of  friction  against  his  hardest 
pull,  and  told  the  grooms  to  let  go.  In  another  minute  we  were  off — a  jockey 
from  the  same  stable  racing  alongside  on  a  big  chestnut  gelding.  Three  and 
four  years  previous,  on  my  own  beautiful  "Tennessee"  when  with  the  old  light 
battery  with  which  I  served  in  New  Orleans  just  after  the  war,  I  had  been 
allowed  to  speed  over  that  elastic  track,  but  deligiitful  as  that  was  it  was  tame 
work  to  this.  I  seemed  simply  skimming  over  the  g-ound  and  whistling  through 
the  air  at  a  rate  I  had  never  known  before.  It  almost  took  my  breath  away — 
but  it  was  delicious.  Twice — thrice  on  different  horses  we  were  sent  around 
that  morning,  and  I  had  a  mere  bagatelle  of  a  time  in  getting  alonjj  with  a  big 
rangy  specimen,  against  whom  the  trainers  warned  me,  saving  he  was  vicious 
and  a  "bolter" — but  he  ran  like  a  streak. 

Of  course  I  wanted  ;o  know  how  my  riding  had  impressed  the  experts.  There 
was  still  time  to  get  out  of  the  thing  if  my  cavalry  seat  was  goin^  to  make  a  guy 
of  me — so,  after  dismounting,  I  asked  (General  Westmore  for  his  advice.  His 
answer  was  that  lie  was  ready  to  make  his  bets.  Next  tiie  old  trainer  whose 
horses  I  had  been  trying  said,  quietly,  "I  didn't  want  to  allow  the  use  of  my 
horses  for  this  race,  but  if  you'll  ride  one  of  mine  Til  get  first  money." 

Still  I  doubted.  I  found  among  my  Nortliern  acquaintancts  and  among  com- 
rades on  the  staff  (none  of  whom  had  been  at  West  Point  for  many  a  long  \  ear) 
perfect  willingness  to  bet  anything  I  wouldn't  win  that  race.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  turfmen  who  were  regularly  out  at  the  track  at  the  sunrise  gallops, 
and  the  officers  of  the  club  to  whom  I  laughingly  spoke  of  the  matter,  all  ex- 
pressed a  wish  to  meet  these  doubting  friends.  It  would  not  do  to  be  the  cause 
of  putting  them  up  to  losing  their  money,  so  I  deprecated  betting  in  any  way. 

But  even  while  tending  strictly  to  his  own  practice,  it  is  easy  for  a  man  to 
watch  the  style  and  work  of  fellows  who  come  alongside.  Stuart,  the  little 
Englishman,  was  the  first  of  the  five  whom  I  had  a  good  chance  of  seeing,  and 
he  was  a  very  trim,  business-like,  thorough  going  rider.  "A  vast  improvement 
on  Lord  Wxxdhxxs,"  said  Westmore  and  others  on  the  judges'  stand,  who 
were  watching  him  as  he  came  flying  down  the  home  stretch  straight  as  horse 
could  run.  The  young  lord  referred  to  had  been  over  a  year  or  two  before, 
and    had,    so    they   said,    "ridden  all  over  his  horse."     Roschlecher  also  was  a 


RIDING  FOR  GLORY.  4 

pretty  rider,  though  too  high  in  the  stirrups  to  suit  me,  and  more  than  once  I 
thought  that  the  coach  whom  he  had  employed — a  jockey  with  a  beautiful  seat 
and  hand,  but  a  shady  record — was  laughing  in  his  sleeve  at  him.  Crenneville 
I  only  saw  in  saddle  twice  before  the  race,  and  both  times  it  struck  me  he  was 
"too  much  in  the  air."  Hearing  a  Mobile  horseman  commending  the  count's 
style  and  anxious  to  learn  its  special  points  as  viewed  by  him.  I  asked  his 
reasons. 

"Why — he's  so  light?  Never  touches  his  horse's  back.  You  would  think  he 
wasn't  on  him  at  all." 

''Well — if  that  horse  should  suddenly  shv  or  swerve  he  wouldn't  be  on  him,'" 
was  the  answer  that  occurred  to  me  but  I  said  nothing  at  the  moment.  The 
next  morning  his  horse  did  shy  and  the  Austrian  was  thrown  headlong.  These 
three  gentlem  -n  had  their  coaclies  or  trainers  with  them  a  s^reat  deal,  but  after 
the  first  day  I  preferred  to  allow  no  one  to  touch  mv  horse. 

Then  came  the  announcement  of  the  "mounts"-  the  horses  we  were  to  ride 
— and  then  I  made  my  bets.     Botli  of  them  against  myself. 

Of  course,  if  riding  could  do  it.  I  meant  to  win  that  race.  There  was  every 
reason  why  I  should.  Pride  in  the  fact  that  I  was  riding  for  America  ;  pride 
in  the  fact  that  I  was  riding  for  the  cavalry  of  my  country;  pride  in  being  a 
winner,  even.  But  when  I  looked  on  the  horses  and  their  records,  mv  hopes 
went  down.  All  other  things  being  even.  Ross  would  land  Ireland's  green  silk 
an  easy  winner,  with  the  emblazoned  arms  of  the  house  of  Crenneville  a  good 
second.  I  was  willing  to  believe  that  if  the  rest  of  us  were  not  "bunched"  1 
could  come  in  a  fair  third.     The  horses  assigned  us  were  as  follows: 

To  Ireland — Tt-e  lirown  colt  Nathan  Oaks. 

To  Austria — The  chestnut  colt  Tom  Aiken. 

To  the  United  States — The  chestnut  gelding  Templar. 

To  England — The  brown  filly  Rapidita. 

To  France — The  bay  filly  Oleander. 

I  knew  every  one  of  them.  Nathan  Oaks  was  a  glorious  colt — capable  of 
anything.  I  had  watched  him  in  his  practice,  and  iiad  seen  him  win  two  races, 
making  time  that  old  Templar  with  my  weiijht  couldn't  touch,  and  the  very  day 
before  our  race  came  off  he  justified  mv  faith  in  him,  and  sent  my  heart  farther 
down  in  my  boots  by  winning  the  two  mile  heat  under  the  eyes  of  the  people 
who  were  to  watch  his  struggle  for  the  'Tnternationa!"  on  the  morrow. 

The  chestnut  colt  Tom  Aiken  was  another  flyer.  He  had  a  record,  under  90 
pounds,  of  making  his  mile  on  the  Metairie  in  1.43 — about  as  fast  as  it  could  be 
done — and  while  he  certainly  could  not  repeat  that  performance  under  Crenne- 
ville, who  was  to  scale  125  pounds  when  he  came  to  the  post,  he  ought,  even 
with  that  weight  to  brush  close  on  Nathan  Oaks. 

Rapidita  and  Oleander  were  both  fleet  and  pretty  racers,  and  under  normal 
weights  would  have  run  right  away  from  Templar :  lut  we  amateur  jockeys 
could  not  be  made  to  ride  the  weights  of  the  professionals,  who  are  mere  skin, 
sinew,  stunt  and  bone;  and.  all  things  considered,  it  was  as  fair  an  assignment 
as  could  be  made  with  the  means  at  hand. 

But  I  had  aiireed  to  ride  Templar  at  the  request  of  old  Mr.  Harrison,  who 
owned  him,  and  the  Natchez  stable.  He  was  more  of  a  "hurdler"  than  any- 
thing else — had  never  won  a  flat  race  such  as  we  were  to  ride,  was  a  notorious 
bolter,   and   only   a   day   or  two  before  our  race  he  pitched  his  powerful  negro 


RIDING  FOR  GLORY.  J 

jockey  over  his  head  and  dragged  him  all  over  the  field.     I  saw  him. 

But  the  stablemen  and  experts  said  Templar  and  I  "get  along  together  first 
rate."     I  had  taken  a  fancy  to  him,  and  he  was  accorded  to  me. 

Then  came  the  announcement  of  the  weights.  That  meant  that  with  his  sad- 
dle, and  in  full  jockey  dress,  each  rider  must  scale  at  mounting  as  follows  : 

King,  143;  Rosenlecher,  135;  Stuart,  133;  Ross,  130,  and  de  Crenneville. 
128.     To  reach  his  weiglit  the  latter  had  to  carry  a  three  pound  weight. 

And  thus  were  the  long  preliminaries  settled. 


As  I  warned  your  readers  it  is  impossible  to  give  this  experience  without  its 
being  decidedly  personal,  and,  in  reading  over  the  ])reliminaries  to  "The  Inter- 
national Race,"  it  occurrs  to  me  that  had  egotistical  been  used  for  personal  it 
would  have  more  accuratelv  described  tlie  prol)aI)!e  effect.  It  cannot  be  helped. 
Having  been  called  on  to  furnish  illustration  of  a  theory  advanced  in  an  earlv 
paper  of  this  series,  I  could  think  of  none  better  than  a  West  Pointer's  experi- 
ence with  accomplished  riders  of  oilier  schools  in  the  Metairie  race  meeting  of 
1872 — and  I  happened  to  be  the  man. 

We  come  now  to  the  race  itself.  I  had  determined  to  win  it  if  a  possible 
thing,  but  had  bet  that  I  could  not  because  there  were  two  better  horses  than 
mine.  When  the  race  was  first  definitely  arranged,  and  it  was  announced  that 
I  was  to  ride  for  the  United  States,  no  one,  to  my  knowledge,  said  I  would  win, 
and  a  great  many,  as  was  told  in  last  chapter,  said  I  could  not.  However  good 
as  a  cavalry  rider  a  inan  might  be,  he  had  no  chance  on  a  race  course  against 
"these  experts,"  was  the  verdict  of  a  number  of  Northern  acquaintances  and 
army  officers — none  of  whom,  however,  were  young  West  Pointers.  After  the 
week  or  ten  days,  during  which  the  practice  riding  of  tlie  five  contestants  had 
been  closely  watched,  there  seemed  to  be  a  change.  And  when  "IJoc"  Under- 
wood, the  noted  pool-seller,  opened  the  ball  the  night  of  April  8,  it  was  noted 
that  Templar — iny  horse — sold  first  favorite,  a  thing  he  had  never  done  before 
in  a  flat  race — good  a  hurdler  as  he  confessedly  was. 

Even  to  the  minutest  details  of  costume  everything  was  in  readiness  three  or 
four  days  ahead.  The  representatives  of  England,  France  and  Austria  had 
brought  with  them,  of  course,  the  beautiful  silken  jackets  and  caps,  the  immac- 
ulate breeches  and  natty  boots  in  which  they  had  ridden  their  races  abroad- 
Ireland's  gallant  champion  accepted  the  green  silk  of  Hugh  Gaffnev,  one  of 
the  most  accomplished  jockeys  of  the  day.  New  Orleans  boasted  both  tailor 
and  bootmaker  who  were  from  "the  old  country,"  and  knew  just  how  things 
should  be  cut  and  made.  I  could  not  hope  to  rival  the  gorgeousness  of  the 
foreign  colors,  and  so  chose  for  mine  the  light  blue  and  white  of  my  old  college 
— Columbia.  At  last  came  "ladies  day,"  on  which  the  International  was  to  be 
run,  and  it  was  the  loveliest  of  the  meeting. 


RIDING  FOR  GLORY. 


Here  let  me  borrow  somebody  else's  pen  to  tell  of  the    scene    and    the    race. 
Manton    Marble    of  the  New  York  World  was  interested  spectator,  and  on  the 
following  day,  April  lo,  tlie  World  gave  this  account  : 
[From  our  own  correspondent.] 

New  Orleans,  La.,  April  9. 

Under  the  influences  of  improved  weather  and  the  additional  interest  mani- 
fested in  the  international  race  between  amateur  riders,  the  atttndance  at  the 
Metairie  track  was  fully  as  large  todav  as  on  any  previous  day  of  the  meetings. 
The  increased  attendance  was  iiiore  noticealile  in  the  ladies'  stand,  many  of 
whom  were  no  doubt  the  personal  friends  of  the  contestants,  who,  to  show 
their  preferance,  sported  the  colors  of  those  they  were  most  interested  in,  some 
even  going  so  far  as  to  lay  innumerable  wagers  of  kid  gloves  and  other  trifles 
on  those  whom  thev  most  admired.  Ever  since  the  race  was  first  agitated  it 
has  created  consideral)le  interest  in  the  clubs  as  to  the  abilities  of  those  who 
had  entered  as  the  champions  of  their  respective  nationalities,  l-'rance  was 
represented  bv  a  young  Parisian  named  (jeorge  Rosenlechef.  a  member  of  the 
French  Jockey  Club,  svho  was  the  first  to  su^jgest  the  race.  As  soon  as  it  was 
agitated  a  young  Austrian  count  expressed  his  wilhngness  to  ajjpear  and  repre- 
sent his  country.  For  England,  a  voung  and  popular  meinber  of  society  well 
known  on  Carondelet  street,  named  Fdwatd  Stewart,  was  the  next  entry.  For 
the  United  States,  Lieutenant  Charles  King  of  (ienerai  lOmorv's  staff  entered, 
and  for  a  few  days  it  was  thought  the  list  was  complete,  wlien  Ireland  lound  a 
champion  in  James  Ross.  The  matter  was  laid  before  the  Metairie  Jockey 
Club,  who,  with  their  accustomed  lilierality,  at  once  appointed  a  committee  to 
take  charge  of  the  whole  matter.  An  elegant  prize  in  the  shape  of  a  gold- 
mounted  whip  was  purchased  of(jriswoid.  The  stakeownt-rs  were  also  con- 
sulted, and  several  excellent  iiorses  were  placed  at  the  service  of  the  five  gen- 
tlemen contestants. 

THE  ENTRIES. 

The  horses  selected  and  the  colors  worn  bv  their  riders  were  as  follows  : 

Count  V.  de  Crennevill  (  Austria  )  on  the  chestnut  colt  lom  Aiken;  jacket 
white,  red  sleeves,  red  cap. 

M.  George  Rosenlecher  (France  )  on  the  bav  filly  Oleander:  jacket  blue  with 
gold  stripes,  blue  cap. 

Lieutenant  Charles  King  (  United  States)  on  the  chestnut  gelding  Templar  ; 
jacket  blue,  white  cap. 

Edward  Stuart  (England)  on  the  broun  filly  Rapidita;  jacket  cerise,  blue 
sleeves,  blue  cap. 

Tames  Ross  (Ireland)  on  the  brown  colt  Nathan  Oaks:  jacket  green,  white  rap. 

The  race  was  second  on  the  cards  and  Lieutenant  King  on  Templar  was  tiie 
favorite  against  the  field  at  lar<ie  odds.  As  the  distance  was  a  mile  and  80 
yards,  the  start  was  effected  a  trifle  above  the  upper  end  of  the  stand,  which 
gave  its  occupants  a  good  chance  to  see  the  respective  stvles  of  riding  exhibited 
by  each  of  the  contestants.  As  they  swept  past  the  stand  they  were  received 
with  loud  applause,  which  was  again  renewed  when  Lieutenant  King  was  seen 
to  have  a  clear  lead  on  the  old  chestnut  gelding  Templar.  Going  up  the  back 
stretch  all  took  a  pull  on  their  respective  horses,  and  as  they  swung  into  the 
home  stretch  the  race  re::illv  became  an  exciting  one,  especiallv  when  Ross  sent 
Ireland's  green  jacket  up  almost  alongside  of  King,  who  was  riding  in  splendid 
style.  As  they  passed  the  end  of  the  stand  Count  de  Crenneville  tduched  Tom 
Aiken  lightly  with  the  spur,  and  the  chestnut  responded  gamely  ;  the  distance 
was  too  short,  however.  Lieutenant  King  winning  the  race  in  fine  style  by  a 
length  and  a  half.  James  Ross  being  second — a  short  neck  in  front  of  the 
count  ;  Edward  Stuart,  England's  rejiresentative,  was  fourth  ;  and  the  origi- 
nator of  the  race,  the  representative  of  France,  last.     Time,  1.56. 

On  Lieutenant  King  returning  to  weigh,  he  was  loudly  applauded  by  nearly 
all  present.  There  was,  however,  a  shade  of  disappointment  visible  among 
some  of  the  ladies,  who  had  evidently  gone  it  heavy  on  the  count  and  Mr.  Ross, 


RIDING  FOR  GLORY.  7 

both  of  whom  are  deservedly  popular  with  the  jeunnesse  doree  of  New  Orleans 
society. 

Barring  inaccuracies  as  to  preliminaries  that  is  a  good  account  of  the  affair, 
but  before  explaining  how  it  was  won  despite  my  belief  it  could  not  be  won, 
some  points  may  interest  your  readers. 

The  ladies'  stand  was  crowded  that  day  as  I  had  never  seen  it  before,  and 
the  colors  of  Rosenlecher  and  De  Crenneville  especially,  and  Stuart  and  Ross 
largely,  were  to  be  seen  everywhere.  Just  two  young  ladies  had  the  courage 
to  wear  the  white  and  light  blue  of  the  Yankee. 

Lieutenant  King  may  have  been  the  favorite  against  the  field  where  the 
World's  representative  stood  among  a  knot  of  club  men  and  turf  patrons — but 
he  was  not  everywhere.  A  brother  aide-de-camp  who  had  only  once  before 
seen  him  in  saddle  came  out  on  the  track  just  as  we  "amateurs"  issued  from 
the  weighing  room  with  our  racing  saddles,  and  went  with  us  mto  the  paddock 
where  the  impatient  horses  were  being  led  about. 

I  believe  I  was  the  first  to  mount  and  move  out  on  the  track,  when  he  looked 
up  as  he  was  hurrying  back  to  his  place  on  the  grand  stand.  "Bet  you  $50 
you  can't  win  it,"  and  he  noded  his  head  toward  Nathan  Oaks,  Ross'  beautiful 
mount,  whom  we  had  seen  winning  the  two-mile  dashes  on  the  previous  day, 
and  as  that  was  the  horse  1  most  feared  the  bet  would  have  been  badly  placed 
could  I  have  taken  it. 

All  the  same,  having  watched  the  men  and  tlie  horses  for  a  week  previous,  I 
believed  there  was  a  point  in  which  West  Point  practice  and  training  would 
give  me  the  advantage.  There  the  cadet  had  to  learn,  on  any  kind  of  a  horse, 
to  control  and  guide  him — to  make  him  obey  the  will  of  the  rider. 

Now  in  most  races  on  American  soil  when  the  horses  come  to  the  post  it  is 
no  uncommon  sight  to  see  trainers  and  hostlers  hinging  on  to  their  heads,  the 
jockey  meantime  sitting  like  a  circus  monkey  with  no  volition  in  the  matter. 
And  I  knew  that  in  their  desire  to  have  a  fair  start  and  an  effective  one  the 
stewards  and  trainers  would  all  be  there  su]>erintending,  and  I  had  heard  that 
each  of  my  four  rivals  was  to  be  led  to  the  starting  point  and  let  loose  at  tap  of 
the  drum.  I  had  seen  it  tried  time  and  again  on  the  old  Metairie  and  never 
without  several  false  starts,  in  which  one  or  more  of  the  racers  would  tear  away 
several  hundred  yards  before  he  could  be  brought  back,  involving  vast  fretting, 
sweating  and  nervousness  for  the  horse  and  fatigue  and  exasperation  to  the 
rider.  There  was  a  great  deal  of  excitement  at  the  starting  point — crowds  on 
both  sides  of  the  track — and  I  could  see  that  the  grand  stand  had  risen  en 
masse  to  watch  the  scene.  Presently  we  were  marshaled  in  line  some  20  yards 
beyond  the  starter's  fla? — the  80-yard  point.  There  stood  Billy  Connor,  drum 
in  hand,  with  the  flagman  back  of  him.  He  was  shouting  injunctions  and 
orders  to  the  different  trainers  and  they  in  reply  were  striving  to  hold  in  check 
these  eager  and  mettlesome  racers.  Crenneville,  on  Tom  Aiken,  had  the  right, 
and  that  enterprising  colt  was  tugging  and  pulling  and  dragging  the  trainers 
all  over  the  track.  Ross,  on  Nathan  Oaks,  was  enjoying  a  similar  experience 
over  at  the  left.  Rapidita  and  Oleander  were  revolving  about  their  trainers 
and  pointing  their  tails  to  every  quarter  of  the  globe  with  astonishing  rapidity- 
Templar  and  I  had  the  centre,  and  though  he  was  pawing  and  plunging  and 
standing  on  his  hind  legs,  he  was  held  facing  the  front  and  held  firm,  but  of 
all  the  five  he  had  no  stablesmen  at  his  head. 


RIDING  FOR  GLORY.  8 

Twice  had  his  owner  come  forward  and  essayed  to  seize  him,  and  twice  had 
he  been  ordered  away.  "I'm  riding  this  horse  today,  Mr.  Harrison,  and  no 
man  must  touch  him." 

"But,  my  Gawd,  suh  !  Can  you  hold  him?"  he  answered  with  infinite  concern 
on  his  wet  face — then  scurried  back  out  of  the  way. 

Twice,  thrice,  came  the  words  "Let 'em  go!"  and  the  jockey  instincts  of 
each  stableman  would  prompt  him  to  send  his  horse  away  ahead  of  the  others. 
There  would  be  a  wild  scramble  of  hoofs.  Some  one  colt  or  filly  would  flash 
across  the  line  a  dozen  yards  ahead.  Clang  !  clang  !  clang  would  go  Connor's 
bell,  calling  them  back.  There  would  be  a  vision  of  three  or  four  brilliant 
jackets  shooting  far  away  down  the  track.  Ten  minutes  impatient  waiting — 
two.  three — sometimes  more  horses  cominji  cantering;  back — puffing  and  dis- 
gusted. Five — six  similar  false  starts  were  made.  Five,  six  times  they  were 
slowly  and  with  difficulty  gathered  back.  Four  horses  and  four  riders  were 
getting  "blown"  but  Templar  and  I  had  never  once  crossed  the  line. 

Of  course  he  had  plunged,  reared,  tu<iged  at  the  bit ;  launched  out  with  his 
heels  and  tried  Everything  he  could  think  of  to  get  awav,  but  it  was  all  useless. 
When  at  last  the  drum  tapped  anrl  we  five  shot  awav  in  a  bunch  under  the 
roar  that  arose  from  the  crowded  stands,  I  was  never  cooler  in  my  life — nor 
more  hopeful. 

Thus  far  all  had  worked  as  I  believed  it  would.  Now  I  had  a  plan  for  the 
rest  of  it.  Templar  hadn't  great  speed  but  he  was  fresh,  ea'^er  and  all  iiis 
powers  were  in  reserve.  As  we  began  to  round  the  first  turn,  Stuart  was  a  tri- 
fle to  my  left  front  urging  his  sweating  fillv  :  his  eyes  blazing  and  his  face  wet 
from  every  pore.  I  could  hear  Oleander  a  little  behind  my  risrht  shoulder  and 
knew  I  had  them  both  beaten.  As  we  swept  around  to  the  back  stretch,  they 
had  fallen  behind  and  I  had  a  clean  lead  of  a  lengtli.  Then,  directly  across 
the  field  from  the  grand  stand  where  it  would  make  a  most  effective  coup,  I 
could  hear  tlie  Austrian  urt^^ini;  Tom  Aiken.  Presently  up  he  came  alongside, 
and  I  could  feel  Templar  thrilling  and  be.<;innin<j  to  tug.  but  I  ke])t  the  same 
pressure  on  tlie  rein,  never  allowinti  him  an  ounce,  and  he  could  not  stride 
away  in  a  useless  race.  Then,  uri;in<i:  and  spurring,  I)e  Crennevill'^  passed  us, 
and  at  the  third  turn  was  two  good  lengths  ahead,  Iiut  Ross — the  man  I  dread- 
ed— was  still  to  mv  rig;ht  quarter,  and  we  could  wait.  Templar  and  I.  Now  we 
were  shooting  around  tiie  turn  towards  the  three-quarter  mile  post.  "Aiken" 
was  beginning  to  flaijf,  and  we  were  overlKuilin<^  him.  Desperately  the  Austri- 
an began  to  spur  and,  in  his  eagerness  to  save  space,  steered  too  close  to  the 
rail.  Another  instant  and  it  caught  his  boot,  hurled  his  left  leg  back  before  he 
could  recover,  and  awav  went  his  penaltv  paid.  Even  could  he  keep  his  lead 
now  he  had  lost  the  prize,  but  he  had  over-ridden  his  horse  ,  and  now,  as  we 
came  into  the  stretch  and  full  in  siijht  of  home,  now  for  the  first  time  I  gave 
Templar  one  touch  of  the  spur  and  an  inch  of  rein.  In  20  seconds  the  Austri- 
an was  behind  us  and  the  goal  i>efore,  and  aiming  straight  for  the  white  jwst 
far  down  the  track  we  slid  under  that  string  easy  winners,  despite  whipping  and 
spurring  of  all  the  others,  and  Templar  was  fresh  as  a  daisy  and  wild  to  go 
round  again. 

Then  the  task  was  to  stop  him.  He  ran  almost  to  the  quarter  post  before 
we  turned,  and,  overtaking  Ross,  trolled  back  with  him  to  weigh. 

"I  did  not  know  they  taught  jockey  riding  at  West  Point,"  said  an    Austrian 


RIDING  FOR  GLORY. 


consulate  officer  to  me  that  night. 

"They  do  not"  was  the  answer  ;  "but  with  what  they  do  teach,  a    man    ought 
to  be  a  fair  all-round  rider." 

And  that,  practically,  is  what  Theodore  Roosevelt  said  15  years  after. 


Two  soldiers.' 


[Page3f)9.] 


Two  Soldiers. 


BY 

CHARLES    KING, 

U.  S.  ARMY, 

AUTHOR   OF    "  DUNRAVEN"    RANCH,"    "THE   COLONEL'S    DAUGHTER,"    "FROM 
THE   RANKS,"    "THE   DESERTER,"    ETC. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY. 


Copyright,  1890,  by  J.  B.  Lippincott  Company. 


Printed  by  J.  B.  Lippincott  Company,  Philadelphia,  U.S.A. 


LIPPINCOTT'S 
Ji^ONTHLY   ]y[AGAZINE, 


MARCH,    1890. 


TWO   SOLDIERS. 


THE  rain  was  plashing  dismally  on  the  grimy  window-sill  and  over 
the  awning  of  the  shops  below.  The  street-ears  went  jingling  by 
with  a  dripping  load  of  outside  passengers  on  both  platforms.  Wagons 
and  drays,  cabs  and  closed  carriages,  tiiat  rattled  or  rumbled  along 
the  ordinarily  busy  thoroughfare,  looked  as  though  they  had  been 
dipped  in  the  river  before  being  turned  loose  on  the  street,  and  their 
Jehus,  a  bedraggled  lot,  must  needs  have  had  something  amphibious 
in  their  composition,  else  they  could  not  have  borne  up  against  the 
deluge  that  had  been  soaking  the  city  for  two  days  past.  The  police- 
man, waddling  aimlessly  about  at  the  opposite  corner,  enveloped  in 
rubber  cap  and  ovei'coat,  cast  occasional  wistful  glances  into  the  bar-room 
across  the  way,  wherein  the  gas  was  burning  in  deference  to  the  general 
gloom  that  overhung  the  neighborhood,  and  such  pedestrians  as  had  to 
be  abroad  hurried  along  under  their  umbrellas  as  though  they  half 
expected  to  have  to  swim  before  they  could  reach  their  destination. 
The  dense  cloud  of  sooty  smoke  that  had  overhung  the  metropolis  for 
weeks  past,  and  that  wind  from  any  direction  could  never  entirely  dis- 
sipate, for  the  simple  reason  that  smoke-stacks  by  the  score  shot  up  in 
the  outskirts  on  every  side,  now  seemed  to  be  hurled  upon  the  roofs 
and  walls,  the  windows  and  the  pavement,  in  a  black,  pasty,  carbo- 
niferous deposit,  and  every  object  out  of  doors  that  one  could  touch 
would  leave  its  inky  response  upon  the  hand.  A  more  depressing 
"  spell  of  weather"  had  not  been  known  for  a  year,  and  every  living 
being  in  sight  seemed  saturated  with  the  general  gloom, — every  living 
being  except  one :  Captain  Fred  Lane,  of  the  Eleventh  Cavalry,  was 
sitting  at  the  dingy  window  of  his  office  in  the  recruiting  rendezvous 
on  Sycamore  Street  and  actually  whistling  softly  to  himself  in  supreme 
contentment. 

295 


296  "^WO  SOLDIERS. 

Two  missives  had  reached  him  that  ghastly  morning  that  had  served 
to  make  him  impervious  to  wind  or  weather.  One — large,  formal,  im- 
pressive, and  bearing  the  stamp  of  the  War  Department  in  heavy  type 
across  its  upper  corner — had  borne  to  him  the  notification  of  his  pro- 
motion to  the  rank  of  Captain  (Troop  D)  Eleventh  Cavalry,  nice 
Curran,  retired.  The  other — a  tiny  billet — had  given  him  even  greater 
happiness.  It  might  be  hard  to  say  how  many  times  he  had  read  and 
re-read  it  since  he  found  it  on  the  snowy  cloth  of  his  particular  break- 
fast-table in  his  particular  corner  of  the  snug  refectory  of  "  The  Queen 
City,"  on  the  books  of  which  most  respectable  if  somewhat  venerable 
club  his  name  had  been  borne  among  the  list  of  Army  or  Navy  Mem- 
bers ever  since  his  "  graduation-leave,"  fifteen  years  before. 

All  his  boyhood,  up  to  the  time  of  his  winning  his  cadetship  at 
West  Point,  had  been  spent  in  the  city  where  for  the  past  sixteen 
months  he  had  considered  himself  fortunate  in  being  stationed  on  re- 
cruiting-service. During  the  second  year  of  his  term  at  the  Academy 
he  was  startled  by  the  receipt  of  a  sad  letter  from  his  mother,  telling 
him  briefly  that  his  father,  long  one  of  the  best-known  among  the 
business-men  of  the  city,  had  been  compelled  to  make  an  assignment. 
What  was  worse,  he  had  utterly  broken  down  under  the  strain,  and  would 
probably  never  be  himself  again.  Proud,  sensitive,  and  honorable,  Mr. 
Lane  had  insisted  on  paying  to  the  uttermost  farthing  of  his  means. 
Even  the  old  homestead  went,  and  the  broken-hearted  man  retired  with 
his  faithful  wife  to  a  humble  roof  in  the  suburbs.  There,  a  few  months 
afterwards,  he  breathed  his  last,  and  there,  during  Fred's  graduating 
year,  she  followed  him.  When  the  bay  entered  on  his  career  in  the 
army  he  was  practically  alone  in  the  world.  Out  of  the  wreck  of  his 
father's  fortune  there  came  to  him  a  little  sum  that  started  him  in  the 
service  free  from  debt  and  that  served  as  a  nest-egg  to  attract  future 
accumulations.  This  he  had  promptly  banked  until  some  good  and 
safe  investment  should  present  itself,  and,  once  with  his  regiment  on 
the  frontier,  Mr.  Lane  had  found  his  pay  ample  for  all  his  needs. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  recount  the  history  of  his  fifteen  years'  service 
as  a  subaltern.  Suffice  it  to  say  that,  steering  clear  of  most  of  the 
temptations  to  which  young  officers  were  subjected,  he  had  won  a  repu- 
tation as  a  capital  "  duty-officer,"  that  was  accented  here  and  there  by 
some  brilliant  and  dashing  exploits  in  the  numerous  Indian  cam- 
paigns through  which  the  Eleventh  had  passed  with  no  small  credit. 
Lane  was  never  one  of  the  jovial  souls  of  the  regiment.  His  mood 
was  rather  taciturn  and  contemplative.  He  read  a  good  deal,  and  spent 
many  days  in  the  saddle  exploring  the  country  in  the  neighborhood  of 
his  post  and  in  hunting  and  fishing. 

But,  from  the  colonel  down,  there  was  not  a  man  in  the  Eleventh 
who  did  not  thoroughly  respect  and  like  him.  Among  the  ladies,  how- 
ever, there  were  one  or  two  who  never  lost  an  opportunity  of  giving  the 
lieutenant  a  feline  and  not  ineffective  clawing  when  his  name  came  up 
for  discussion  in  the  feminine  conclaves  occasionally  held  in  the  regi- 
ment. Sometimes,  too,  when  opportunity  served,  he  was  made  the  victim 
of  some  sharp  or  sarcastic  speech  that  was  not  always  easy  to  bear  in 
silence.     Mrs.  Judson,  wife  of  the  captain  of  B  Troop,  was  reputed  to 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  297 

be  "down  on  Lane,"  and  the  men  had  no  difficulty  whatever  in  locating 
the  time  when  her  change  of  heart  took  place. 

The  truth  of  the  matter  was  that,  thanks  to  simple  habits  and 
to  his  sense  of  economy,  Lane  had  quite  a  snug  little  balance  in  the 
bunk,  and  the  ladies  of  the  regiment  believed  it  to  be  bigger  than  it 
really  was ;  and,  having  approved  the  furnishing  and  fitting  up  of  his 
quarters,  the  next  thing,  of  course,  that  they  essayed  to  do  was  to 
provide  him  with  a  wife.  There  the  trouble  began.  Simultaneously 
with  the  arrival  of  his  first  bar  as  a  first  lieutenant  there  came 
from  the  distant  East  Mrs.  Judson's  younger  sister  "  Emmy"  and 
Mrs.  Loring's  pretty  niece  Pansy  Fletcher.  Lane  was  prompt  to 
call  on  both,  to  take  the  young  ladies  driving  or  riding,  to  be  attentive 
and  courteous  in  every  way ;  but,  while  he  did  thus  "  perceive  a  divided 
duty,"  what  was  Mrs.  Loriug's  horror  on  discovering  that  pretty 
Pansy  had  fallen  rajiturously  in  love  with  "  Jerry"  Lattimore,  as 
handsome,  reckless,  and  impecunious  a  young  dragoon  as  ever  lived, 
and  nothing  but  prompt  measures  prevented  their  marriage !  Miss 
Fletcher  was  suddenly  re-transported  to  the  East,  whither  Jerry  was 
too  hard  up  to  follow ;  and  then,  in  bitterness  of  iieart,  INIrs.  Loring 
blamed  poor  Fred  for  the  whole  transaction.  "  Why  had  he  held 
aloof  and  allowed  that — tliat  scamp — that  ne'er-do-weel — to  cut  in  and 
win  that  innocent  child's  heart,  as  he  certainly  did  do?"  Against 
Lattimore  the  vials  of  her  wrath  were  emptied  coram  publico,  but 
against  Lane  she  could  not  talk  so  openly. 

Mrs.  Judson  had  beheld  the  sudden  de])arture  of  Miss  Pansy  with 
an  equanimity  she  could  barely  disguise.  Indeed,  there  were  not  lack- 
ing good  Christians  in  the  garrison  who  pointed  significantly  to  the 
fact  that  she  had  almost  too  hospitably  opened  her  doors  to  Miss 
Fletcher  and  her  lover  during  that  brief  but  volcanic  romance.  Certain 
it  is,  however,  that  it  was  in  her  house  and  in  a  certain  little  nook  off 
the  sitting-room  that  their  long,  delicious  meetings  occurred  almost 
daily,  the  lady  of  the  house  being  busy  about  the  dining-room,  the 
kitchen,  or  the  chambers  overhead,  and  Emmy,  who  was  a  good  girl, 
but  densely  uninteresting,  strumming  on  the  piano  or  yawning  over  a 
book  at  the  front  window. 

"  What  Mr.  Lane  needs  is  a  gentle,  modest,  domestic  little  woman 
who  will  make  his  home  a  restful,  peaceful  refuge  always,"  said  Mrs. 
Judson  ;  and,  infereutially,  Emmy  was  the  gentle  and  modest  creature 
who  was  destined  so  to  bless  him.  The  invitations  to  tea,  the  lures  by 
which  he  was  induced  to  become  Emmy's  escort  to  all  the  hops  and 
dances,  redoubled  themselves  after  Miss  Fletcher's  departure ;  but  it 
was  all  in  vain.  Without  feeling  any  particular  affinity  for  Mr. 
Lane,  Emmy  stood  ready  to  say  "  Yes"  whensoever  he  should  ask  ; 
but  weeks  went  on,  he  never  seemed  to  draw  nearer  the  subject, 
and  just  as  Mrs.  Judson  had  determined  to  resort  to  heroic  measures 
and  point  out  that  his  attentions  to  Emmy  had  excited  the  remark 
of  the  entire  garrison,  and  that  the  poor  child  herself  was  looking  wan 
and  strange,  there  was  a  stage-robbery  not  twenty  miles  from  the 
post.  Lane,  with  fifteen  troopers,  was  sent  in  pursuit  of  the  des- 
peradoes, and  captured  them,  after  a  sharp  fight,  ninety  miles  up  the 


298  ^WO  SOLDIERS. 

river  and  near  the  little  infantry  cantonment  at  the  Indian  reserva- 
tion ;  and  thither  the  lieutenant  was  carried  with  a  bullet  through 
his  thigh.  By  the  time  he  was  well  enough  to  ride,  the  regiment  was 
again  in  the  field  on  Indian  campaign,  and  for  six  months  he  never  saw 
Fort  Curtis  again.  When  he  did,  Emmy  had  gone  home,  and  Mrs. 
Judson's  politeness  was  something  awful. 

Lane  was  out  with  the  Eleventh  again  in  three  more  sharp  and 
severe  campaigns,  received  an  ugly  bullet-wound  through  the  left  shoul- 
der in  the  memorable  chase  after  Chief  Joseph,  was  quartermaster 
of  his  regiment  a  year  after  that  episode,  then  adjutant,  and  finally  was 
given  the  recruiting-detail  as  he  neared  the  top  of  the  list  of  first  lieu- 
tenants, and,  for  the  first  time  in  fifteen  years,  found  himself  once 
more  among  the  friends  of  his  youth, — and  still  a  bachelor. 

Securing  pleasant  quarters  in  the  adjoining  street,  Mr.  Lane  speedily 
made  himself  known  at  the  club  to  which  he  ha(*  been  paying  his  mod- 
erate annual  dues  without  having  seen  anything  of  it  but  its  bills  for 
years  past,  yet  never  knowing  just  when  he  might  want  to  drop  in. 
Then  he  proceeded,  after  office  hours,  to  hunt  up  old  chums,  and 
in  the  course  of  the  first  week  after  his  arrival  he  had  found  almost 
all  of  them.  Bailey,  who  sat  next  him  in  school,  was  now  a  promi- 
nent and  prosperous  lawyer.  Terry,  who  sat  just  behind  him  and 
occasionally  inserted  crooked  pins  in  a  convenient  crack  in  his  chair, 
was  thriving  in  the  iron  business.  Warden  had  made  a  fortune  "on 
'Change,"  and  was  one  of  the  leading  brokers  and  commission-mer- 
chants of  the  metropolis.  He  had  always  liked  Warden :  they  lived 
close  together,  and  used  to  walk  to  and  from  school  with  each  other 
almost  every  day.  Mr.  Lane  had  started  on  his  quest  with  a  feeling 
akin  to  enthusiasm.  Calm  and  reticent  and  retiring  as  he  generally 
was,  he  felt  a  glow  of  delight  at  the  prospect  of  once  more  meeting 
"  the  old  crowd ;"  but  that  evening  he  returned  to  his  rooms  with  a 
distinct  sense  of  disappointment.  Bailey  had  jumped  up  and  shaken 
hands  with  much  effusion  of  manner,  and  had  "  my-dear-fellovv"-ed  him 
for  a  minute  or  two,  and  then,  "  Now,  where  are  you  stopping  ?  I'll 
be  round  to  look  you  up  the  very  first  evening  I  can  get  away,  and 
— of  course  we'll  have  you  at  the  house ;"  but  Lane  clearly  saw  he 
was  eager  to  get  back  to  his  desk,  and  so  took  his  leave.  Terry  did 
not  know  him  at  all  until  he  began  to  laugh,  and  then  he  blandly  in- 
quired what  he'd  been  doing  with  himself  all  these  years.  But  the 
man  who  rasped  him  from  top  to  toe  was  Warden.  Business  hours 
were  over,  and  their  meeting  occurred  at  the  club.  Two  minutes  after 
they  had  shaken  hands.  Warden  was  standing  with  his  back  to  the 
log  fire,  his  thumbs  in  the  arm-holes  of  his  waistcoat,  tilting  on  his 
toes,  his  head  well  back,  and  most  affably  and  distinctly  patronizing 
him.' 

"  Well,  Fred,  you're  still  in  the  army,  are  you  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Still  in  the  army,  Warden." 

"  Well,  what  on  earth  do  you  find  to  do  with  yourself  out  there  ? 
How  do  you  manage  to  kill  time  ?" 

"  Time  never  hung  heavily  on  my  hands.  It  often  happened  that 
there  wasn't  half  enough  for  all  we  had  to  do." 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  299 

"You  don't  tell  me!  Why,  I  supposed  that  about  all  you  did  was 
to  drink  and  play  poker." 

"  Not  an  unusual,  idea,  I  find,  Warden,  but  a  very  unjust  one." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know,  of  course,  you  have  some  Indian-fighting  to  do 
once  in  a  while ;  but  that  probably  amounts  to  very  little.  I  mean 
when  you're  in  permanent  camp  or  garrison.  I  should  think  a  man  of 
your  temperament  would  just  stagnate  in  such  a  life.  I  wonder  you 
hadn't  resigned  years  ago  and  come  here  and  made  a  name  for  your- 
self." 

"  The  life  has  been  rather  more  brisk  than  you  imagine,"  he  an- 
swered, with  a  quiet  smile,  "  and  I  have  grown  very  fond  of  my  pro- 
fession. But  you  speak  of  making  a  name  for  myself.  Now,  in  what 
would  that  have  consistetl  ?" 

"Oh,  well,  of  course,  if  you  really  like  the  army  and  living  in  a 
desert  and  that  sort  of  thing,  I've  nothing  to  say,"  said  Warden  ;  "  but 
it  always  struck  me  as  such  a — such  a — well,  Fred,  such  a  wasted  life, 
all  very  well  for  fcHows  who  hadn't  brains  or  energy  enough  to  achieve 
success  in  the  real  battle  of  life"  (and  here  Warden  was  "  swelling  visi- 
bly"), "  but  not  at  all  the  thing  for  a  man  of  your  ability.  We  all 
conceded  at  school  that  you  were  head  and  shoulders  above  the  rest  of 
us.  We  were  talking  of  it  some  years  ago  here  in  this  very  room : 
there'd  been  something  about  you  in  the  papers, — some  general  or  other 
had  mentioned  you  in  a  report.  Let's  see :  didn't  you  get  wounded, 
or  something,  chasing  some  Indians?"  Lane  replied  that  he  believed 
that  "  something  like  tiiat  had  happened,"  but  begged  his  friend  to  go 
on;  and  Warden  j)roceeded  to  further  expound  his  views: 

"  Now,  you  might  have  resigned  years  ago,  taken  hold  of  your 
father's  old  business,  and  made  a  fortune.  There's  been  a  perfect  boom 
in  railroad  iron  and  every  other  kind  of  iron  since  that  panic  of  '73. 
Look  at  Terry  :  he  is  rolling  in  money, — one  of  our  most  substantial 
men  ;  and  you  know  he  was  a  mere  drone  at  school.  Why,  Fred, 
if  your  father  could  have  held  on  six  months  longer  he'd  have  been 
the  richest  man  in  town  to-day.  It  always  seemed  to  me  that  he  made 
such  a  mistake  in  not  getting  his  friends  to  help  hitn  tide  things  over." 

"  You  probably  are  not  aware,"  was  the  reply,  "  that  he  went  to 
friend  after  friend, — so  called, — and  that  it  was  their  failure  or  refusal 
to  help  that  broke  him  down.  The  most  active  man  in  pushing  him 
to  the  wall,  I  am  told,  was  Terry's  father,  who  had  formerly  been  his 
chief  clerk." 

"  Well,"  answered  Warden,  in  some  little  confusion,  for  this  and 
other  matters  in  connection  with  the  failure  of  Samuel  Lane  &  Co., 
years  before,  were  now  suddenly  recalled  to  mind,  "  that's  probably  true. 
Business  is  business,  you  know,  and  those  were  tough  times  in  the 
money  market.  Still,  you  could  have  come  back  here  when  you  left 
West  Point,  and  built  up  that  concern  again,  and  been  a  big  man 
to-day, — had  your  own  establishment  here,  married  some  rich  girl — 
you're  not  married,  are  you  ?" 

Lane  shook  his  head. 

"  On  the  other  hand,  then,  you've  been  fooling  away  all  this  time  in 
the  army,  and  what  have  you  got  to  show  for  it  ?" 


300  TWO  SOLDIERS. 

"Nothing — to  speak  of,"  was  the  half-whimsical,  half-serious 
answer. 

"  Well,  there  !  Now  don't  you  see?  That's  just  what  I'm  driving 
at.  You've  thrown  away  your  opportunities. — All  right,  Strong  :  I'll 
be  with  you  in  a  minute,"  he  called  to  a  man  who  was  signalling  to  him 
from  the  stairway.  "  Come  in  and  see  us,  Fred.  Come  and  dine  with 
us, — any  day.  We're  always  ready  for  friends  who  drop  in.  I  want 
you  to  meet  Mrs.  Warden  and  see  my  house.  Now  excuse  me,  will  you  ? 
I  have  to  take  a  hand  at  whist,"  And  so  away  went  Warden,  leaving 
Lane  to  walk  homeward  and  think  over  the  experiences  of  the  day. 

He  had  "  made  a  name  for  himself"  that  was  well  known  from  the 
Yellowstone  to  the  Colorado.  Thrice  had  that  name  been  sent  to  the 
President  with  the  recommendation  of  his  department  commander  for 
brevets  for  conspicuous  and  gallant  conduct  in  action  against  hostile 
Indians.  The  Pacific  coast  had  made  him  welcome.  Busy  San  Fran- 
cisco had  found  time  to  read  the  Altars  and  the  Chroniclers  correspond- 
ence from  the  scene  of  hostilities,  and  cordially  shook  hands  with  the 
young  officer  who  had  been  so  prominent  in  more  than  one  campaign. 
Santa  F^  and  San  Antonio,  Denver,  Cheyenne,  and  Miles  City,  were 
])oints  where  he  could  not  go  without  meeting  "  troops  of  friends."  It 
was  only  when  he  got  back  to  his  old  home  in  the  East  that  the  lieu- 
tenant found  his  name  associated  only  with  his  father's  failure,  and  that 
his  years  of  honorable  service  conveyed  no  interest  to  the  friends  of  his 
youth.  "  Money  makes  the  mare  go,"  said  Mr.  Warden,  in  a  subsequent 
conversation  ;  and  money,  it  seems,  was  what  he  meant  in  telling  Lane 
he  should  have  come  home  and  "  made  a  name  for  himself." 

Lane  had  been  on  duty  a  year  in  the  city  when  a  rumor  began 
to  circulate,  to  the  effect  that  investments  of  his  in  mining  stocks 
had  brought  him  large  returns,  and  men  at  the  club  and  matronly 
women  at  the  few  parties  he  attended  began  asking  significant  questions 
which  now  it  pleased  him  to  parry  rather  than  answer  directly.  His 
twelve  months'  experiences  in  society  had  developed  in  him  a  somewhat 
sardonic  vein  of  humor  and  made  him,  if  anything,  more  reticent  than 
before.  And  then — then  all  of  a  sudden  there  came  over  the  spirit  of 
his  dream  a  marked  and  wondrous  change.  He  no  longer  declined  in- 
vitations to  balls,  parties,  or  dinners  when  he  knew  that  certain  persons 
were  to  be  jiresent.  Mabel  Vincent  had  just  returned  from  a  year's  tour 
abroad,  and  Lieutenant  Fred  Lane  had  fallen  in  love  at  first  sight. 

It  was  a  note  from  her  that  made  even  that  dingy  old  office,  on 
this  most  dismal  of  days,  fairly  glow  and  shine  with  a  radiance  of 
hope,  with  a  halo  of  joy  and  gladness  such  as  his  lonely  life  had  never 
known  before.  The  very  first  time  he  ever  saw  himself  addressed  as 
Captain  Fred  Lane,  Eleventh  Cavalry,  was  in  her  dainty  hand.  He 
turned  his  chair  to  the  window  to  read  once  again  the  precious  words; 
but  there  entered,  dripping,  a  Western  Union  messenger  with  a  telegram. 

Tearing  it  open.  Lane  read  these  words  :  "  All  join  in  congratula- 
tions on  your  promotion  and  in  wonderment  at  the  colonel's  selection 
of  your  successor.     Noel  is  named." 

Lane  gave  a  long  whistle  of  amazement.  "Of  all  men  in  the  regi- 
ment !"  he  exclaimed.     "  Who  would  have  thought  of  Gordon  Noel  ?" 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  301 

II. 

The  colonel  of  the  Eleventh  Cavalry  was  a  gentleman  who  had 
some  peculiarities  of  temperament  and  disposition.  This  fact  is  not 
cited  as  a  thing  at  all  unusual,  for  the  unbiassed  testimony  of  the 
subalterns  and  even  the  troop  commanders  of  every  cavalry  regiment 
in  service  would  go  far  towards  establishing  the  fact  that  all  colonels 
of  cavalry  are  similarly  afflicted.  One  of  the  salient  peculiarities  of 
the  commanding  officer  of  the  Eleventh  was  a  conviction  that  nothing 
went  smoothly  in  the  regiment  unless  the  captains  were  all  on  duty 
with  their  companies  ;  for,  while  at  any  time  Colonel  Riggs  would  ap- 
prove an  application  for  a  lieutenant's  leave  of  absence,  it  was  worse 
than  pulling  teeth  to  get  him  to  do  likewise  for  a  gentleman  with  the 
double  bars  on  his  shoulder.  "Confound  the  man  !"  growled  Captain 
Greene, "  here  I've  been  seven  years  with  my  troop,  saving  up  for  a 
six  months'  leave,  and  the  old  rip  disapproves  it !  What  on  earth  can 
a  fellow  say  ?" 

"You  didn't  go  about  it  right,  Greeney,"  was  the  calm  rejoinder 
of  a  comrade  who  had  been  similarly  "cut"  the  year  previous.  "You 
should  have  laid  siege  to  him  through  Madame  a  month  or  so.  What 
she  says  as  to  who  goes  on  leave  and  who  doesn't  is  law  at  head-quar- 
ters, and  I  know  it.  Now,  you  watch  Noel.  That  fellow  is  wiser  in 
his  generation  than  all  the  rest  of  us  put  together.  It  isn't  six  months 
since  he  got  back  from  his  staif  detail,  and  you  see  how  constant  he  is 
in  his  attentions  to  the  old  lady.  Now,  I'll  bet  you  anything  you  like 
the  next  plum  that  tumbles  into  the  regiment  will  go  to  his  maw  and 
nobody  else's." 

"  Riggs  wouldn't  have  the  face  to  give  anything  to  Noel, — in  the 
way  of  detached  duty,  I  mean.  I  heard  him  say  when  *  Gordy'  was 
coming  back  to  the  regiment  that  he  wished  he  had  the  power  to  trans- 
fer subs  from  troop  to  troop :  he'd  put  Noel  with  the  most  exacting 
captain  he  knew  and  see  if  he  couldn't  get  a  little  square  service  out 
of  the  fellow." 

"  That's  all  right,  Greene.  That's  what  he  said  six  months  ago, 
before  Noel  was  really  back,  and  before  he  had  begun  doing  the  de- 
voted to  her  ladyshi})  at  head-quarters.  Riggs  wouldn't  say  so  now, 
— much  less  do  it.  She  wouldn't  let  him,  comrade  mine;  and  you 
know  it." 

"  Noel  has  been  doing  first-rate  since  he  got  back,  Jim,"  said  Cap- 
tain Greene,  after  a  pause. 

"  Oh,  Noel's  no  bad  soldier  in  garrison, — at  drill  or  parade.  It's 
field-work  and  scouting  that  knocks  him  endwise :  and  if  there's  an 

Indian  within  a  hundred  miles Well,  you  know  as  much  as  I  do 

on  that  subject." 

Greene  somewhat  gloomily  nodded  assent,  and  his  companion,  being 
wound  up  for  the  day,  plunged  ahead  with  his  remarks : 

"  Now,  I'm  just  putting  this  and  that  together,  Greene,  and  I'll 
make  you  a  bet.  Riggs  has  managed  things  ever  since  he  has  been 
colonel  so  that  a  lieutenant  is  ordered  detached  for  recruiting-service 
and  never  a  captain.    It  won't  be  long  before  Lane  gets  his  promotion  ; 


302  TWO  SOLDIERS. 

and  I'll  bet  you  that  even  before  he  gets  it  Riggs  will  have  his  letter 
skimming  to  Washington  begging  his  immediate  recall  and  nominating 
a  sub  to  take  his  place.  I'll  give  you  odds  on  that ;  and  I'll  bet  you 
even  that  the  sub  he  names  will  be  Gordy  Noel." 

But,  though  he  scouted  the  idea,  Greene  would  not  bet,  for  at  that 
instant  the  club-room  was  invaded  by  a  rush  of  young  officers  just 
returning  from  target-practice,  and  the  jolliest  laugh,  the  most  all- 
pervading  voice,  the  cheeriest  personality,  of  the  lot  were  those  of  the 
gentleman  whose  name  Captain  Jim  Rawlins  had  just  spoken. 

"  What  you  going  to  have,  fellows?"  he  called.  *'  Here,  Billy,  old 
man,  put  up  that  spelter:  I  steered  the  gang  in  here,  and  it's  my  treat. 
Don't  go,  Forbes ;  come  back,  old  fellow,  and  join  us.  Captain,  what 
shall  it  be?  Say,  you  all  know  Dick  Cassidy  of  the  Seventh? 
I  heard  such  a  good  rig  on  him  this  morning,  I  got  a  letter  from 
Tommy  Craig,  who's  on  duty  at  the  War  Department,  and  he  told  me 
that  Dick  was  there  trying  to  get  one  of  these  blasted  college  details. 
What  d'ye  suppose  a  cavalryman  wants  to  leave  his  regiment  for,  to 
take  a  thing  like  that?" 

"  Perhaps  his  health  is  impaired,  Noel,"  said  Wharton,  with  a 
humorous  twinkle  in  his  handsome  eyes.  "  Even  cavalrymen  have 
been  known  to  have  to  quit  their  beloved  profession  on  that  account 
and  get  something  soft  in  the  East  for  a  year  or  so." 

The  color  mounted  to  Noel's  cheeks,  but  he  gave  no  other  sign 
of  understanding  the  shaft  as  aimed  at  him.  Promptly  and  loudly  as 
ever  he  spoke  out : 

"  Oh,  of  course,  if  he's  used  up  in  service  and  has  to  go  in  to  re- 
cuperate, all  well  and  good ;  but  I  always  sujiposed  Cassidy  was  a 
stalwart  in  point  of  health  and  constitution.  Who's  going  to  the  doctor's 
to-night?— you.  Jack  ?" 

Jack — otherwise  Lieutenant  John  Tracy — shook  his  head  as  he 
whiffed  at  the  cigarette  he  had  just  lighted  and  then  stretched  forth  his 
hand  for  the  foaming  glass  of  beer  which  the  attendant  brought  him, 
but  vouchsafed  no  verbal  reply.  Lee  and  Martin  edged  over  to  where 
the  two  captains  were  playing  their  inevitable  game  of  seveu-up.  Two 
of  the  juniors, — young  second  lieutenants, — despite  the  extreme  cor- 
diality of  Noel's  invitation,  begged  to  be  excused,  as  they  did  not  care 
to  drink  anything, — even  a  lemonade;  and  no  sooner  had  the  party  tin- 
ished  their  motlest  potation  than  there  was  a  general  move.  Wallace 
and  Hearn  went  in  to  the  billiard-room ;  Wharton  and  Lee  started 
in  the  direction  of  their  quarters;  and  presently  Mr.  Noel  was  the  only 
man  in  the  club-room  without  an  occupation  of  some  kind  or  a  comrade 
to  talk  to. 

Now,  why  should  this  have  been  the  case?  Noel's  whole  manner 
was  overflowing  with  jollity  and  kindliness;  his  eyes  beamed  and 
sparkled  as  he  looked  from  one  man  to  the  other ;  he  hailed  each  in 
turn  by  his  Christian  name  and  in  tones  of  most  cordial  friendship; 
he  chatted  and  laughed  and  had  comical  anecdotes  to  tell  the  party; 
he  was  a  tall,  stylish,  fine-looking  fellow,  with  expressive  dark  eyes 
and  wavy  dark-brown  hair ;  his  moustache  was  the  secret  envy  of 
more  than  half  his  associates ;  his  figure  was  really  elegant  in  its  grace 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  303 

and  suppleness ;  his  uniforms  fitted  him  like  a  glove,  and  were  invariably 
of  Hatfield's  choicest  liandiwork.  Appearances  were  with  him  in  every 
sense  of  the  word ;  and  yet  there  was  some  reason  why  his  society  was 
politely  but  positively  shunned  by  several  of  his  brother  officers  and 
"cultivated"  by  none. 

It  was  only  a  few  years  after  the  great  war  when  Gordon  Noel 
joined  the  Eleventh  from  civil  life.  He  came  of  an  old  and  influen- 
tial family,  and  was  welcomed  in  the  regiment  as  an  acquisition.  He 
made  friends  rapidly,  and  was  for  two  or  three  years  as  popular  a 
youngster  as  there  was  iu  the  service.  Then  the  troop  to  which  he  was 
attached  was  ordered  to  the  Plains,  via  Leavenworth.  It  was  a  long 
journey  by  boat,  and  by  the  time  they  reached  the  old  frontier  city 
orders  and  telegrams  were  awaiting  them,  one  of  which,  apparently  to 
Mr.  Noel's  great  surprise,  detached  him  from  his  company  and  directed 
him  to  report  for  temporary  duty  at  the  War  Department  in  the  city 
of  Washington.  He  was  there  eighteen  months,  during  which  time 
his  regiment  had  some  sharp  battles  with  the  Cheyennes  and  Kiowas 
in  Kansas  and  the  Indian  Territory.  Then  a  new  Secretary  of  War 
gave  ear  to  the  oft-repeated  appeals  of  the  colonel  of  the  Eleventh  to 
have  Mr,  Noel  and  one  or  two  other  detached  gentlemen  returned  to 
duty  with  their  respective  companies,  and  just  as  they  were  moving  to 
the  Pacific  coast  the  absentees  reported  for  duty  and  went  along.  At 
Vancouver  and  Walla  W^alla  Noel  seemed  to  regain  by  his  joviality 
and  good-fellowship  what  he  had  lost  in  the  year  and  a  half  of  his 
absence,  though  there  were  out-and-out  soldiers  in  the  Eleventh  who 
said  that  the  man  who  would  stay  on  "  fancy  duty"  in  Washington  or 
anywhere  else  while  his  comrades  were  in  the  midst  of  a  stirring  cam- 
paign against  hostile  Indians  couldn't  be  of  the  right  sort. 

Up  in  Oregon  the  Modoc  troubles  soon  began,  and  several  troops 
were  sent  southward  from  their  stations,  scouting.  There  were  several 
little  skirmishes  between  the  various  detachments  and  the  agile  In- 
dians, wnth  no  great  loss  on  either  side;  but  when  "Captain  Jack" 
retired  to  the  natural  fastness  of  the  lava-beds,  serious  work  began,  and 
here  Mr.  Noel  was  found  to  he  too  ill  to  take  part  in  the  campaign, 
and  was  sent  in  to  San  Francisco  to  recuperate.  The  short  but  bloody 
war  was  brought  to  a  close  without  his  having  taken  part  in  any  of  its 
actions,  but  he  rejoined  after  a  delightful  convalescence  in  San  Fran- 
cisco (where  it  was  understood  that  he  had  broken  down  only  after 
riding  night  and  day  and  all  alone  some  three  hundred  miles  through 
the  wilderness  with  orders  to  a  battalion  of  his  regiment  that  was 
urgently  needed  at  the  front),  and  was  able  to  talk  very  glibly  of  what 
had  occurred  down  in  the  Klamath  Lake  country.  Then  came  his 
promotion  to  a  first-lieutenancy,  and,  as  luck  would  have  it,  to  a  troop 
stationed  at  the  Presidio.  For  three  months  he  was  the  gayest  of  the 
gay,  the  life  of  parties  of  every  kind  both  iu  town  and  in  garrison ; 
he  was  in  exuberant  health  and  spirits ;  he  danced  night  after  night, 
and  was  the  most  popular  partner  ever  welcomed  in  the  parlors  of 
hospitable  San  Francisco.  And  then  all  of  a  sudden  there  came  tidings 
of  an  outbreak  among  the  Arizona  Apaches  of  so  formidable  a  character 
that  the  division  commander  decided  to  send  his  Presidio  troopers  to 


304  '^WO  SOLDIERS. 

reinforce  the  one  regiment  that  was  trying  to  cover  a  whole  Territory. 
There  was  pathetic  parting,  with  no  end  of  lamentation,  when  Mr.  Noel 
was  spirited  away  with  his  lynx-eyed  captain ;  but  they  need  not  have 
worried, — those  fair  dames  and  damsels ;  not  a  hair  of  his  handsome 
head  was  in  danger,  for  the  — th  had  grappled  with  and  throttled  their 
foes  before  the  detachment  from  the  Eleventh  were  fairly  in  the  Terri- 
tory, and  the  latter  were  soon  ordered  to  return  and  to  bring  with  them, 
as  prisoners  to  be  confined  at  Alcatraz,  the  leaders  of  the  outbreak, 
who  would  be  turned  over  to  them  by  the  — th.  To  hear  Noel  tell 
of  these  fierce  captives  afterwards  was  somewhat  confusing,  as,  from 
his  account,  it  would  appear  that  they  had  l)een  taken  in  hand-to-hand 
conflict  by  himself  and  a  small  detachment  of  his  own  troop ;  but  these 
were  stories  told  only  to  over-credulous  friends. 

The  Eleventh  came  eastward  across  the  Kockies  in  time  to  par- 
ticipate in  the  great  campaign  against  the  Sioux  in  '76,  and  was  on  the 
Yellowstone  when  Custer  and  his  favorite  companies  were  being  wiped 
out  of  existence  on  the  Little  Horn.  The  news  of  that  tragedy  made 
many  a  heart  sick,  and  Mr.  Noel  was  so  much  affected  that  when  his 
comrades  started  to  make  a  night  ride  to  tlie  front  to  join  what  was 
left  of  the  Seventh,  he  was  left  behind,  ostensibly  to  sleep  off  a  violent 
headache.  He  pro.mised  to  ride  after  and  catch  them  the  next  day,  but, 
through  some  error,  got  aboard  General  Terry's  steamer,  the  Far  West, 
and  made  himself  so  useful  looking  after  the  wounded  that  the  surgeon 
in  charge  was  grateful,  and,  knowing  nothing  of  his  antecedents,  gave 
him  a  certificate  on  which  he  based  an  application  for  leave  on  account 
of  sickness,  and  went  to  Bismarck  with  the  wounded,  and  thence  to 
the  distant  East,  where  he  thrilled  clubs  and  dinner-tables  with  graphic 
accounts  of  the  Custer  battle  and  of  how  we  got  up  just  in  time  to 
save  the  remnant  of  the  Seventh.  The  Eleventh  fought  all  through 
the  campaign  of '76  and  the  chase  after  Chief  Joseph  in  '77  ;  but  Noel 
was  again  on  temporary  duty  at  the  AVar  Department,  and  there  he 
stayed  until  '78,  by  which  time  various  officials  had  become  acquainted 
with  some  of  the  facts  in  the  case.  The  Eleventh  "  cold-shouldered" 
him  for  a  while  after  he  got  back ;  but  they  happened  to  be  now  in  a 
region  where  there  were  no  "  hostiles,"  and  where  hops,  germans,  theat- 
ricals, tableaux,  and  entertainments  of  all  kinds  were  the  rage.  No 
other  man  could  be  half  so  useful  to  the  ladies  as  Gordon  Noel.  He  had 
just  come  from  Washington,  and  knew  ever^ytking ;  and  when  they  took 
him  up  and  made  much  of  him  'twas  no  use  for  the  men  to  stand  aloof; 
they  had  to  take  him  up  too.  Lane  was  adjutant  of  the  regiment  at 
this  time  ;  and  he,  having  seen  every  report  and  letter  with  reference  to 
Mr.  Noel  that  had  been  filed  in  the  office,  would  hardly  speak  to  him 
at  all  except  when  on  duty,  and  this  feeling  was  intensified  when,  a  year 
or  so  later,  they  were  suddenly  hurried  to  Arizona  on  account  of  a  wild 
dash  of  the  Chiricahuas,  and  as  the  different  companies  took  the  field 
and  hastened  in  the  pursuit  Mr.  Noel  was  afflicted  with  a  rheumatic 
fever  of  such  alarming  character  that  the  youthful  "contract"  surgeon 
who  had  accompanied  his  troop  held  him  back  at  the  railway  and 
speedily  sent  him  East  on  a  three  months'  sick-leave,  which  family  influ- 
ence soon  made  six.    And  this  was  about  the  record  and  reputation  that 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  305 

Mr.  Noel  had  succeeded  in  making  when  Captain  Rawlins  was  ready  to 
bet  Captain  Greene  that,  despite  it  all,  the  regimental  Adonis  would  get 
the  recruiting-detail,  vice  Lane,  for  everybody  knew  Fred  Lane  so  well 
as  to  prophesy  tliat  he  would  apply  to  be  relieved  and  ordered  to  rejoin 
his  regiment,  and  everybody  was  eager  to  see  him  take  hold  of  poor 
old  Curran's  troop,  for  if  anybody  could  "  straighten  it  out"  Lane 
could. 

The  news  that  Noel  was  named  by  the  colonel  caused  a  sensation 
at  regimental  head-quarters  which  the  Eleventh  will  probably  not  soon 
forget.  "  Old  Riggs"  had  become  the  commander  of  the  regiment  after 
it  seemed  that  the  Indian  wars  were  over  and  done  with,  and,  thanks  to 
our  peculiar  system  of  promotion,  was  now  at  the  head  of  an  organiza- 
tion with  which  he  had  never  served  as  subaltern,  captain,  or  junior 
field-officer.  Discipline  forbade  saying  anything  to  his  ftice, — for  which 
the  colonel  was  devoutly  thankful, — but  everybody  said  to  everybody 
else  that  it  was  all  Mrs.  Riggs's  doing,  a  fact  which  the  colonel  very 
well  knew. 

So  did  Noel,  though  he  rushed  into  the  club-room  apparently  over- 
whelmed with  amazement  and  delight : 

"  I  supposed  of  course  it  would  be  Follansbee.  I  never  dreamed 
he  would  give  it  to  me.  Come  up,  crowd  !  come  up  everybody  !  It's 
champagne  to-day,"  he  jovially  shouted  ;  and  there  were  men  who 
could  not  bear  to  snub  him  openly.  Nothing  had  really  ever  been 
proved  against  him:  why  should  they  judge  him?  But  there  were 
several  who  declined,  alleging  one  excuse  or  another,  and  even  those 
who  drank  with  him  did  so  while  applauding  Wharton's  toast : 

"  Well,  Noel,  here's  to  you  !  It  ought  to  have  been  Follansbee ; 
but  I  wish  you  the  joy  of  it." 

III. 

Never  before  had  Fred  Lane  known  the  sensation  of  being  reluc- 
tant to  rejoin  his  regiment.  When  the  colonel  wrote  a  personal  letter 
to  him  some  eight  or  ten  weeks  previous,  telling  him  that  Curran 
would  almost  surely  get  the  next  vacancy  on  the  retired  list  and  that 
he  would  expect  his  old  adjutant  to  come  back  to  them  at  once  and 
restore  efficiency  and  discipline  to  Troop  D,  Mr.  Lane  replied  with 
the  utmost  readiness ;  but  this  was  before  Mabel  Vincent  came  into  his 
life  and  changed  its  whole  current.  How  much  and  how  devotedly  he 
loved  her,  Lane  himself  never  realized  until  the  day  his  promotion 
reached  him,  and  with  it  the  news  that  his  successor  was  already  desig- 
nated. He  knew  that  within  the  week  he  might  expect  orders  from  the 
War  Department  to  join  his  troop  at  Fort  Graham  as  soon  as  he  had 
turned  over  his  funds  and  property  to  the  officer  designated  to  relieve 
him  ;  he  knew  Noel  so  well  as  to  feel  assured  that  he  would  not  wait 
for  the  arrival  of  formal  orders,  but,  if  the  colonel  would  permit,  would 
start  the  instant  he  received  telegraphic  notification  from  Washing- 
ton that  "  Old  Riggs's"  nomination  had  been  approved.  "  This  is 
Wednesday," he  mused;  "and  by  a  week  from  to-day  I  can  count  on 
his  being  here ;  and  in  ten  days  I  must  go." 


306  ^J^O  SOLDIERS. 

There  was  a  large  party  that  night,  and,  fully  a  week  before,  he  had 
asked  that  he  might  have  the  honor  of  being  Miss  Vincent's  escort. 
It  was  with  great  disappointment  that  he  received  her  answer,  which 
was  spoken,  however,  in  a  tone  of  such  sorrow  that  poor  Lane  felt 
that  tlie  barbs,  at  least,  of  the  arrow  had  been  removed. 

"  I  don't  know  how  to  tell  you  how  I  regret  having  to  say  '  No,' 
Mr.  Lane,"  she  said,  and  there  was  a  tremor  in  her  voice  and  a  little 
quiver  at  the  corners  of  her  pretty  mouth.  "  I  have  almost  felt  con- 
fident that  you  were  going  to  ask  me, — is  that  a  very  bold  thing  to 
say  ? — for  you  have  been  so — so  kind  to  me  since  our  first  meeting,  and 
indeed  I  wanted  in  some  way  to  let  you  know  that  there  were  other 
arrangements  already  made.  But  how  could  I  say  anything?  Mr. 
Rossiter,  the  eldest  son  of  father's  former  partner,  comes  to  pay  us  a 
visit  of  four  or  five  days  before  he  goes  abroad  again.  And  he  is 
a  great  friend  of  the  Chiltons,  and,  being  our  guest,  he  goes  with  me. 
Indeed,  I'm  very  sorry,  Mr.  Lane,  if  you  are  disappointed." 

Fred,  of  course,  begged  that  she  should  give  herself  no  uneasiness. 
There  was  no  other  girl  whom  he  had  thought  of  taking.  Mr.  Ros- 
siter  was  very  much  to  be  envied,  and  he  would  like  to  call  and  pay 
his  respects  to  that  gentleman  when  he  arrived.  "  By  all  means  do," 
said  Miss  Vincent;  and,  if  not  asking  too  much,  would  Mr.  Lane  get 
him  a  card  at  the  club  ?  Brother  Rex  was  away,  or  she  wouldn't 
trouble  him.  But  Lane  was  delighted  to  be  troubled.  Anything  she 
asked — any  service  he  could  render  her — he  flew  with  untold  eager- 
ness to  accomplish  ;  and,  though  properly  jealous  of  the  coming  man, 
— this  Mr.  Rossiter,  of  whom  he  had  never  before  heard  mention, — he 
was  eager  to  meet  and  entertain  him.  The  gentleman  was  to  arrive  on 
Monday,  and  Lane  spent  a  delightful  evening  at  the  Vincents',  won- 
dering why  he  hadn't  come.  Tuesday  would  surely  bring  him,  or  an 
explanation,  said  Miss  Mabel ;  and  on  Tuesday  Lane  was  prompt  to 
call,  and  glad  to  spend  another  long  evening  at  the  hospitable  old 
homestead,  and  stoutly  did  he  hold  his  ground  through  three  succes- 
sive relays  of  visitors,  encouraged  to  do  so  by  a  certain  look  in  his 
lady's  bright  eyes  that  spoke  volumes  to  his  throbbing  heart,  and  that 
very  next  morning  at  the  club  he  found  her  dainty  missive  on  his 
breakfast-table.  How  early  she  must  have  risen  to  write  it ! — and  to 
have  seen  the  announcement  of  his  promotion  in  the  Washington  de- 
spatches !  True,  he  remembered  that  it  was  frequently  her  pleasure  to 
be  up  betimes  to  give  her  father  his  coffee ;  for  Vincent  p^-re  was  a 
business-man  of  the  old  school,  who  liked  to  begin  early  in  the  day. 
Of  course  he  had  seen  the  name  in  the  Washington  news  and  had 
read  the  paragraph  to  her:  that  was  the  way  to  account  for  it.  But 
her  note  was  a  joy  to  him  in  its  sweet,  half-shy,  half-confidential 
wording.  She  merely  wrote  to  say  that  Mr.  Rossiter  had  wired  that 
he  would  be  detained  in  New  York  until  the  end  of  the  week ;  and 
now,  if  Captain  Lane  had  really  made  no  engagement,  she  would  be 
glad  indeed  if  he  cared  to  renew  the  invitation  which  with  such  regret 
she  was  compelled  a  week  ago  to  decline.  Lane  totally  forgot  his  break- 
fast in  his  haste  to  rush  to  the  writing- room  and  send  her  a  reply. 

All  "  The  Queen  City"  had  been  quick  to  see  or  hear  of  his  "  sudden 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  307 

smite"  and  consequent  devotion  to  Mabel  Vincent,  and  great  was  the 
speculation  as  to  the  probable  result. 

"  How  can  she  encourage  him  as  she  does  ?  What  can  she  see  in 
that  solemn  prig?"  indignantly  demanded  Miss  Fanny  Holton,  who 
had  shown  a  marked  interest  in  Mr.  Lane  during  his  first  six  months 
in  society  and  had  danced  with  him  all  through  the  season.  "  He  is 
one  of  the  forlornest,  stupidest  men  I  ever  knew, — utterly  unlike  what 
I  supposed  a  cavalry  officer  to  be." 

"  And  yet,  Fanny  dear,  you  were  very  much  taken  up  with  him 
the  first  winter, — last  year,  I  mean,"  was  the  reply  of  her  most  devoted 
and  intimate  friend. 

"  What  an  outrageous  fib !  I  wasn't ;  and  if  I  was,  it  was  because 
I  wanted  to  draw  him  out, — do  something  to  enliven  him.  Of  coui-se 
I  danced  with  him  a  great  deal.  There  isn't  a  better  dancer  in  town, 
and  you  know  it,  Maud  :  you've  said  so  yourself  time  and  again." 

"  Well,  you  didn't  draw  him  out, — nor  on.  But  the  moment  he 
sees  Mabel  Vincent  he  falls  heels  over  head  in  love  with  her.  Why,  I 
never  saw  a  man  whose  every  look  and  word  so  utterly  'gave  him 
away,'  "  was  Miss  Maud's  characteristic  and  slangy  reply.  "  And  it's 
my  belief  she'll  take  him,  too.  She  likes  him  well,  and  she  says  he 
knows  more  than  any  other  man  she  has  ever  met. 

"  He  has  money,  too,  and  can  resign  and  live  here  if  she  wants 
him  to,"  went  on  Miss  Maud,  after  a  pause  which,  oddly  enough,  her 
friend  had  not  taken  advantage  of. 

"You  don't  know  anything  about  what  Mabel  Vincent  will  or 
won't  do,  Maud.  I've  known  her  years  longer  than  you  have,  and, 
though  I'm  awfully  fond  of  her,  and  wouldn't  have  this  repeated  for 
the  world, — and  you  must  swear  never  to  repeat  it  to  anybody, — I 
know  her  so  well  that  I  can  say  she  doesn't  know  her  own  mind  now 
and  would  change  it  in  less  than  six  months  if  she  did.  She  is  as 
fickle  in  love  as  in  her  friendships ;  and  you  can't  have  forgotten  how 
inseparable  you  and  she  were  for  three  months  at  Madame  Hoifman's, 
and  then  how  she  fastened  on  Katherine  Ward.  I  don't  care  a  snap 
of  my  finger  whom  Mr.  Lane  chooses  to  fall  in  love  with,  but  if  it's 
Mabel  Vincent  he'd  better  insist  on  a  short  engagement  and  stand 
guard  over  her  with  his  sword  in  the  mean  time.  It's  '  out  of  sight  out 
of  mind'  with  her,  and  has  been  ever  since  she  was  four  years  old." 

And  so  in  the  smoking-room  at  the  club  and  in  the  feminine  cliques 
and  coteries  in  society  the  probability  of  Mabel  Vincent's  accepting 
Lieutenant  Lane  was  a  matter  of  frequent  discussion.  But  of  all  this 
chit-chat  and  speculation  Captain  Lane  stood  in  profound  ignorance 
as  he  entered  his  dark  office  that  drenching  Wednesday  morning 
with  her  precious  note  in  his  waistcoat-pocket.  He  neither  knew  nor 
cared  what  old  Vincent  was  worth :  all  he  wanted  was  Mabel's  own 
sweet  self,  for  he  loved  her  with  his  whole  heart  and  soul,  with  all 
the  strength  and  devotion  of  his  deep  and  loyal  nature.  He  could 
hardly  control  his  voice  so  as  to  speak  in  the  conventional  official  tone 
to  the  sergeant  in  charge  as  the  latter  saluted  him  at  the  door-way 
and  made  the  customary  report  of  the  presence  of  the  detachment. 
Lane  stepped  into  his  little  dressing-room  and  quickly  appeared  in  his 


308  '^WO  SOLDIERS. 

neat  fatigue  uniform.  There  wasn't  a  ghost  of  a  chance  of  would-be 
recruits  wandering  in  that  day  ;  but  he  was  a  stickler  for  discipline.  He 
required  his  men  to  be  always  in  their  appropriate  uniform,  and  never 
neglected  wearing  his  own  while  in  the  office ;  yet  in  all  the  Queen 
City  no  one  but  his  little  party,  the  applicants  for  enlistment,  and  the 
few  citizens  who  came  in  on  business  had  ever  seen  him  except  in  civil- 
ian dress. 

"  These  reports  and  returns  all  go  in  to-morrow,  I  believe  ?"  said 
Lane  to  his  sergeant. 

"  They  do,  sir." 

"  Well,  will  you  take  them  in  to  the  clerk  again,"  said  Lane,  blush- 
ing vividly,  "and  tell  him  to  alter  that  '  First  Lieutenant'  to  'Captain' 
wherever  it  occurs?  The — official  notification  is  just  here,"  he  added, 
almost  apologetically. 

"Sure  I'm  glad  to  hear  it,  sir.  All  the  men  will  be  glad,  sir;  and 
I'm  proud  to  think  that  I  was  the  first  man  to  salute  the  captain  to- 
day," was  the  sergeant's  delighted  answer.    "  I'll  call  Taintor  in  at  once." 

But  Lane  was  blissfully  thinking  of  the  little  note,  now  transferred 
to  the  breast-pocket  of  his  uniform  blouse,  and  of  how  not  his  honest 
old  sergeant  but  sweet  Mabel  Vincent  was  the  first  to  hail  him  by  his 
new  title ;  and  in  thinking  of  the  note  and  of  her  he  failed  to  notice 
that,  so  far  from  coming  at  once,  it  was  fully  ten  or  fifteen  minutes 
before  Taintor,  the  clerk,  put  in  an  appearance,  and  when  he  did  that 
his  face  was  ashen-gray  and  his  hand  shook  as  though  with  palsy. 

"  The  sergeant  will  tell  you  what  is  to  be  done  with  the  papers, 
Taintor,"  said  Lane,  conscious  that  he  was  blushing  again,  and  conse- 
quently striving  to  appear  engrossed  in  the  morning  paper.  The  man 
picked  them  up  one  after  another  and  without  a  word ;  he  dropped  one 
to  the  floor  in  his  nervousness,  but  made  a  quick  dive  for  it,  and  then 
for  the  door,  as  though  fearful  of  detention.  He  hurried  through  the 
room  in  which  the  sergeant  and  one  or  two  men  were  seated,  and,  reach- 
ing his  big  desk  at  a  rear  window,  where  he  was  out  of  sight,  dropped 
the  papers  on  the  floor  and  buried  his  face  in  his  shaking  hands. 

A  few  minutes  later  the  sergeant,  coming  into  the  little  cubby-hole 
of  a  room  in  which  Taintor  had  preferred  to  do  his  work,  found  him 
with  his  arms  on  the  desk  and  his  face  hidden  in  them,  and  the  soldier 
clerk  was  quivering  and  twitching  from  head  to  foot. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you,  Taintor  ?"  growled  the  old  soldier. 
"Didn't  you  promise  me  you'd  quit  drinking?" 

The  face  that  looked  up  into  his  was  ghastly. 

"  It  isn't  drink,  sergeant,"  moaned  the  man.  "  At  least,  I  haven't 
exceeded  for  a  month.  I've  got  a  chill, — an  ague  of  some  kind. 
Just  let  me  run  down  to  the  drug-store  and  get  some  quinine, — with 
perhaps  a  little  brandy.  Then  I  can  do  this  work.  Do,  sergeant.  I 
won't  abuse  your  kindness." 

"  Well,  go,  then,"  was  the  reluctant  answer  ;  "  but  get  back  quick. 
And  only  one  drink,  mind  you." 

Taintor  seized  his  cap  and  fairly  tottered  through  the  adjoining  room 
to  the  stairway,  down  which  he  plunged  madly,  and,  heedless  of  the 
pelting  rain,  darted  across  the  street  to  the  gas -lighted  bar-room. 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  309 

"By  G — d,"  muttered  the  veteran  sergeant,  "there's  something 
worse  than  either  whiskey  or  ague  back  of  this ;  and  I  could  swear 
to  it." 

IV. 

Captain  Lane,  as  has  been  said,  allowed  until  the  following 
Wednesday  for  the  arrival  of  his  regimental  comrade  Mr.  Noel.  He 
was  not  a  little  surprised,  however,  on  the  following  Tuesday  morning, 
as  he  sat  at  breakfast  at  the  club,  glancing  over  the  morning  paper,  to 
come  upon  the  following  announcement :  '    ' 

"  Distinguished  Aeeival. 

"Our  readers  will  be  interested  in  knowing  that  Captain  Gordon  Noel, 
of  the  Eleventh  U.S.  Cavalry,  has  been  ordered  on  duty  in  the  city, 
in  charge  of  the  cavalry  rendezvous  on  Sycamore  Street.  Captain  Noel 
comes  to  us  with  a  reputation  that  should  win  instant  recognition  and 
the  heartiest  welcome  from  the  Queen  City.  For  nearly  fifteen  years  he 
has  served  with  his  gallant  regiment,  and  has  been  prominent  in  every 
one  of  the  stirring  campaigns  against  the  hostile  Indians  of  our  Western 
frontier.  He  has  fought  almost  every  savage  tribe  on  the  continent; 
was  disabled  in  the  Modoc  campaign  in  '73,  commanded  the  advance- 
guard  of  his  regiment  that  reached  the  scene  of  the  Custer  massacre 
only  just  in  time  to  rescue  the  remnant  of  the  regiment  from  a  similar 
fate,  and  for  his  services  on  that  campaign  was  awarded  the  compli- 
ment of  staff  duty  in  the  city  of  Washington.  At  his  own  request, 
however,  he  was  relieved  from  this,  and  rejoined  his  regiment  when 
hostilities  were  threatened  in  Arizona  two  years  ago.  And  now,  as  a 
rewaaxl  for  gallant  and  distinguished  conduct  in  the  field,  he  is  given 
the  prized  recruiting-detail.  Captain  Noel  is  tiie  guest  of  his  cousin, 
the  Hon.  Amos  Withers,  at  his  palatial  home  on  the  Heights  ;  and  our 
fair  readers  will  be  interested  in  knosving  that  he  is  a  bachelor,  and, 
despite  his  years  of  hardship,  danger,  and  privation,  is  a  remarkably 
fine-looking  man. 

"  It  is  underetood  that  Lieutenant  Lane,  the  present  recruiting 
officer,  has  been  ordered  to  return  to  his  regiment  at  once,  although 
the  time  has  not  yet  expired." 

In  the  expression  on  Captain  Lane's  face  as  he  finished  this  item 
there  was  something  half  vexed,  half  comical. 

A  few  hours  afterwards,  while  he  was  seated  in  his  office,  the 
orderly  entered,  and  announced  two  gentlemen  to  see  the  captain. 
Lane  turned  to  receive  his  visitors,  but  before  he  could  advance 
across  the  dark  room  the  taller  of  the  two  entering  the  door  made  a 
spring  towards  him,  clapped  him  cordially  on  the  back,  and,  with  the 
utmost  delight,  shouted,  "  How  are  you,  old  fellow?  How  well  you're 
looking!  Why,  I  haven't  set  eyes  on  you  since  we  were  out  on  the 
field  hunting  up  old  Geronimo's  trail !  By  Jove !  but  I'm  glad  to 
see  you  !"  And  Lane  had  no  difficulty  in  recognizing  at  once  his 
regimental  comrade  Gordon  Noel. 

"  Let  me  present  you  to  my  cousin,  Mr.  Withers,"  said  Noel. 
Vol.  XL  v.— 21 


310  TWO  SOLDIERS. 

And  a  stout,  florid  man,  whom  Lane  had  often  seen  at  the  club, 
but  to  whom  he  had  never  hitherto  been  made  known,  bowed  with 
much  cordiality  and  extended  his  hand. 

"  I  didn't  know,"  said  he,  "  that  you  were  a  friend  of  Noel's,  or 
I'd  have  come  to  see  you  before,  and  invited  you  to  my  house." 

"Friend  !"  exclaimed  Noel.  "Friend I  Why,  we've  been  partners 
and  chums !  Why,  we've  been  all  over  this  continent  together.  Withers  ! 
Fred,  do  you  remember  the  time  we  were  up  on  the  Sioux  campaign? — 
the  night  I  went  over  with  those  fellows  to  hunt  up  the  trail  to  the 
Custer  ground  ?  Let's  see,  you  were  acting  adjutant  then,  if  I  recollect 
right.     Oh,  yes  ;  you  were  back  with  the  colonel." 

Lane  received  his  guests  with  perfect  courtesy,  but  without  that 
overweening  cordiality  which  distinguished  the  other's  manner,  and 
then  Mr.  Withers  entered  into  the  conversation.  Turning  to  Captain 
Lane,  he  said, — 

"  I  didn't  know  that  you  had  been  on  the  Sioux  campaign.  Were 
you  there  too  ?" 

Lane  replied  quietly  that  he  had  been  with  his  regiment  through 
that  year, — in  fact,  had  never  been  away  from  it  for  any  length  of 
time,  except  on  this  detail  which  had  brought  him  to  his  old  home. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  I  remember  having  heard  that  this  was  your  home.  I 
am  very  sorry  indeed  that  you  did  not  make  yourself  known  to  me 
before,"  said  Mr.  Withers.  "  You  know  that  I  am  a  very  busy  man 
and  don't  get  around  much.  Now  you  can  come  and  dine  with  us 
this  evening,  can  you  not?  Mrs.  Withers  will  certainly  expect  you, 
now  that  Noel  is  here." 

"  I  am  very  sorry  indeed,  Mr.  Withers,  but  I  am  already  engaged." 

"  You  must  make  early  bids  if  you  want  to  get  this  young  man, 
Amos,"  put  in  Mr.  Noel,  affectionately  patting  Lane  on  the  shoulder. 
"  It  was  just  so  in  the  regiment.  He  was  always  in  demand. — Well, 
when  can  you  come,  Fred?     What  evening  shall  we  say?" 

"  It  will  depend,  perhaps,  on  the  day  I  turn  over  the  property  to 
you.     How  soon  do  you  wish  to  take  hold  ?" 

"  Oh,  any  time.     Any  day.     Whenever  you're  ready." 

"  I'm  ready  now,  to-day,  if  you  choose,"  was  Lane's  prompt 
response.     "  I  fancied  you  might  be  here  by  to-morrow." 

"Yes,  you  bet  I  didn't  let  the  grass  grow  under  ray  feet.  The 
moment  we  got  the  telegraphic  notification  that  the  colonel's  nomina- 
tion was  approved,  I  lit  out  for  the  railroad,"  said  Noel,  laughing 
gleefully. 

"And  when  will  you  come  in  and  take  over  the  property  ?  There's 
a  good  deal  of  clothing  to  be  counted.  As  for  the  funds,  they,  of 
course,  are  all  in  the  bank." 

"  Suit  yourself  about  that,  Freddy,  old  boy.  I'm  going  down 
street  with  Amos  now.     How'U  to-morrow  morning  do?" 

"  Very  well  indeed.    You  will  find  me  here  any  time  you  come  in." 

"  All  right.  Now  get  out  of  your  yellow  stripes  and  come  along 
down  town  with  us.  The  carriage  is  right  here  at  the  door.  We're 
going  over  to  see  the  works, — Mr.  Withers's  foundries,  you  know. 
Come." 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  311 

"Yes,  come  with  us.  I  think  I  have  heard  it  was  your  father 
who — ah — who  was  in  the  same  line  of  business  at  one  time,  Mr. 
Lane,"  said  Mr.  Withers. 

"  Captain  Lane,  Amos  ! — Captain  Lane  !  Great  Scott !  you  mustn't 
'  mister'  a  man  who  has  been  through  the  years  of  service  he  has." 

"  I  beg  pai'don.  I  did  not  so  understand  you,  Gordon,  when  we 
were  talking  last  night  with  the — when  we  were  having  our  smoke 
and  chat  after  dinner. — You  will  come  with  us,  won't  you,  captain  ?" 

"  I  wish  I  could,  Mr.  Withers,  but  my  office-hours  have  to  be 
observed,  and  I  cannot  leave  in  the  morning.  Thank  you  heartily 
none  the  less. — Then  you  will  be  here  to-morrow,  Noel  ?" 

"  To-morrow  be  it,  Fred  :  so  au  revoir,  if  you  can't  join  us.  I 
mustn't  keep  Withers  waiting, — business-man,  you  kuow.  God  bless 
you,  old  fellow,  you  don't  begin  to  realize  how  delighted  I  am  to  see 
you !     So  long." 

"  But  about  dining  with  us.  Captain " 

"Oh,  Lord,  yes!"  burst  in  Noel.  "What  evening,  now?  I'd 
almost  forgotten.  Getting  in  among  bricks  and  mortar  addles  my 
head.  'Tisn't  like  being  out  in  the  saddle  with  the  mountain  breezes 
all  around  you :  hey,  Fred  ?  Gad !  I  don't  know  whether  I  can 
stand  this  sort  of  tiling,  after  our  years  of  campaigning."  And  the 
lieutenant  looked  dubiously  around  upon  the  dark  and  dingy  walls 
and  windows. 

"Suppose  we  say  Thursday  evening,  captain,"  suggested  Mr. 
Withers  5  "  and  I'll  have  just  a  few  friends  to  meet  you  two  army 
gentlemen." 

"  I  shall  be  very  happy,  Mr.  Withers." 

"  Good  !  That's  the  taJk,  Fred  !"  heartily  shouted  the  lieutenant, 
bringing  his  hand  down  with  a  resounding  whack  between  Lane's 
shoulder-blades.  "Now  we  are  off!  Come  along,  Amos."  And 
the  cousins  disappeared  down  the  dark  stairway  and  popped  into  the 
carriage. 

"  Not  a  very  demonstrative  man,  your  friend  the  captain,  but 
seems  to  be  solid,"  was  Mr.  Withers's  remark. 

"  Oh,  yes.  He  is  about  as  solid  as  they  make  them,"  answered  Noel, 
airily.  "  Lane  has  his  faults,  like  most  men.  It  is  only  those  who  really 
know  him,  who  have  been  associated  with  him  for  years,  and  whom 
he  trusts  and  likes,  that  are  his  friends.  Now,  JTd  go  through  fire 
and  water  for  him,  and  he  would  for  me, — but  of  course  you  wouldn't 
think  it,  to  see  his  perfectly  conventional  society  manner  this  morning. 
If  I  had  left  you  down  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  ^nd  had  stolen  up  on 
tiptoe  and  gone  over  and  put  my  arms  round  his  neck,  you  would 
probably  have  found  us  hugging  each  other  and  dancing  about  that 
room  like  a  couple  of  grizzly  bears  when  you  came  up,  and  the  mo- 
ment he  caught  sight  of  you  he  would  have  blushed  crimson  and  got 
behind  his  ice  screen  in  a  second.  You  just  ought  to  have  seen  him  the 
night  we  met  each  other  with  our  detachments  down  near  Guadalupe 
Caflon  when  we  were  hunting  Geronimo.  Some  d — d  fool  of  a  ranch- 
man had  met  him  and  said  I  was  killed  in  the  little  affair  we  had  with 
the  Apache  rear-guard.     Why,  I  was  perfectly  amazed  at  the  emotion 


312  I'WO  SOLDIERS. 

he  showed.     Ever  since  then  I've  sworn  by  Fred  Lane ;  though,  of 
course,  he  has  traits  that  I  wish  he  conld  get  rid  of." 

"Good  officer,  isn't  he?" 

"  Ye — es,  Lane  isn't  lialf  a  bad  soldier.  Of  course  it  remains  to  be 
seen  what  sort  of  captain  he  will  make.  He  has  only  just  got  his  troo}5." 

"But  I  mean  he — M'ell — is  a  brave  man, — has  shown  up  well  in 
these  Indian  fights  you  were  telling  us  about?" 

"  H'm  !"  answered  Noel,  wnth  a  quiet  little  chuckle  :  "  if  he  wasn't, 
you  bet  he  wouldn't  have  been  all  these  years  in  the  Eleventh.  A 
shirk  of  any  kind  is  just  the  one  thing  we  wonH  stand.  Why,  Amos, 
when  old  Jim  Blazer  was  our  colonel  during  those  years  of  the  Sioux 
and  Cheyenne  and  Nez  Perce  wars  he  ran  two  men  out  of  the  regi- 
ment simply  because  they  managed  to  get  out  of  field  duty  two  suc- 
cessive years.  Oh,  no !  Lane's  all  right  as  a  soldier,  or  he  wouldn't  be 
wearing  the  crossed  sabres  of  the  Eleventh." 

Mr.  Withers  listened  to  these  tales  of  the  doings  and  sayings  of  the 
regiment  with  great  interest.  "  Lane  might  have  been  here  a  dozen 
years,"  said  he  to  himself,  "and  no  one  in  our  community  would  have 
known  anything  at  all  about  the  dangers  and  hardships  his  comrades 
and  he  had  encountered  in  their  frontier  service.  It's  only  when  some 
fellow  like  Noel  comes  to  us  that  we  learn  anything  whatever  of  our 
army  and  its  doings." 

He  took  his  cousin  to  the  great  moulding-works  of  which  he  was 
the  sole  head  and  proprietor,  and  presented  his  foremen  and  his  clerks 
to  the  captain,  and  told  them  of  his  career  in  the  Indian  wars  on  the 
frontier,  and  then  up  on  'Change  and  proudly  introduced  "  my  cousin 
Captain  Noel"  to  the  magnates  of  the  Queen  City  ;  and,  though  not  one 
out  of  a  dozen  was  in  the  least  degree  interested  in  "  the  captain"  or 
cared  a  grain  of  wheat  what  the  army  had  done  or  w^as  doing  on  the 
frontier,  almost  every  man  had  time  to  stop  and  shake  hands  cordially 
with  the  handsome  officer,  for  Amos  Withers  was  said  to  be  a  man 
whose  check  for  a  round  million  would  be  paid  at  sight,  and  anybody 
who  was  first-cousin  to  that  amount  of  "  sj)ot  cash"  was  worth  stopping 
to  chat  with,  even  in  the  midst  of  the  liveliest  tussle  'twixt  bull  and 
bear  on  the  floor  of  the  Chamber  of  Commerce.  A  tall,  gray-haired 
gentleman,  with  a  slight  stoop  to  his  shoulders  and  rather  tired,  anxious 
eyes,  who  listened  nervously  to  the  shouts  from  "  the  pit"  and  scanned 
eagerly  the  little  telegraphic  slips  thrust  into  his  hand  by  scurrying 
messenger-boys,  was  introduced  as  Mr.  Vincent,  and  Mr.  Vincent 
inquired  if  Noel  knew  Lieutenant — or  rather  Captain — I^ane. 

"  Know  Fred  Lane  ?  He  is  the  best  friend  I  have  in  the  world," 
was  the  enthusiastic  answer,  "and  one  of  the  best  men  that  ever  lived." 

"  Ah  !  I'm  glad  to  know  you, — glad  to  know  what  you  say.  The 
captain  is  a  constant  visitor  at  our  house,  a  great  friend  of  ours,  in  fact. 
Ah  !  excuse  me  a  moment."  And  Mr.  Vincent  seized  a  certain  well- 
known  broker  by  the  arm  and  murmured  some"  eager  inquiries  in  his 
ear,  to  which  the  other  listened  with  ill-disguised  impatience. 

Withers  and,  of  course,  "  the  captain"  were  the  centre  of  a  cordial 
— not  to  say  obsequious — group  so  long  as  they  remained  upon  the, 
floor,  and  the  secretary  presently  came  to  them  with  the  compliments 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  313 

of  the  president  and  a  card  admitting  Captain  Gordon  Noel  to  the 
floor  of  the  Ciiamber  at  any  time  during  business  hours,  which  that 
officer  most  gracefully  acknowledged  and  then  went  on  replying  to  the 
questions  of  his  new  friends  about  the  strange  regions  through  which  he 
had  scouted  and  fought,  and  the  characteristics  of  the  Indian  tribes 
with  whom  he  had  been  brought  in  contact.  And  by  the  time  Cousin 
Amos  declared  they  must  go  up  to  the  club  for  luncheon,  everybody 
was  much  impressed  by  the  hearty,  jovial  manner  of  the  dashing 
cavalryman,  and  there  were  repeated  hand-shakes,  promises  to  call,  and 
prophecies  of  a  delightful  sojourn  in  their  midst  as  he  took  his  leave. 

"Has  Captain  Lane  come  in  yet  to  lunch?"  inquired  Mr.  Withers 
of  the  liveried  attendant  at  "The  Queen  City/'  as  his  cousin  inscribed 
his  name  and  regiment  in  the  visitors'  book,  as  introduced  by  "A.  W.," 
in  ponderous  strokes  of  the  pen. 

"No,  sir.  It's  considerably  past  the  time  the  gentleman  generally 
comes.     I  don't  think  he'll  be  in  to-day,  sir." 

"  Then  we  won't  wait,  Gordon.  We'll  order  for  two.  What  wine 
do  you  like  ?" 

Over  at  the  dingy  recruiting-office  Captain  Lane  had  forgotten 
about  luncheon.  There  were  evidences  of  carelessness  on  the  part  of 
the  clerk  who  had  made  out  his  great  batch  of  papers,  and  the  further 
he  looked  the  more  he  found.  The  orderly  had  been  sent  for  Taintor, 
and  had  returned  with  the  information  that  he  was  not  at  his  desk. 
Sergeant  Burns,  when  called  upon  to  explain  how  it  happened  that  he 
allowed  him  to  slip  away,  promptly  replied  that  it  was  half-past  eleven 
when  he  came  out  of  the  captain's  office  and  said  that  the  captain 
would  want  him  all  the  afternoon,  so  he  had  best  go  and  get  his  dinner 
new.  Half-past  twelve  came,  and  he  ditl  not  return.  The  sergeant 
wei  ^  after  him,  and  came  back  in  fifteen  minutes  with  a  worried  look 
abou.  his  face  to  say  that  Taintor  had  not  been  to  dinner  at  all,  and 
that  th  door  of  the  little  room  he  occupied  was  locked.  He  had  not 
been  in  ,  'e  house  since  eio;ht  that  mornincr. 

"I'm  ,  fraid,  sir,  he's  drinkin'  again,"  said-Burns;  "but  he's  so 
sly  about  it  I  never  can  tell  until  he  is  far  gone." 

"  You  go  out  yourself,  and  send  two  of  the  men,  and  make  in- 
quiries at  all  his  customary  haunts,"  ordered  Lane.  "  I  will  stay  here 
and  go  through  all  these  papers.  None  are  right,  so  far.  He  never 
failed  me  before ;  and  I  do  not  understand  it  at  all." 

But  when  night  came  Taintor  was  still  missing, — had  not  been 
seen  nor  heard  of, — and  Captain  Lane  had  written  a  hurried  note  to 
the  lady  of  his  love  to  say  that  a  strange  and  most  untoward  case  of 
desertion  had  just  occurred  which  necessitated  his  spending  some  time 
with  the  Chief  of  Police  at  once.  He  begged  her  to  make  his  excuses 
to  her  good  mother  for  his  inability  to  come  to  dinner.  Later  in  the 
evening  he  hoped  to  see  her. 

"  P.S. — Gordon  Noel,  who  is  to  relieve  me,  has  arrived.  I  have 
only  three  or  four  days  more." 

"  Gordon  Noel !"  said  Miss  Vincent,  pensively.  "  Where  have  I 
heard  of  Gordon  Noel  ?" 


314  TWO  SOLDIERS. 


And  now  a  matter  has  to  be  recorded  which  will  go  far  to  convince 
many  of  our  readers  that  Captain  Lane  was  even  more  of  an  old- 
fashioned  prig  than  he  has  hitherto  appeared  to  be.  After  leaving  the 
Vincents'  late  on  the  previous  day,  he  had  come  to  his  rooms,  and  sat 
there  for  fully  two  hours  in  the  endeavor  to  compose  a  brief,  manly 
letter  addressed  to  Vincent  p^re.  It  was  nothing  more  nor  less  than 
the  old  style  of  addressing  a  gentleman  of  family  and  requesting  per- 
mission to  pay  his  addresses  to  his  daughter  Mabel.  A  very  difficult 
task  was  the  composition  of  this  letter  for  our  fi'ontier  soldier.  He 
was  desperately  in  earnest,  however ;  time  was  short,  and  after  several 
attempts  the  missive  was  completed.  His  first  duty  in  the  morning 
was  to  send  that  letter  by  an  orderly  to  Mr.  Vincent's  office.  Then 
he  turned  to  his  sergeant  and  asked  for  news  of  the  deserter.  Not 
a  word  had  been  heard, — not  a  single  word. 

"  I  have  been  everywhere  I  could  think  of,  sir,"  said  the  sergeant, 
"  and  both  the  men  have  been  around  his  customary  haunts  last  night 
and  this  morning  making  inquiries,  but  all  to  no  purpose.  The  detec- 
tives came  and  burst  into  his  trunk,  and  there  was  nothing  in  it  worth 
having.  He  had  been  taking  away  his  clothing,  etc.,  from  time  to  time 
in  small  packages  and  secreting  them  we  don't  where.  One  thing  I 
heard,  sir,  that  I  never  knew  before,  and  that  was  that  after  he  had 
gone  to  bed  at  night  he  would  frequently  steal  out  of  his  room  and  go 
away  and  never  reappear  until  breakfast-time  in  the  morning.  And 
now  will  the  lieutenant — the  captain  pardon  me  for  asking  the  question, 
Are  the  check-books  all  right,  sir  ?" 

"  "What  put  that  idea  into  your  head?"  asked  Lane. 

"  Well,  sir,  some  of  the  men  tell  rae  that  he  was  always  writing  at 
his  desk,  and  once  Strauss  said  that  he  had  picked  up  a  scrap  of  paper 
that  he  hadn't  completely  destroyed,  and  the  handwriting  on  it  didn't 
look  like  Taintor's  at  all ;  he  said  it  more  resembled  that  of  the  cap- 
tain ;  and  it  made  me  suspicious.  I  never  heard  this  until  late  last 
night." 

A  sudden  thought  occurred  to  Lane.  Taking  out  his  check-book, 
he  carefully  counted  the  checks  remaining  and  compared  them  with 
the  number  of  stubs,  and  found,  to  his  surprise  and  much  to  his  dis- 
may, that  at  least  five  or  six  checks  were  missing. 

"  Send  for  a  cab  at  once.  I  must  go  down  to  the  bank.  You 
stay  here,  and  when  Lieutenant  Noel  comes,  give  him  my  compliments, 
and  ask  him  to  sit  down  and  wait  awhile  and  read  the  morning  paper. 
I'll  be  back  in  a  very  short  time." 

Following  the  custom  established  by  his  predecessor,  Captain  Lane 
had  always  kept  the  recruiting-funds  in  the  First  National  Bank.  His 
own  private  funds  he  preferretl  to  keep  in  an  entirely  difierent  estab- 
lishment,— the  Merchants'  Exchange. 

The  cab  whirled  him  rapidly  to  the  building  indicated,  and, 
although  it  lacked  half  an  hour  of  the  time  of  opening,  he  made  his 
way  into  the  office  and  asked  to  see  the  paying  teller. 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  315 

"  Will  you  kindly  tell  me  if  any  checks  on  the  recruiting-fund  have 
lately  been  presented  for  payment?"  he  eagerly  asked. 

The  captain  was  referred  to  the  book-keeper,  and  that  official  called 
him  within  the  railing. 

"  No  less  than  four  checks  were  brought  here  yesterday  for  pay- 
ment, and  they  came  between  half-past  two  and  three  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,"  was  the  book-keeper's  report.  "  There  seemed  to  us  some- 
thing wrong  in  the  simultaneous  presentation  of  the  four,  and  I  was 
on  the  point  of  addressing  a  note  to  you  this  morning  to  ask  you  to 
come  down  to  the  bank.  Everything  about  it  appears  in  proper 
shape  and  form,  except  that  three  of  the  checks  have  been  endorsed 
payable  to  your  clerk,  William  Tain  tor,  who  came  in  person  and  drew 
the  money." 

"  Let  me  see  the  checks,  if  you  please,"  said  the  captain. 

They  were  speedily  produced.  Lane  took  them  to  the  window  and 
closely  examined  them. 

"  I  could  not  tell  them,"  he  said,  "  from  my  own  handwriting ; 
and  yet  those  three  checks  are  forgeries.  I  believe  that  the  endorse- 
ments on  the  back  are  equally  forgeries.  Now,  can  I  take  these  with 
me  to  the  office  of  the  Chief  of  Police?  or  do  you  desire  that  the 
detectives  should  be  sent  here?  Taintor  deserted  last  night,  and  all 
traces  have  been  lost.     What  is  the  amount  that  he  has  drawn  ?" 

"  One  cheek,  ])ayable  to  the  order  of  William  Hayden  for  board 
furnished  to  the  recruiting-party,  is  to  the  amount  of  forty-five  dollars 
and  fifty  cents.  The  second,  payable  to  James  Freeman,  and  endorsed 
by  hira  to  William  Taintor,  as  was  the  first,  is  for  rent  of  the  building 
occupied  by  the  recruiting  rendezvous,  precisely  similar  in  form  and 
amount  to  the  previous  checks,  for  the  sum  of  sixty  dollars.  The 
third  check  is  payable  to  William  Taintor  himself,  marked  *  for  extra- 
duty  pay  as  clerk  at  the  recruiting  office  for  the  past  six  months.'  The 
fourth  is  made  payable  to  the  order  of  Sergeant  James  Burns,  '  extra- 
duty  pay  as  non-commissioned  officer  in  charge  of  the  party  for  the  six 
months  beginning  January  1  and  ending  June  30.'" 

This  check,  too,  had  been  endorsed  payable  to  the  order  of  William 
Taintor.  All  four  checks,  amounting  in  all  to  the  sum  of  about  one 
hundred  and  sixty  dollars,  had  been  paid  to  the  deserting  clerk  during 
the  afternoon  of  the  previous  day. 

"  Had  you  no  suspicion  of  anything  wrong  ?"  said  Lane. 

"  I  knew  nothing  about  it,"  said  the  book-keeper.  "  They  were 
presented  to  the  paying  teller  at  the  desk,  and  it  was  not  until  after 
bank  was  closed,  when  we  came  to  balance  up  cash,  that  the  matter 
excited  comment  and  then  suspicion.  Taintor  has  frequently  come  here 
before  with  drafts  and  checks ;  and  if  you  remember,  sir,  on  one  or  two 
occasions  he  has  been  sent  for  new  check-books  when  the  old  ones  had 
run  out." 

"  That's  very  true,"  said  Lane.  "  He  has  been  employed  here  in 
this  rendezvous  for  the  last  ten  years,  and  has  borne,  up  to  within  my 
knowledge  of  him,  an  unimpeachable  character.  If  any  more  checks 
come  in,  stop  payment  on  them  until  you  see  me,  and,  if  possible, 
detain  the  person  who  presents  them." 


316  I'WO  SOLDIERS. 

Half  an  hour  afterwards  the  captain  was  back  in  his  office,  and  there, 
true  to  his  appointment,  was  Lieutenant  Noel. 

"  I  have  had  a  strange  and  unpleasant  experience,  Noel,"  said  Lane. 
"  Most  of  my  papers  have  been  faultily  made  out.  My  clerk  deserted 
last  night  and  has  turned  out  to  be  a  most  expert  forger.  He  has 
stolen  half  a  dozen  checks  from  my  book,  made  them  out  to  the  order 
of  various  parties,  forged  the  endorsements  himself,  got  the  money 
yesterday  afternoon,  and  cleared  out,  no  one  knows  where." 

"  Great  Scott,  old  man  !  that  is  hard  luck  !  How  much  has  he  let 
you  in  for?"  asked  Noel,  in  the  slang  of  the  period. 

"  Only  a  hundred  and  sixty  dollars,  fortunately ;  and  I  have  made 
that  good  this  morning, — placed  my  own  check  to  the  credit  of  the 
recruiting-fund  in  the  First  National  Bank,  so  that  in  turning  over  the 
funds  to  you  there  will  be  no  loss.  We  have  to  make  new  papers  for 
the  clothing  account ;  but  as  quickly  as  possible  I  will  have  them  ready 
for  your  signature  and  mine." 

"  There  is  no  hurry  whatever,  old  fellow,"  answered  Noel,  cheerily. 
"  I've  come  back  from  the  regiment  a  little  short  of  money,  and  I  want 
to  have  a  nest-egg  in  tlie  bank  to  begin  with.  It's  a  good  thing  to  have 
a  fat  cousin,  isn't  it?  He  has  always  been  very  liberal  and  kind  to 
me,  and,  luckily,  I've  only  drawn  on  him  twice.     So  I'll  hurry  along." 

Five  minutes  after  Noel  left,  a  district  messenger  entered  with  a 
note  for  Captain  Lane.  It  was  addressed  to  him  in  the  handwriting 
of  Mr.  Vincent.  He  opened  it  with  a  trembling  hand.  It  contained 
merely  these  words : 

"  I  am  obliged  to  leave  for  New  York  this  afternoon.  Can  you 
come  to  my  office  at  one  o'clock?  We  can  then  talk  without  interrup- 
tion ;  and  I  much  desire  to  see  you. 

"  T.  L.  y." 

As  the  big  bell  on  the  city  hall  had  struck  one,  Captain  Lane  ap- 
peared at  the  office  of  Vincent,  Clark  &  Co.,  and  was  shown  without 
delay  into  the  private  room  of  the  senior  partner.  Mr.  Vincent,  look- 
ing even  older  and  grayer  in  the  wan  light  at  the  rear  of  the  massive 
building,  was  seated  at  his  desk  and  busily  occupied  with  a  book  of 
memoranda  and  figures.  Pie  ])ushed  back  his  chair  and  came  for- 
ward at  once  at  sight  of  Lane,  and  motioned  to  the  clerk  to  retire.  The 
cavalryman's  heart  was  beating  harder  then  he  had  any  recollection  of 
its  ever  doing  before,  except  in  her  presence,  and  he  felt  that  his  knees 
were  trembling.  But  the  old  gentleman's  greeting  gave  him  instant 
hope : 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  come,  my  dear  sir :  I  am  glad  to  know  a 
man  who  has  been  taught  as  I  was  taught.  Young  people  nowadays 
seem  to  rush  into  matrimony  without  the  faintest  reference  to  their 
parents,  and  your  letter  was  a  surprise  to  me, — a  surprise,  that  is,  in 
the  fact  that  you  should  have  sought  my  permission  at  all. 

"  Take  this  chair,  captain,"  he  continued,  as  he  returned  to  his  desk. 
"  I  have  much  to  say  to  you,"  he  added,  with  a  sigh.  "  Let  me  say 
at  once  tliat  from  what  I  know  and  have  heard  of  you  there  is  no  man 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  317 

of  my  acquaintance  to  whom  I  could  intrust  my  daughter's  future  with 
more  implicit  confidence.  It  is  true  that  both  her  mother  and  I  had  at 
one  time  other  hopes  and  views  for  her,  and  that  we  wish  your  profes- 
sion was  not  that  of  arms.  And  now  I  beg  you  to  be  patient  with  me, 
and  to  pardon  my  alluding  to  matters  which  you  yourself  broach  in  this 
— this  most  manful  letter.  You  tell  me  that  you  are  not  dependent  on 
your  pay  alone,  but  that  from  investments  in  real  estate  in  growing 
cities  in  the  West  and  in  mines  in  New  Mexico  your  present  income 
is  some  five  thousand  dollars.  As  I  understand  you,  the  property  is 
steadily  increasing  in  value  ?" 

"It  has  steadily  increased  thus  far,  sir,  and  I  think  it  will  continue 
to  do  so  for  several  years  to  come, — in  the  real  estate  investments  at 
least." 

"I  am  glad  of  this,  on  your  account  as  well  as  hers,  for  Mabel  has 
been  reared  in  comparative  luxury.  She  has  never  known  what  it  was 
to  want  anything  very  much  or  very  long.  She  has  been  educated 
on  the  supposition  that  her  whole  life  would  be  one  equally  free  from 
care  or  stint;  and  if  I  were  to  die  to-morrow,  sir,  she  would  be  a 
beggar." 

And  here,  in  great  agitation,  the  old  gentleman  rose  from  his  chair 
and  began  nervously  pacing  up  and  down  the  little  room,  wringing  Jiis 
white,  tremulous  hands,  and  turning  his  face  away  from  the  silent 
soldier,  that  he  might  not  see  the  tears  that  hung  to  the  lashes,  or  the 
piteous  quivering  of  the  sensitive  lips.  For  a  moment  or  two  nothing 
more  was  said.  Then,  as  though  in  surprise,  Mr.  Vincent  stopped  short. 
"Did  you  understand  me,  Captain  Lane?  I  do  not  exaggerate 
the  situation  in  the  least.  I  do  not  know  how  soon  the  axe  will  fall. 
We  are  safe  for  to-day,  but  know  not  what  the  morrow  may  bring  forth. 
I  may  be  met  en  route  by  telegrams  saying  that  the  journey  is  useless, — 
that  we  are  ruined, — and  the  money  I  hope  to  get  in  New  York  to  tide 
us  over  would  come  only  too  late.  Next  month  at  this  time  the  house 
in  which  Mabel  was  born  and  reared  may  be  sold  over  her  head,  with 
every  scrap  and  atom  of  its  furniture,  and  we  bo  driven  into  exile. 
Do  you  realize  this,  sir?  Do  you  understand  that  if  you  win  her  atfec- 
tion  and  she  become  your  wife  I  have  not  a  penny  with  which  to  bless 
her?" 

"  Mr.  Vincent,"  answered  Lane,  "  I  would  hold  myself  richer  than 
any  man  in  this  world  if  I  could  know  that  your  daughter  cared  for  me 
and  would  be  my  wife.  Do  not  think  that  I  fail  to  sympathize  and 
feel  for  you  and  all  who  are  dear  to  you  in  your  distress  and  anxiety, 
but  I  am  almost  glad  to  hear  that  she  is  not  the  heiress  people  said 
she  was.  It  is  Mabel  I  want,"^ — and  here  his  voice  trembled  almost  as 
much  as  the  old  man's,  and  his  honest  gray  eyes  filled  up  with  tears 
he  could  not  down, — "and  with  her  for  my  own  I  could  ask  nothing 
of  any  man.  I  have  your  consent  to  see  her,  then,  at  once  if  need  be? 
You  know  I  am  reliev^ed  from  duty  here  and  must  rejoin  my  regiment 
within  ten  days." 

"  My  full  consent,  and  my  best  wishes,  captain,"  said  Mr.  Vincent, 
grasping  the  outstretched  hand  in  both  his  own."  "  You  have  not 
spoken  to  her  at  all  ?" 


81g  TWO  SOLDIERS. 

"  Not  a  word,  Mr.  Vincent ;  and  I  can  form  no  idea  what  her 
answer  will  be.  Pardon  me,  sir,  but  has  she  or  has  Mrs.  Vincent  any 
knowledge  of  your  business  troubles  f 

"  My  wife  knows,  of  course,  that  everything  is  going  wrong  and 
that  I  am  desperately  harassed ;  Mabel,  too,  knows  that  I  have  lost 
much  money — very  much — in  the  last  two  years ;  but  neither  of  them 
knows  the  real  truth, — that  even  my  life-insurance  is  gone.  A  year 
ago  I  strove  to  obtain  additional  amounts  in  the  three  companies  in 
which  I  had  taken  out  policies  years  ago.  Of  course  a  rigid  examina- 
tion had  to  be  made  by  the  medical  advisers,  and  the  result  was  the 
total  rejection  of  my  applications,  and  in  two  cases  an  offer  to  return 
with  interest  all  the  premiums  hitherto  paid.  The  physicians  had  all 
discovered  serious  trouble  with  my  heart.  Last  winter  our  business 
was  at  its  lowest  ebb.  I  had  been  fortunate  in  some  speculations  on 
'Change  in  the  past,  and  I  strove  to  restore  our  failing  fortunes  in  that 
way.  My  margins  were  swept  away  like  chaff,  and  I  have  been  vainly 
striving  to  regain  them  for  the  last  three  months,  until  now  the  last 
cent  that  I  could  raise  is  waiting  the  result  of  this  week's  deal.  Every 
man  in  all  the  great  markets  East  and  West  knew  three  weeks  ago  that 
a  powerful  and  wealthy  syndicate  had  '  cornered,'  as  we  say,  all  the 
wheat  to  be  had,  and  was  forcing  the  price  up  day  by  day;  and  I 
had  started  in  on  the  wrong  side.  Even  if  the  corner  were  to  break 
to-morrow  I  could  not  recover  half  my  losses.  The  offer  the  insurance 
companies  made  was  eagerly  accepted,  sir :  I  took  their  money,  and  it 
dribbled  away  through  my  broker's  fingers.  If  wheat  goes  up  one 
cent,  we  cannot  meet  our  obligations, — we  are  gone.  We  have  been 
compelled  to  borrow  at  ruinous  rates  in  order  to  meet  our  calls  :  I  say 
we,  for  poor  Clark  is  with  me  in  the  deal,  and  it  means  ruin  for  him 
too,  though  he,  luckily,  has  neither  wife  nor  child.  Are  you  ready, 
sir,  to  ally  your  name  with  that  of  a  ruined  and  broken  man, — to 
wed  a  beggar's  daughter?"  And  here  poor  old  Vincent  fairly  broke 
down  and  sobbed  aloud.  Long  watching,  sleepless  nights,  suspense, 
wretched  anxiety,  the  averted  looks  and  whispered  comments  of  the 
men  he  daily  met  on  'Change,  the  increasing  brusqueness  and  insolence 
of  his  broker.  Warden, — all  had  combined  to  humiliate  and  crush  him. 
He  threw  himself  upon  the  sofa,  his  worn  old  frame  shaking  and 
quivering  with  grief.  The  sight  was  too  much  for  Lane.  This  was 
/ler  father :  it  was  her  home  that  was  threatened,  her  name  that  was 
in  jeopardy. 

"  Mr.  Vincent,"  he  cried,  almost  imploringly,  "  I  cannot  tell  you 
how  utterly  my  sympathy  is  with  you  in  your  anxiety  and  distress.  I 
beg  you  not  to  give  way, — not  to  abandon  hope.  I — I  think  it  may 
be  in  my  power  to  help  a  little ;  only — it  must  be  a  secret  between  us. 
She — Mabel  must  never  know." 

VL 

In  the  three  days  that  followed,  the  transfer  of  funds  and  property 
at  the  recruiting  rendezvous  took  place,  and  Mr.  Noel  stepped  in,  vice 
Lane,  relieved  and  ordered  to  join  his  regiment.  The  former  was 
having  a  delightful  time.     A  guest  of  the  wealthy  Witherses  could  not 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  310 

long  be  a  stranger  within  their  gates  to  the  Queen  citizens,  and  every 
afternoon  and  evening  found  him  enjoying  hospitalities  of  the  most  cor- 
dial character.  At  the  club  he  had  already  become  hail-fellow  with  all 
the  younger  element  and  had  made  himself  decidedly  popular  among 
the  elders,  and  every  man  who  had  not  met  that  jolly  Captain  Noel  was 
eager  to  be  presented  to  him.  He  was  ready  for  pool,  billiards,  bowl- 
ing, or  a  drink  the  moment  he  got  within  the  stately  door-way ;  and, 
as  he  sang,  whistled,  laughed,  chatted,  and  cracked  innumerable  jokes 
during  the  various  games,  was  a  capital  mimic,  and  could  personate  Pat, 
Hans,  or  Crapaud  with  telling  effect,  his  presence  was  pronounced  by 
every  one  as  better  than  a  solid  week  of  sunshine, — something  the 
Queen  City  rarely,  if  ever,  experienced. 

Poor  Lane,  on  the  contrary,  was  nearly  worrying  his  heart  out. 
He  had  gone  to  the  Vincents'  the  very  evening  on  which  he  had  seen 
the  father  of  the  family  off  for  New  York,  and  had  nerved  himself  to 
put  his  fortune  to  the  test, — to  tell  her  of  his  deep  and  devoted  love 
and  to  ask  her  to  be  his  wife.  That  she  well  knew  he  loved  her,  with- 
out being  told,  he  felt  sure  must  be  the  case ;  but,  beyond  a  belief  that 
she  ^ked  and  trusted  him,  the  captain  had  not  the  faintest  idea  as  to 
the  nature  of  her  feelings  towards  him.  He  was  a  modest  fellow,  as 
has  been  said.  His  glass  told  him  that,  despite  a  pair  of  clear  gray 
eyes  and  a  decidedly  soldierly  cut  to  his  features,  he  was  not  what 
women  called  a  handsome  man ;  and,  what  was  more,  tiiere  were  little 
strands  of  gray  just  beginning  to  show  about  his  broad  forehead  and 
in  the  heavy  moustache  that  shaded  his  mouth.  Lane  sighed  as  he 
remembered  that  he  was  in  his  thirty-sixth  year.  How  could  she  care 
for  him, — fifteen  years  her  senior?  Lane  rang  the  door-bell  that  night 
and  felt  once  more  that  his  heart  w'as  beating  even  as  it  did  at  one 
o'clock  when  he  was  ushered  into  the  awful  presence  of  her  father. 

"  Miss  Vincent  has  not  left  her  room  to-day,  and  is  not  well  enough 
to  come  down  to-night,  sir,"  said  the  servant  who  came  to  the  door, 
"and  Mrs.  Vincent  begged  to  be  excused  because  of  Miss  Mabel's 
needing  her." 

"  I — I  am  very,  very  sorry,"  stammered  the  captain.  "  Please  say 
that  Mr.  Lane  called"  (they  had  known  him  so  well  for  two  months 
as  Mr.  Lane  that  he  could  not  yet  refer  to  himself  by  his  new  title), 
"and — and  would  call  again  to-morrow,  hoping  to  hear  Miss  Vincent 
was  much  better." 

And  then,  dejected  and  miserable,  and  yet  with  something  akin  to 
the  feeling  one  experiences  when  going  to  a  dentist's  to  have  a  tooth 
drawn  and  the  dreaded  wielder  of  the  forceps  proves  to  be  away.  Lane 
retreated  down  the  broad  stone  steps  until  he  reached  the  walk,  gazed 
up  at  the  dim  light  in  the  window  which  he  thought  might  be  hers, 
anathematized  himself  for  his  lack  of  self-possession  in  not  having  asked 
whether  there  wasn't  something  he  could  bring  lier, — something  she 
would  like, — for  the  simple-hearted  fellow  would  have  tramped  all 
night  all  over  town  to  find  and  fetch  it, — and  theu  a  happy  thought 
occurred  to  him  :  "  Women  always  love  flowers."  He  ran  to  the  next 
street,  boarded  a  west-bound  car,  and  was  soon  far  down  town  at  his 
favorite  florist's. 


320  TWO  SOLDIERS. 

"  Give  me  a  big  box  of  cut  flowers, — the  handsomest  you  have," 
he  said  ;  aud  while  they  were  being  prepared  he  wrote  a  few  lines  on 
a  card,  tore  it  up,  tried  again  on  another,  and  similarly  reduced  that 
to  fragments,  and  finally,  though  far  from  content,  Ihnited  the  expression 
of  his  emotions  to  the  simple  words, — 

"  Do  get  well  by  Saturday  at  latest.  I  cannot  go  without  seeing 
you.  F.  L." 

"  Where  shall  we  send  them,  sir  ?"  asked  the  florist,  as  he  came 
forward  with  the  box  in  his  hand. 

"  Never  mind  :  I'll  take  it  myself,"  was  the  answer,  as  the  captain 
popped  in  the  little  missive. 

And  when  he  got  back  to  the  house  the  light  was  still  burning  in 
the  window  in  tlie  second  story,  and  the  doctor  had  just  left,  said  the 
sympathetic  Abigail,  and  had  said  that  it  was  nothing  serious  or  alarm- 
ing :  Miss  Mabel  would  have  to  keep  quiet  a  day  or  two ;  that  was  all. 

But  what  hard  luck  for  poor  Lane,  when  the  days  of  his  stay  were 
so  very  few !  All  Thursday  morning  was  spent  at  the  rendezvous, 
counting  over  property  and  comparing  papers  with  Noel.  Then,  while 
tliat  gentleman  went  to  the  club  for  luncheon  the  captain  hastened  to 
the  Vincents'  door  to  renew  inquiries,  and  was  mcasu)ably  comforted 
by  the  news  that  Miss  Mabel  was  much  better,  though  still  confined  to 
her  room.  Would  he  not  come  in  ?  Mrs.  Vincent  was  out,  but  she 
thought — did  that  most  intelh'gent  young  woman,  Mary  Ann — that 
perhaps  there  was  a  ipessage  for  him.  Like  Mr.  Toots,  poor  Lane,  in 
his  anxiety  to  put  no  one  to  any  trouble,  came  within  an  ace  of  stam- 
mering, "It's  of  no  consequence,"  but  checked  himself  in  time,  and 
stepped  into  the  bright  parlor  in  which  he  had  spent  so  many  delicious 
hours  listening  to  her  soft  rich  voice  as  she  sang,  or  as  she  chatted 
blithely  with  him  and  her  frequent  guests.  It  was  some  time  before 
Mary  Ann  returned.  Evidently,  there  was  a  message,  for  the  girl's 
face  was  dimpled  with  smiles  as  she  handed  him  a  little  note.  "Miss 
Mabel  says  please  excuse  pencil,  sir ;  she  had  to  write  lying  down. 
Miss  Holton  has  just  gone  away,  after  spending  most  of  the  morning." 

Excuse  pencil !  Lane  could  hardly  wait  to  read  the  precious  lines. 
How  he  longed  to  give  the  girl  a  five-dollar  bill !  but  this  wasn't 
England,  and  he  did  not  know  how  Mary  Ann  would  regard  such  a 
proifer.  She  promptly  and  discreetly  retired,  leaving  the  front  door 
open  for  his  exit,  and  the  sweet  June  sunshine  and  the  soft  warm 
breath  of  early  summer  flowing  in  through  the  broad  vestibule. 

"  How  good  you  are  to  me  !"  she  wrote.  "  The  flowers  were — and 
are  still — exquisite.  I  shall  be  down-stairs  a  little  while  to-morrow 
afternoon,  if  the  doctor  is  good  to  me  as  you  are.  Then  I  can  thank 
you,  can  I  not  ?  ^  M.  L.  V." 

The  hours  dragged  until  Friday  afternoon  came.  He  had  to  go  to 
the  Witherses'  to  dinner  on  Thursday  evening,  and  a  dreary,  ostenta- 
tious, ponderous  feast  it  was.  Noel,  in  his  full-dress  uniform,  was  the 
hero  of  the  hour.     He  greeted  Lane  a  trifle  nervously. 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  321 

"  I  meant  to  have  teleplioned  and  begged  you  to  bear  me  out,  old 
man,"  said  he,  "  but  this  thing  was  sprung  on  me  after  I  got  home. 
Cousin  Mattie  simply  ordered  me  to  appear  in  my  war-paint,  and  I  had 
to  do  it.  You  are  to  go  in  to  dinner  with  her,  by  the  way  ;  and  I  wish 
you  were  en  grande  tenue  instead  of  civilian  spike-tail.     Here's  Amos." 

And  Amos  marched  him  around  to  one  guest  after  another, — "self- 
made  men,  sir," — heavy  manufacturers  and  money-makers,  with  their 
overdressed  wives.  Lane  strove  hard  to  be  entertaining  to  his  hostess, 
but  that  lady's  mind  was  totally  engrossed  in  the  progress  of  the 
feast  and  dread  of  possible  catastrophe  to  style  or  service.  Her  eyes 
glanced  nervously  from  her  husband  to  the  butler  and  his  assistants, 
and  her  lips  perpetually  framed  inaudible  instructions  or  warnings, 
and  so  it  happened  that  the  captain  was  enabled  to  chat  a  good  deal 
with  a  slight,  dark-eyed,  and  decidedly  intelligent  girl  who  sat  to  his 
right  and  who  was  totally  ignored  by  the  young  cub  who  took  her  in, 
— the  eldest  son  of  the  house  of  Withers,  a  callow  youth  of  twenty. 

"  You  did  not  hear  my  name,  I  know,"  she  had  said  to  him.  "  I  am 
Miss  Marshall,  a  very  distant  connection  of  Mrs.  Withers's,  the  teacher 
of  her  younger  children,  and  the  merest  kind  of  an  accident  at  this 
table.  Miss  Faulkner  was  c(»rapelled  to  send  her  excuses  at  the  last 
moment,  and  so  I  was  detailed — isn't  that  your  soldier  expression  ? — 
to  fill  the  gap." 

"  And  where  did  you  learn  our  army  expressions,  may  I  ask  ?" 
said  Lane,  smilingly. 

"  I  had  a  cousin  in  the  artillery  some  years  ago,  and  visited  his 
wife  when  they  were  stationed  at  the  old  barracks  across  the  river. 
There's  no  one  tiiere  now,  I  believe.  Listen  to  Captain  Noel  :  he  is 
telling  about  Indian  campaigns." 

Indeed,  pretty  much  everybody  was  listening  already,  for  Noel,  with 
much  animation,  was  recounting  the  experiences  of  the  chase  after  the 
Chiricahua  chieftain  Geronimo.  He  was  an  excellent  talker,  and  most 
diplomatic  and  skiJful  in  the  avoidance  of  any  direct  reference  to  him- 
self as  the  hero  of  the  series  of  dramatic  incidents  which  he  so  graphically 
told,  and  yet  the  impression  conveyed — and  intended  to  be  conveyed — 
was  that  no  man  had  seen  more,  endured  more,  or  ridden  harder,  faster, 
and  farther,  than  the  narrator.  Flattered  by  the  evident  interest  shown 
by  those  about  him,  and  noting  that  conversation  was  brisk  at  Lane's 
end  of  the  table,  the  lieutenant  soon  lost  himself  in  the  enthusiasm  of 
his  own  descriptions,  and  was  only  suddenly  recalled  to  earth  by  noting 
that  now  the  whole  table  had  ceased  its  diiuier-chat,  and  that,  with  the 
possible  exception  of  the  hostess,  who  was  telegraphing  signals  to  the 
butler,  every  man  and  woman  present  was  looking  at  him  and  ILstening. 
The  color  leaped  to  his  face,  and  he  turned  towards  Lane  with  a 
nervous  laugh. 

"  I'd  no  idea  I  was  monopolizing  the  talk,"  he  said.  "  Fred,  old 
man,  wasn't  it  G  Troop  that  tried  to  get  across  the  range  from  your 
command  to  ours  when  we  neared  the  Guadalupe  ?  Amos  and  Mr. 
Hawks  had  been  asking  me  about  the  chase  after  Geronimo." 

"  Yes ;  it  was  G  Troop, — Captain  Greene's,"  answered  Lane. 

"  You  know  that  Captain  Lane  and  I  are  of  the  same  regiment, 


322  '^WO  SOLDIERS. 

and,  though  not  actually  together  in  the  chase,  we  were  in  the  same 
campaign/'  said  Noel,  apologetically,  and  then,  quickly  changing  the 
subject,  "  By  the  way,  Mr.  Hawks,  is  Harry  Hawks  of  the  artillery 
a  relative  of  yours  ?" 

"  A  nephew,  captain, — my  brother  Henry's  son.  Did  you  know 
him  ?" 

"  Know  him  ?  Why,  he  is  one  of  the  warmest  friends  I  have  in 
the  whole  array, — outside  of  my  own  regiment,  that  is.  We  were  con- 
stantly together  one  winter  when  I  was  on  staff  duty  in  Washington, 
and  whenever  he  could  get  leave  to  run  up  from  the  barracks  he  made 
my  quarters  his  home.  If  you  ever  write  to  him  just  ask  him  if  he 
knows  Gordon  Noel." 

"  Do  you  know.  Captain  Lane,  that  I  have  found  your  comrade 
captain  a  very  interesting  man  ?"  observed  Miss  Marshall ;  and  her 
eyes  turned  upon  her  next-door  neighbor  in  calm  but  keen  scrutiny. 

"  Noel  is  very  entertaining,"  was  the  reply  ;  and  the  dark-gray  eyes 
looked  unflinchingly  into  the  challenge  of  the  dark-brown. 

"Yes,  I  have  listened  to  his  tales  of  the  frontier,  at  breakfast, 
dinner,  and  during  the  evening  hours,  since  Sunday  last.  They  are 
full  of  vivacity  and  variety." 

"  One  sees  a  good  deal  of  strange  country  and  many  strange  people 
in  the  course  of  ten  or  a  dozen  years'  service  in  the  cavalry." 

"And  must  needs  have  a  good  memory  to  be  able  to  tell  of  it  all, — 
especially  when  one  recounts  the  same  incident  more  than  once."  And 
Miss  Marshall's  lips  were  twitching  at  the  corners  in  a  manner. sug- 
gestive of  mischief  and  merriment  combined.         * 

Lane  "  paused  for  a  reply."  Here  was  evidently  a  most  observant 
young  woman. 

"  There !  I  did  not  mean  to  tax  your  loyalty  to  a  regimental  com- 
rade, captain  :  so  you  need  not  answer.  Captain  Noel  interests  and 
entertains  me  principally  because  of  his  intense  individuality  and  his 
entire  conviction  that  he  carries  his  listeners  with  him.  '  Age  cannot 
wither  nor  custom  stale  his  infinite  variety ;'  but  there  should  not  be 
quite  so  much  variety  in  his  descriptions  of  a  single  event.  This  is 
the  fourth  time  I  have  heard  him  tell  of  the  night-ride  from  Carrlzo's 
Ranch  to  Canon  Diablo." 

"  You  have  the  advantage  of  me.  Miss  Marshall,"  answered  I^ane, 
his  eyes  twinkling  with  appreciation  of  her  demure  but  droll  exposure 
of  Noel's  weak  point.  "  It  is  the  first  time  I  ever  heard  his  version 
of  it." 

"It  is  the  last  time  he  will  mention  it  in  your  presence,  if  he  saw 
the  expression  in  your  face,  Captain  Lane." 

"  Do  those  introspective  eyes  of  yours  look  clear  through  and  see 
out  of  the  back  of  your  head,  Miss  Marshall  ?  Your  face  was  turned 
towards  him.  You  stopped  short  in  telling  me  of  your  cousin  in  the 
artillery  and  your  visit  to  the  barracks,  and  bade  me  listen  to  some- 
thing I  did  not  care  half  as  much  to  hear  as  your  own  impressions  of 
garrison-life.  Never  mind  the  quadruplex  account  of  the  night-ride. 
Tell  me  what  you  thought  of  the  army." 

"  Well,  of  course  the  first  thing  a  girl  wants  to  know  is  what  the 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  323 

shoulder-straps  mean  ;  and  I  learned  the  very  first  day  that  the  blank 
strap  meant  a  second  lieutenant,  a  single  silver  bar  a  first  lieutenant, 
and  two  bars  a  captain, — that  is,  in  the  artillery.  Now,  why  this  pro- 
voking distinction  in  the  cavalry?  Here's  a  captain  with  only  one  bar, 
a  captain  whose  letters  from  the  War  Department  come  addressed  to 
Lieutenant  Gordon  Noel !" 

"  Noel  never  speaks  of  himself  as  captain,  I'm  sure,"  said  Lane. 

"  Neither  do  you ;  and  for  a  year  past,  ever  since  I  have  known 
you  by  sight," — and  here  a  quick  blush  mounted  to  her  temples, — "  you 
occasionally  came  to  our  church,  you  know,"  she  hastened  to  explain, — 
"  you  have  been  referred  to  as  Lieutenant  Lane  or  Mr.  Lane ;  but  we 
know  you  are  a  captain  now,  for  we  saw  the  promotion  recorded  in  the 
Washington  despatches  a  fortnight  ago.  What  was  the  date  of  Captain 
Noel's  elevation  to  that  grade?  I  confess  I  took  him  for  your  junior 
in  the  service  and  in  years  too." 

"Yes,  Noel  holds  well  on  to  his  youth,"  answered  Lane,  smilingly. 

"  And  about  the  captaincy  ?" 

"Well,  he  is  so  very  near  it,  and  it  is  so  apt  to  come  any  day,  that 
perhaps  he  thinks  it  just  as  well  to  let  people  get  accustomed  to  calling 
him  that.  Then  he  won't  have  to  break  them  all  in  when  the  com- 
mission does  come." 

"Then  he  is  your  junior,  of  course?" 

"  Only  by  a  file  or  so.     He  entered  service  very  soon  after  me." 

"  But  was  not  in  your  class  at  West  Point?" 

"  No  :  he  was  not  in  my  class." 

"In  the  next  one,  then,  I  presume?" 

"Miss  Marshall,  is  your  first  name  Portia?  I  should  hate  to  be  a 
witness  whom  you  had  the  privilege  of  cross-examining.  Tlicre  are 
ladies  'learned  in  the  law,'  and  I  expect  to  read  of  you  as  called  to  the 
bar  within  a  year  or  two." 

"  Never  mind.  Captain  Lane.  I  will  ask  you  nothing  more  about 
him." 

"No,  Miss  Marshall,  I  presume  that  my  clumsiness  has  rendere<I 
it  totally  unnecessary." 

That  night,  as  the  guests  were  dispersing.  Lane  did  what  most 
of  them  entirely  omitted :  he  went  over  to  the  piano  and  bade  Miss 
Marshall  good-night. 

"Captain  Lane,"  she  said,  "I  beg  your  pardon  if  I  have  been  too 
inquisitive  and  too  critical,  as  I  know  I  have  been ;  but  you  have 
taught  me,  that  you  know  how  to  guard  a  comrade's  failings  from  the 
world.     Will  you  not  forgive  a  woman's  weakness  ?" 

"  There  is  nothing  to  forgive,  Miss  Marshall.  I  hope  sincerely 
that  we  may  meet  again  before  I  go  back  to  the  regiment." 

And  later,  as  Lane  was  walking  homeward  from  a  final  peep  at  the 
dim  light  in  a  certain  window,  he  had  time  to  think  how  intolerable 
that  dinner  would  have  seemed  had  it  not  been  for  the  accident  which 
placed  that  dark -eyed  governess  by  his  side. 


324  ^^O  SOLDIERS. 


VTI. 

Lane  was  awake  with  the  sun  on  Friday  morning,  and  lay  for  a 
few  moments  listening  to  the  twittering  of  the  sparrows  about  his 
window-sills,  and  watching  the  slanting,  rosy-red  shafts  of  light  that 
streamed  through  the  intervals  in  the  Venetian  blinds.  "Does  it  augur 
bright  fortune?  Does  it  mean  victory?  Is  it  like  the  'sun  of  Aus- 
terlitz'  ?"  were  the  questions  that  crowded  through  his  brain.  To-day — 
to-day  she  was  to  "  be  down  for  a  little  while  in  the  afternoon,"  and 
then  she  "hoped  to  be  able  to  thank  him.  Could  she?"  Ten  thou- 
sand times  over  and  over  again  she  could,  if  she  would  but  whisper  one 
little  word — Yes — in  answer  to  his  eager  question.  It  lacked  hours 
yet  until  that  longed-for  afternoon  could  come.  It  was  not  five  o'clock  ; 
but  more  sleep  was  out  of  the  question,  and  lying  there  in  bed  intoler- 
able. Much  to  the  surprise  of  his  darky  valet.  Lane  had  had  his  bath, 
dressed,  and  disappeared  by  the  time  the  former  came  to  rouse  him. 

Noel  was  late  in  reaching  the  rendezvous.  It  was  after  ten  when 
he  appeared,  explaining  that  Mrs.  Withers  was  far  from  well,  and 
therefore  Cousin  Amos  would  not  leave  the  house  until  the  doctor  had 
seen  her  and  made  his  report.  Lane  received  his  explanation  some- 
what coldly,  and  suggested  that  they  go  right  to  work  with  their 
papers,  as  he  had  important  engagements.  It  was  high  noon  when 
they  finished  the  matters  in  hand,  and  then  the  captain  hastened  to  the 
club,  and  was  handed  a  telegram  with  the  information  that  it  had  only 
just  come.  It  was  evidently  expected.  Lane  quickly  read  it  and  care- 
fully stowed  it  away  in  an  inside  pocket.  In  another  moment  he  was 
speeding  down  town,  and  by  half-past  twelve  was  closeted  with  the 
junior  partner  of  the  tottering  house  of  Vincent,  Clark  &  Co.  Mr. 
Clark  was  pale  and  nervous  ;  every  click  of  the  "  ticker"  seemed  to 
make  him  start.  A  clerk  stood  at  the  instrument,  watching  the  rapidly- 
dotted  quotations. 

"  Have  you  heard  from  Mr.  Vincent  ?"  was  the  first  question ;  and, 
without  a  word,  a  telegram  was  handed  him.  It  was  in  cipher,  as  he 
saw  at  once,  and  Clark  supplied  the  transcription  : 

"  Rossiter  refuses.  Watch  market  closely.  See  Warden  instant 
touches  half.     Break  predicted  here." 

"  Twenty  minutes  more  !"  groaned  Clark,  as  he  buried  his  face  in 
his  hands.     "  Twenty  minutxss  more  of  this  awful  suspense  !" 

"  What  was  the  last  report?"  asked  Lane,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Ninety-eight  and  a  quarter.  My  God  !  Think  of  it  !  Three- 
quarters  of  a  cent  between  us  and  beggary  !  I  could  bear  it,  but  not 
Vincent :  'twould  kill  him.     Even  his  home  is  mortgaged." 

There  came  a  quick,  sharp  tap  at  the  glazed  door  :  the  clerk's  head 
was  thrust  in  : 

"  Three-eighths,  sir." 

"  It's  time  to  move,  then,"  said  Lane.  "  I  cannot  follow  you  to 
the  floor, — I  have  no  ticket ;  but  I  will  be  awaiting  your  call  at  the 

Merchants'  Exchange.     Mr.  Vincent  has  told  you Better  have  it 

in  Treasury  notes, — one  hundred  each, — had  you  not  ?" 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  325 

"  Fll  see  Warden  at  once.  D — n  him  !  he  would  sell  us  out  with 
no  more  compunctions  than  he  would  shoot  a  liawk." 

"  You  infer  that  Mr.  Vincent  has  had  no  success  in  raising  money 
in  New  York  ?"  asked  Lane,  as  they  hurried  from  the  office. 

"  Not  an  atom  1  He  made  old  Rossiter  what  he  is, — hauled  him 
out  of  the  depths,  set  him  on  his  feet,  took  him  in  here  with  him  for 
ten  years,  sent  him  East  with  a  fortune  that  he  has  trebled  since  in 
Wall  Street,  and  row,  by  heaven  !  the  cold-blooded  brute  will  not  lend 
him  a  pitiful  twenty  thousand." 

At  the  bank  Lane  found  an  unusual  number  of  men,  and  there 
was  an  air  of  suppressed  excitement.  Telegraph-boys  would  rush  in 
every  now  and  then  with  despatches  for  various  parties,  and  these  were 
eagerly  opened  and  read.  Scraps  of  low,  earnest  conversation  reached 
him  as  he  stood,  a  silent  watcher.  "  They  cannot  stand  it  another  day." 
"  They've  been  raining  wheat  on  them  from  every  corner  of  the  North 
and  West.  No  gang  can  stand  up  under  it."  '*  It's  bound  to  break," 
etc.  To  an  official  of  the  bank  who  knew  him  well  he  showed  the 
telegram  he  had  received  at  the  club,  and  the  gentleman  looked  up  in 
surprise : 

"  Do  you  want  this  now,  captain  ?     Surely  you  are  not " 

"No,  I'm  not,  most  emphatically,"  replied  Lane,  with  a  quiet 
laugh.  "  Yet  I  may  have  sudden  use  for  that  sum.  I  telegraphed  to 
my  agents  at  Cheyenne  yesterday.  You,  perhaps,  ought  to  wire  at 
once  and  verify  it." 

"  Those  are  our  bank  rules,  and  I  presume  it  will  be  done ;  though 
of  course  we  know " 

"  Never  mind.  I  much  prefer  you  should,  and  at  once."  And, 
leaving  the  man  of  business  to  attend  to  the  necessary  formality.  Lane 
strolled  to  a  window  and  looked  down  the  crowded  street  towards  the 
massive  building  in  which  the  desperate  grapple  'twixt  bull  and  bear 
was  at  its  height.  The  day  was  hot;  men  rushed  by,  mopping  their 
fevered  brows ;  a  throng  of  people  had  gathered  near  the  broad  en- 
trance to  the  Chamber,  and  all  its  windows  were  lowered  to  secure  free 
and  fresh  currents  of  air.  Lane  fancied  lie  could  hear  the  shouts  of 
the  combatants  in  the  pit  even  above  the  ceaseless  roar  and  rattle  of 
wheels  upon  the  stone  pavement.  Little  by  little  the  minute-hand  was 
stealing  to  the  vertical,  and  still  no  sign  from  Clark.  "  Has  she  touchal 
a  half  yet  ?"  he  heard  one  man  eagerly  ask  another  as  they  dived  into 
the  broker's  office  underneath. 

"Not  yet;  but  I'm  betting  she  does  inside  of  five  minutes  and 
reaches  ninety-nine  first  thing  to-morrow." 

At  last,  boom  went  the  great  bell, — a  single,  solemn  stroke. 
There  was  a  rush  of  men  for  the  street,  a  general  scurry  towards  the 
great  Board  of  Trade  building,  a  rapidly-increasing  crowd  along  the 
curb-stones  as  the  members  came  pouring  out,  and  brokers  and  their 
customers  hurried  away  towards  numberless  little  offices  all  over  the 
neighborhood.  Dozens  of  them  passed  along  under  his  post  of  obser- 
vation, some  flushed,  some  deathly  pale,  and  finally  Clark  himself  ap- 
peared, and  Lane  hastened  forth  to  meet  him. 

"Saved  by  a  mere  squeak  so  far,"  was  the  almost  breathless  whisper 
Vol.  XLV.— 22 


326  ^^0  SOLDIERS. 

as  Clark  removed  his  hat  and  wiped  his  clammy  forehead.  "  But  we 
know  not  what  a  day  may  bring  forth.     It's  a  mere  respite." 

"Can  the  syndicate  carry  any  more  weight,  think  you?  Prices 
jumped  up  two  and  three  weeks  ago.  Now  they  only  climb  a  hair's- 
breadth  at  a  time,  I  hear  they  are  loaded  down, — that  it  miist  break ; 
but  I'm  no  expert  in  these  matters." 

"If  you  were,  you'd  be  wise  to  keep  out  of  it.  Who  can  say 
whether  they  will  break  or  not?  It  is  what  everybody  confidently 
predicted  when  eighty-nine  was  touched  twelve  days  ago;  and  look 
at  it !" 

"  Do  you  go  back  to  the  office  from  here  ?  Good  !  1^11  join  you 
there  in  ten  minutes,"  said  Lane,  "  for  I  shall  not  come  down  town  this 
afternoon,  and  may  not  be  able  to  in  the  morning." 

And  when  Captain  Lane  appeared  at  the  office  of  Vincent,  Clark 
&  Co.  he  brought  with  him  a  stout  little  packet,  which,  after  the  ex- 
change of  a  few  words  and  a  scrap  or  two  of  paper,  Mr,  Clark  care- 
fully stowed  in  the  innermost  compartment  of  the  big  safe.  Then  he 
grasped  Lane's  hand  in  both  of  his,  as  the  captain  said  good-by. 

That  afternoon,  quite  late,  the  captain  rang  at  the  Vincents'  door, 
and  it  was  almost  instantly  opened  by  the  smiling  Abigail  whom  he  so 
longed  to  reward  for  her  evident  sympathy  the  day  before,  yet  lacked 
tiie  courage  to  proffer  a  greenback.  Lane  was  indeed  little  versed  in 
the  ways  of  the  world,  howsoever  well  he  might  be  informed  in  his 
profession. 

"Miss  Vincent  is  in  the  library,  sir,  if  you  will  please  to  walk  that 
way,"  was  her  brief  communication  ;  and  the  captain,  trembling  de- 
spite his  best  efforts  to  control  himself,  stepped  past  her  into  the  broad 
hall,  and  there,  hurrying  down  the  stairway,  came  Mrs.  Vincent,  evi- 
dently to  meet  him.  Silently  she  held  forth  her  hand  and  led  him  into 
the  parlor,  and  then  he  saw  that  her  face  was  very  sad  and  pale  and 
that  her  eyes  were  red  with  weeping. 

"I  will  only  detain  you  a  moment,  captain,"  she  murmured,  "but 
I  felt  that  I  must  see  you.  Mr.  Vincent  wrote  to  me  on  the  train  as 
he  left  here,  and  he  tells  me  you  know — the  worst." 

"Mr.  Vincent  has  honored  me  with  his  confidence,  dear  lady;  and 
I — saw  Mr.  Clark  to-day." 

She  looked  up  eagerly:  "What  news  had  he  from  New  York? 
Did  he  tell  you? — about  Mr.  Rossiter,  that  is?  I  knew  perfectly  well 
what  Mr.  Vincent's  hopes  and  expectations  were  in  going." 

"  There  was  a  telegram.  I  fear  that  he  was  disappointed  in  Mr. 
Rossiter ;  but  the  money  was  not  needed  up  to  the  closing  of  the  board 
at  one  o'clock." 

"  I  am  not  disappointed.  I  thank  God  that  the  Rossiters  refused 
him  money.  It  will  open  his  eyes  to  their  real  characters, — father  and 
son.  I  M^ould  rather  go  and  live  in  a  hovel  than  be  under  obligations 
to  either  of  them."  And  now  the  tears  were  raining  down  her 
cheeks. 

"  Do  not  grieve  so,  Mrs.  Vincent,"  said  Lane.  "  I  cannot  believe 
the  danger  is  so  great.  I  have  listened  to  the  opinions  of  the  strongest 
meu  on  'Change  this  afternoon.     A  '  break'  in  this  corner  was  pre- 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  327 

dieted  in  New  York  at  eleven  this  morning,  and  that  is  the  universal 
opinion  among  the  best  men  now." 

"  Yes,  but  it  may  be  days  away  yet,  and  Mr.  Vincent  has  con- 
fessed to  me  that  his  whole  fortune  hangs  by  a  single  hair, — that  this 
wretched  speculation  has  swallowed  everything, — that  a  rise  of  a  single 
penny  means  beggary  to  us,  for  he  can  no  longer  answer  his  broker's 
calls." 

"  That  may  have  been  so  when  he  wrote ;  but  Mr.  Clark  seems  to 
have  had  a  little  better  luck  locally.  I  infer  from  what  he  told  me 
that  they  were  safe  for  to-day  and  could  meet  the  raise  of  that  critical 
cent  or  two :  so  that,  despite  the  great  loss  they  have  sustained,  there 
is  not  the  certainty  of  ruin  that  so  overwhelmed  Mr.  Vincent  on 
Wednesday." 

"  You  give  me  hope  and  courage,"  cried  the  poor,  anxious-hearted 
woman,  as  she  seized  and  pressed  his  hand.  "  And — and  you  come 
to  us  in  tlie  midst  of  our  troubles !  Mr.  Vincent  was  so  touched  by 
your  writing  first  to  him  :  it  brought  back  old  days,  old  times,  old 
fashions,  that  he  loved  to  recall, — days  when  he,  too,  was  young  and 
brave  and  full  of  hope  and  cheer." 

"  And  I  have  your  good  wishes,  too,  Mrs.  Vincent? — even  though  I 

am  only  a  soldier  and  have  so  little  to  oiFer  her  beyond — beyond " 

But  he  could  not  finish.  He  had  looked  into  her  face  with  such 
eager  hope  and  delight  when  he  began,  yet  broke  down  helplessly  when 
he  tried  to  speak  of  his  great  love  for  her  sweet  daughter. 

"  I  know  what  you  would  say,"  she  answered,  with  quick  and 
ready  sympathy.  "  I  have  seen  how  dear  ray  child  has  been  to  you 
almost  from  the  very  first.  Indeed  I  do  wish  you  happiness,  Mr. 
Lane ;  but  Mr.  Vincent  told  you  that — we  once  had  otlier  views  for 
Mabel.     It  is  only  fair  and  right  that  you  should  know." 

"How  could  it  have  been  otherwise,  Mrs.  Vincent?  Is  there  any 
man  quite  worthy  of  her?  Is  there  any  station  in  life  too  high  for 
one  like  her?  I  never  dared  hope  that  your  consent  could  have  been 
so  freely  given.     I  do  not  dare  hope  that  she  can  possibly  care  for  me 

-yet." 

"  I  will  not  keep  you  longer,  then,"  said  she,  smiling  through  her 
tears.  "  I  shall  see  you  after  a  while,  perhaps.  Mabel  is  in  the 
library.     Now  I'll  leave  you." 

With  tumultuously-throbbing  heart,  he  softly  entered  and  quickly 
glanced  around.  The  tiers  of  almost  priceless  volumes,  the  antique 
furniture,  the  costly  Persian  rugs  and  portieres,  the  pictures,  bronzes, 
bric-a-brac, — all  were  valueless  in  his  eager  eyes.  They  sought  one 
object  alone,  and  found  it  in  a  deep  bay-window  across  the  room. 
There,  leaning  back  in  a  great  easy  reading-chair,  with  a  magazine  in 
her  lap,  her  fair  head  pillowed  on  a  silken  cushion,  reclined  the  lady 
of  his  heart,  smiling  a  sweet  M'elcome  to  him,  while  the  rosy  color 
mounted  to  her  brows  as  he  came  quickly  forward  and  took  her  soft, 
white  hand.  How  he  was  trembling  !  How  his  kind  gray  eyes  were 
glowing !  She  could  not  meet  them  :  she  had  to  look  away.  She  had 
begun  some  pleasant  little  welcoming  speecii,  some  half-laughing  allu- 
sion to  the  flowers,  but  she  stopped  short  in  the  midst  of  it.     A  knot 


328  ^^0  SOLDIERS. 

of  half-faded  roses — his  roses — nestled  in  her  bosom,  contrasting  with 
the  pure  white  of  her  dainty  gown ;  and  now  those  treasured,  envied 
flowers  began  to  rise  and  fall,  as  though  rocked  on  the  billows  of  some 
clear  lake  stirred  by  sudden  breeze.  What  he  said,  he  did  not  know  : 
she  hardly  heard,  though  her  ears  drank  in  every  word.  She  only 
realized  that  both  his  hands  were  tightly  clasping  hers,  and  that,  scorn- 
ing to  seek  a  chair  and  draw  it  to  her  side, — perhaps,  too,  because  he 
could  not  bear  to  release  even  for  an  instant  that  slender  little  hand, 
— perhaps  still  more  because  of  the  old-time  chivalry  in  his  nature  that 
had  prompted  him  to  ask  parental  sanction  before  telling  her  of  his 
deep  and  tender  love, — Captain  Lane  had  dropped  on  one  knee  close 
beside,  and,  bending  over  her,  was  pouring  forth  in  broken,  incoherent 
words  the  old,  old  story  of  a  lover's  hopes  and  fears  and  longings, — 
the  sweet  old  song  that,  day  after  day,  year  after  year,  ay,  though  sung 
since  God's  creation  of  the  beautiful  world  we  live  in,  never,  never  can 
be  heard  or  sung  except  in  rapture.  Even  though  she  be  cold  to  him 
as  stone,  no  true  woman  ever  listened  to  the  tale  of  a  man's  true  love 
without  a  thrill  at  heart.  Once,  once  only,  in  the  lifetime  of  men  like 
Lane — yes,  and  of  men  not  half  his  peers  in  depth  of  character,  in 
intensity  of  feeling — there  comes  a  moment  like  this,  and,  whether  it 
be  in  the  glow  and  fervor  and  enthusiasm  of  youth  or  the  intensity 
and  strength  of  maturer  years,  it  is  the  climax  of  a  lifetime;  it  is  the 
date  from  which  all  others,  all  scenes,  trials,  triumphs,  take  their  due 
apportionment;  it  is  the  memory  of  all  others  that  lingers  to  the  very 
last,  when  all,  all  but  this  are  banished  from  the  dying  braiu.  Rome, 
in  her  pride  of  place,  made  the  building  of  her  Capitol  the  climax  of 
mundaue  history :  everything  in  her  calendar  was  "  ante  urbem  conditam" 
or  the  reverse.  The  old  world  measured  from  the  Flood ;  the  new  world 
— our  world — measures  from  the  birth  of  Him  who  died  upon  the 
cross  ;  and  the  lifetime  of  the  man  who  has  once  deeply  and  devotedly 
loved  has  found  its  climax  in  the  thrilling  moment  of  the  avowal. 

"  Have  you  no  word  to  say  to  me,  Mabel  ? — not  one  word  of  hope  ? 
— not  one?"  he  pleaded. 

Then  she  turned  her  lovely  face,  looking  into  his  deep  eyes  through 
a  mist  of  tears. 

"  I  do  like  you,"  she  murmured ;  "I  do  honor  you  so.  Captain 
Lane ;  but  that  is  not  what  you  deserve.     There  is  no  one,  believe  me, 

whom  I  so  regard  and  esteem  ;  but — I  do  not  know 1  am  not  certain 

of  myself." 

"  Let  me  try  to  win  your  love,  Mabel.  Give  me  just  that  right. 
Indeed,  indeed  I  have  not  dared  to  hope  that  so  soon  I  could  win  even 
your  trust  and  esteem.  You  make  me  so  happy  when  you  admit  even 
that." 

"  It  is  so  little  to  give,  in  return  for  what  you  have  given  me," 
she  answered,  softly,  while  her  hand  still  lay  firmly  held  in  the  clasp 
of  his. 

"  Yet  it  is  so  much  to  me.  Think,  Mabel,  in  four  days  at  most  I 
must  go  back  to  my  regiment.  I  ask  no  pledge  or  promise.  Only  let 
me  write  to  you.  Only  write  to  me  and  let  me  strive  to  arouse  at  least 
a  little  love  in  your  true  heart.     Then  by  and  by — six  months,  perhaps, 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  329 

— I'll  come  again  and  try  my  fate.  I  know  that  an  old  dragoon  like 
me,  with  gray  hairs  sprouting  in  his  moustache " 

But  here  she  laid  her  fingers  on  his  lips,  and  then,  seizing  both  her 
hands,  he  bowed  his  head  over  them  and  kissed  them  passionately. 

The  day  of  parting  came,  all  too  soon.  Duty — the  mistress  to 
whom  he  had  never  hitlierto  given  undivided  allegiance — called  him  to 
the  distant  West,  and  the  last  night  of  his  stay  found  him  bending 
over  her  in  the  same  old  window.  He  was  to  take  a  late  train  for 
St.  Louis,  and  had  said  farewell  to  all  but  her.  And  now  the  mo- 
ment had  arrived.  A  glance  at  his  watch  had  told  him  that  he  had 
but  twenty  minutes  in  which  to  reach  the  station. 

She  had  risen,  and  was  standing,  a  lovely  picture  of  graceful  woman- 
hood, her  eyes  brimming  with  tears.  Both  her  hands  were  now  clasped 
in  his ;  she  could  not  deny  him  that  at  such  a  time ;  but — but  was 
there  not  something  throbbing  in  her  heart  that  she  longed  to  tell  ? 

"It  is  good-by  now,"  he  murmured,  his  whole  soul  in  his  glowing 
eyes,  his  infinite  love  betrayed  in  those  lips  quivering  under  the  heavy 
moustache. 

She  glanced  up  into  his  face. 

"  Fred," — and  then,  as  though  abashed  at  her  own  boldness,  the 
lovely  head  was  bowed  again  almost  on  his  breast. 

"What  is  it,  darling?  Tell  me,"  he  whispered,  eagerly,  a  wild, 
wild  hope  thrilling  through  his  heart. 

"  Would  it  make  you  happier  if — if  I — told  you  that  I  knew  my- 
self a  little  better?" 

"  Mabel !    Do  you  mean — do  you  care  for  me  ?" 

And  then  she  was  suddenly  clasped  in  his  strong,  yearning  arms 
and  strained  to  his  breast.  Long,  long  afterwards  he  used  to  lift  that 
travelling-coat  of  gray  tweeds  from  the  trunk  in  which  it  was  carefully 
stowed  away,  and  wonder  if — if  it  were  indeed  true  that  her  throbbing 
heart  had  thrilled  through  that  senseless  fabric,  stirring  wild  joy  and 
rapture  to  the  very  depths  of  his  own. 

"  Would  I  be  sobbing  my  heart  out,"  at  last  she  murmured,  "  if  I 
did  not  love  you  and  could  not  bear  to  have  you  go  ?" 

VIII. 

"  What  an  awfully  pretty  girl  that  Miss  Vincent  is,  Amos !"  said 
Mr.  Noel  one  morning,  as  the  cousins  were  quietly  breakfasting  together 
before  going  down  town. 

"  Pretty  ?  yes,"  said  Amos,  doubtfully.  "  But  look  here,  my  boy  : 
recollect  that  you  want  to  think  of  something  more  than  '  pretty'  in 
selecting  a  wife  while  you  are  in  here  on  this  detail.  Now,  Mrs. 
Withers  and  I  have  been  keeping  our  eyes  open,  and  our  ears  too,  for 
that  matter :  the  fact  is,  I  always  have  both-  eyes  and  ears  open, — 
travel  with  them  that  way,  sleep  with  them  that  way.  I  would  not 
be  the  man  I  am  in  the  business  world,  Noel,  if  that  weren't  the  case. 
And,  pretty  though  Miss  Vincent  may  be,  she's  not  the  girl  for  you  to 
waste  your  time  on." 

"But  why  not?"  asked  Noel.     "They  have  a  magnificent  home, 


330  ^J^O  SOLDIERS. 

and  everything  about  it  indicates  wealth  and  refinement  and  culture; 
and  there  is  no  denying  that  she  is  one  of  the  most  attractive  girls  in 
society  in  this  city  :  certainly  I  have  seen  none  whom  I  have  admired 
more." 

"That  is  all  very  true,  perhaps/'  was  the  reply;  "but  her  father 
was  very  badly  bitten  during  that  wheat  corner  last  month,  and  in  fact 
he  has  been  losing  heavily  for  the  last  two  years.  Warden,  who  is 
his  broker  on  'Change,  let  it  leak  out  in  more  ways  than  one;  and 
that  wife  of  Warden's  is  a  regular  scandal-monger, — she  can't  help 
talking,  and  everything  she  manages  to  extract  from  him  in  the  way  of 
information  goes  broadcast  over  the  entire  city.  Of  course,  when  the 
corner  broke,  as  it  did,  old  Vincent  managed  to  pull  out  of  it  without 
absolute  loss  of  his  homestead  and  his  entire  business.  But  the  rally 
came  oidy  in  the  nick  of  time.  I  am  told  that  Warden  has  said  that 
if  wheat  had  gone  up  one  cent  higher  it  would  have  knocked  Vincent 
out  of  time ;  he  never  could  have  come  to  again.  Gordon  Noel,  we 
have  another  plan  for  you.  Wait  until  Ned  Terry's  sister  gets  back 
from  the  East ;  between  her  and  her  brother  they  have  just  about  as 
much  money  invested  in  the  best-paying  business  in  this  town  as  any 
people  that  I  can  possibly  name.  She's  a  belle;  she's  just  as  pretty  as 
Miss  Vincent.  She  isn't  as  smart,  perhaps,  but  she  is  a  woman  worth 
cultivating.  Now,  hold  your  horses.  Where  did  you  meet  her,  by  the 
way?" 

"  I  first  met  her  at  the  Thorntons'  dinner-party.  She  was  there 
with  Captain  Lane,  and  some  other  young  people  whom  I  had  not 
previously  met." 

"  Oh,  yes ;  that  reminds  me.  It  seems  to  me  I  have  heard  once  or 
twice  that  your  friend  Lane  was  very  much  smitten  in  that  quarter. 
Now,  you'd  much  better  let  him  carry  off  Miss  Vincent,  if  he  can. 
She  would  suit  his  modest  views  of  life  very  well.  But  I  don't  believe 
the  girl  has  a  penny  to  her  fortune ;  at  least  she  certainly  won't  if 
Vincent  has  no  more  luck  in  the  future  than  he  has  had  in  the  last 
year." 

"I  took  her  down  to  dinner,"  said  Noel,  thoughtfully,  "and  I  re- 
member that  she  talked  a  good  deal  about  the  army,  and  asked  a  great 
many  questions  about  the  cavalry.  Now  that  you  speak  of  it,  I 
noticed  that  Lane,  who  sat  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  table,  didn't 
seem  to  be  particularly  interested  in  the  lady  whom  he  was  escorting, 
although  of  course  he  had  to  be  civil  and  tried  to  keep  up  a  conversa- 
tion, but  every  now  and  then  I  would  catch  him  looking  at  us,  and  par- 
ticularly at  her.     But  she  looked  so  pretty  that  I  didn't  wonder  at  it." 

"  When  did  you  next  see  her?"  said  Withers. 

"  Only  last  night.  You  know,  I  was  called  away  almost  imme- 
diately after  the  Thornton  affair,  and  had  to  go  on  to  New  York  on 
the  court-martial,  where  I  was  summoned  as  a  witness,  then  only  got 
back  in  time  for  the  party  last  night.  That  was  my  second  meeting 
with  her,  and  by  this  time  Lane  had  gone  out  to  join  the  regiment. 
I  didn't  even  have  a  chance  to  say  good -by  to  him.  Do  you  think, 
really,  that  he  was  smitten  in  that  quarter?" 

"  That's  what  I  certainly  heard,"  said  Withers ;  "  and  as  soon  as 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  33I 

you  get  to  know  young  people  in  society,  I  venture  to  say  that  you 
can  readily  find  out  all  about  it.  These  girls  all  know  one  another's 
secrets,  and  are  generally  pretty  ready  to  tell  them.  That's  the  result 
of  my  experience." 

It  was  evident  that  Amos  Withers's  cousin  was  not  to  be  neglected 
in  the  Queen  City.  Two  parties  at  })rivate  houses,  a  reception  at  the 
club,  and  three  dinners  were  the  invitations  which  he  found  awaiting 
him  at  his  office.  Half  an  hour  was  occupied  in  acknowledging  and 
accepting  or  declining,  as  happened  to  be  the  case,  these  evidences  of 
hospitality;  then,  having  no  especial  interest  in  the  morning  paper,  his 
thougl)ts  again  reverted  to  what  Mr.  Withers  had  been  telling  him  about 
Miss  Vincent,  and  the  possible  relation  between  her  and  his  regimental 
comrade.  He  had  been  very  much  impressed  with  her  the  night  be- 
fore. Her  beauty  was  of  such  a  rare  and  radiant  character,  she  was 
so  genial  and  unaffected  in  her  manner,  so  bright  and  winning,  with 
such  an  evident  liking  for  his  society,  that  Mr.  Noel  had  come  away 
flattering  himself  that  he  had  made  in  this  quarter  a  most  favorable 
impression.  He  had  thought  of  iier  very  much  as  he  went  home  from 
the  party, — of  her  interested  ftice,  as  he  talked  or  danced  with  her; 
and  she  danced  delightfully,  and  was  so  good  as  to  say  that  his  step 
perfectly  suited  hers.  He  remembered  now,  too,  her  remark  that  it 
was  so  delightful  to  dance  with  army  officers,  and  graduates  of  the 
Point,  they  all  seemed  to  feel  so  thoroughly  at  home  on  the  floor. 

Noel  was  not  a  graduate  of  the  Point  by  any  means;  but  he  saw 
no  reason  for  disenchanting  her  on  that  score.  He  was  quite  as  good 
as  any  of  the  West-Pointers,  in  his  own  opinion,  and  in  society  was 
very  much  more  at  home  than  many  of  their  number.  As  a  dancer  he 
was  looked  upon  in  his  regiment  and  throughout  the  cavalry  as  one  of 
the  most  accomplished  in  the  whole  service.  And  all  this  interest  and 
all  this  cordiality  he  had  accepted  without  hesitation  as  a  tribute  to  his 
own  superior  qualifications  and  attractiveness.  It  was  therefore  with  a 
feeling  akin  to  pique  that  he  heard  of  this  possible  engagement  exist- 
ing between  her  and  Captain  Lane. 

In  all  the  Eleventh  Cavalry  there  was  no  man  whom  Gordon  Noel 
feared  and  possibly  hated  more  than  he  did  Captain  Lane.  This  arose 
from  the  fact  that  Lane  as  adjutant  of  the  regiment  had  seen  all  the 
communications  that  passed  from  time  to  time  relative  to  Noel's  absence 
from  his  command  when  his  services  were  most  needed  and  when  any 
man  of  spirit  would  have  taken  every  possible  precaution  to  be  with 
it.  He  knew  how  silent  Lane  had  always  been,  and  how  thorough  a 
custodian  of  regimental  secrets  he  was  considered.  But  all  the  same 
the  mere  fact  that  Lane  knew  all  these  circumstances  so  much  to  his 
disadvantage,  and  had  seen  all  his  lame  and  impotent  excuses,  had  made 
him  fear  him  as  a  possible  enemy  and  hate  him  simply  because  he 
stood  in  awe  of  him. 

No  one,  to  M^atch  Noel  in  society  or  in  the  presence  of  his  brother 
officers,  would  suppose  for  a  moment  that  he  looked  upon  Lane  with 
other  than  feelings  of  the  warmest  regard  and  comradeship.  It  was 
only  in  his  secret  thoughts,  which  he  admitted  to  no  soul  on  eartli,  that 
Noel  realized  what  his  real  feelings  were  towards  a  man  who  had  never 


332  .  '^WO  SOLDIERS. 

done  him  a  wrong,  but  who  bad  treated  bim  on  all  occasions,  public  and 
private,  with  courtesy  and  consideration. 

For  some  reason  or  other  the  lieutenant  felt  restless  and  dissatisfied 
this  morning.  The  atmosphere  of  the  office  was  decidedly  uncongenial. 
He  was  a  man  who  rarely  read  anything,  and  to  whom  letter-writing 
was  a  bore.  To  be  sure,  he  had  little  of  it  to  do,  for  no  man  in  the 
regiment  had  expressed  a  desire  to  hear  from  him.  It  was  a  hot,  sultry 
day ;  the  stylish  white  flannel  suit  in  which  he  had  arrayed  his  hand- 
some self  was  wasting  its  elegance  on  the  desert  air  of  a  bare  and  empty 
room,  instead  of  being  seen  in  tbe  boudoirs  of  beauty  or  the  billiard- 
rooms  at  the  club.  Business  was  slack :  no  recruits  were  coming  in, 
and  Mr.  Noel  could  stand  it  no  longer.  A  ring  from  his  bell  summoned 
the  sergeant  to  the  room. 

*'  There  doesn't  seem  to  be  any  likelihood  of  recruits  coming  in  such 
a  day  as  this,  sergeant,"  said  Mr.  Noel.  "  I'm  going  up  to  the  club  for 
a  while;  if  anybody  should  come  in,  send  one  of  the  men  up  there  for 
me ;  I'll  return  at  once."  And  with  that  he  took  his  straw  hat  and  light 
cane  and  strolled  leisurely  up  the  street.  His  was  a  figure  that  many  a 
man — and  more  women — would  turn  to  look  at  more  than  once.  Tall, 
slim,  elegant  in  build,  always  dressed  in  excellent  taste,  Gordon  Noel 
in  any  community  would  have  been  pronounced  a  remarkably  present- 
able man.  His  face,  as  has  been  said,  was  very  fine  ;  his  eyes  dark  and 
handsome,  shaded  by  deep,  thick  lashes;  his  hair  dark  and  waving; 
his  moustache,  dark  and  drooping,  served  only  to  enhance  the  brilliancy 
of  the  even  white  teeth  that  flashed  underneath  it  in  his  frequent  smiles 
and  joyous  laughter.  One  would  say,  in  looking  at  Noel,  that  he  was 
a  man  of  singularly  sunny  disposition  ;  aud  so  he  was,  and  so  they  found 
him  at  the  club  ;  and  so  the  loungers  there  hailed  him  with  jovial  shouts 
as  he  entered  ;  tor,  though  only  a  fortnight  had  elapsed  since  his  arrival, 
and  four  days  of  that  time  he  had  been  absent,  giving  his  testimony 
before  the  court-martial  in  New  York  harbor,  he  had  nevertheless  won 
his  way  into  the  hearts  of  all  the  young  fellows  around  the  club,  and 
no  more  popular  man  than  Gordon  Noel  had  ever  come  within  the 
doors  of  "  The  Queen  City." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  have,  old  man  ?"  was  the  first  question 
asked,  and  Noel  laughingly  ordered  a  sherry-cobbler,  saying  the  day 
was  far  too  hot  for  anything  stronger. 

"  Who's  that  I  just  saw  going  into  the  billiard-room?"  he  asked. 

"That?  that's  Regy  Vincent.     Haven't  you  met  him  yet?" 

"  Regy  Vincent,"  said  Noel.  "  Is  he  the  brother  of  the  Miss  Vin- 
cent whom  I  met  at  the  party  last  night  ?" 

"  The  very  same,"  was  the  reply.  "  Mighty  bright  fellow,  too,  and 
a  very  jolly  one  ;  though  he  has  been  in  hard  luck  of  late." 

"  How  in  hard  luck  ?"  asked  a  quiet-looking  man  seated  in  a  big 
arm-chair,  lowering  for  a  moment  the  qewspaper  which  he  had  been 
reading. 

"  Well,  through  his  father's  ill  luck  on  'Change.  You  all  know,  of 
course,  that  Vincent  was  nearly  busted  before  that  corner  went  under 
last  week." 

"  I  know  this,"  was  the  calm  reply,  "  that  while  he  did  stand  for  a 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  333 

few  days  on  tlie  '  ragged  edge/  and  while  it  may  be  that  had  that  corner 
not  broken  when  it  did  he  would  have  been  in  sore  straits,  in  some  way 
he  or  his  partner,  Clark,  came  to  taw  with  additional  funds,  and  had 
the  consummate  pluck  to  put  up  more  at  the  very  moment  when  it  was 
believed  that  that  syndicate  was  going  to  have  everything  their  own 
way.  So  far  from  being  badly  bitten  by  that  deal,  it's  my  belief  that 
Vincent,  Clark  &  Co.  came  out  of  it  with  a  very  pretty  penny  to  the 
good." 

"  Well,  of  course,  Harris,  you  must  know  more  about  it  than  I 
do.  But  you  cannot  be  gladder  than  I  am  to  hear  that  Vincent's 
status  is  so  much  better  than  we  supposed.  I'm  glad  on  his  account, 
I'm  glad  on  Regy's  account,  and  I'm  particularly  glad  on  Miss  Mabel's 
account.  And  now  I'm  particularly  chuckling  over  Billy  Rossiter's 
frame  of  mind  when  he  hears  the  real  truth  of  this  matter.  AVhen  he 
went  after  her  to  Rome  last  year,  and  everybody  supposed  that  Vincent 
was  worth  a  million,  there's  no  doubt  in  the  world  that  he  did  his  best 
to  win  her,  and  that  was  what  he  was  sent  abroad  by  his  father  to  do. 
But  he  didn't  win  her  then,  for  she  strenuously  denied  any  engagement 
when  she  came  back  here ;  yet  it  was  supposed  tliat  if  he  persevered  his 
chances  would  be  good.  Why,  he's  not  half  a  bad  fellow,  only  he 
can't  marry  so  long  as  he  is  in  his  father's  employ  and  dependent  on 
him,  unless  he  marries  according  to  his  father's  wishes ;  and  the  old 
man  called  him  off  just  as  soon  as  he  found  out  that  Vincent  was  on 
the  verge  of  failure.  Billy  Rossiter  has  lost  any  chance  that  he  might 
have  had  in  that  quarter ;  for  she'll  never  look  at  him  again." 

"  Served  him  right,  if  that  be  the  case.  Any  man  who  hasn't 
sense  enough  to  stick  to  a  girl  who  is  bright  and  pretty  as  Mabel  Vin- 
cent, rich  or  poor,  deserves  no  luck  at  all  in  this  world.  But  that 
reminds  me.  Captain  Noel,  according  to  rumor  and  what  the  girls  say 
in  society, — and  you  know  they  generally  know  pretty  much  every- 
thing that  is  going  on, — there  is  something  more  than  a  mere  un- 
derstanding between  her  and  your  predecessor  here,  the  recruiting 
officer.  Lieutenant  Lane.     Did  he  say  anything  about  it  to  you  ?" 

"  No,  not  a  word.  I  think,  though,  that  had  there  been  anything 
in  the  story  Lane  would  have  let  me  know  something  about  it,  for  we 
are  very  old  and  intimate  friends.  Did  you  say  that  that  was  Mr. 
Reginald  Vincent  who  has  just  gone  into  the  billiard-room  ?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  Mr.  Morris,  "  that's  he.  Would  you  like  to 
know  him?" 

"  Very  much  indeed  ;  and  if  you've  nothing  better  to  do,  come  in 
and  present  me.  Perhaps  he  will  want  to  play  a  game  of  billiards, 
and  if  so  I'm  his  man." 

And  so  it  happened  that,  that  very  morning,  Gordon  Noel  was 
presented  to  Reginald  Vincent,  and  when  Regy  went  home  to  luncheon 
he  spoke  enthusiastically  of  his  new-found  acquaintance,  whom  he 
pi'onounced  to  be  one  of  the  most  delightful  fellows  he  had  ever  met 
anywhere,  and  who  was  such  a  warm  and  devoted  friend  of  Captain 
Lane.  "I  want,  if  I  meet  him  this  afternoon,  as  I  probably  shall,  to 
bring  him  back  to  dinner  with  me.  What  say  you,  mother? — just 
informally." 


334  '^IVO  SOLDIERS. 

"  Don't  you  think  it  would  be  better  to  wait  a  day  or  two,  and 
have  a  little  dinner,  and  invite  a  few  friends  to  meet  him  ?"  asked  Mrs. 
Vincent.  "  Your  father,  perhaps,  would  like  to  be  consulted  in  the 
matter.  I've  no  doubt  that  he  would  like  to  do  something  to  show 
attention  to  any  friend  of  Captain  Lane's.  What  do  you  think, 
Mabel  ?" 

"  I  vote  for  both,"  replied  that  young  woman,  with  much  alacrity. 
"  I  have  met  Mr.  Noel  twice." 

"  Captain  Noel,  dear,"  said  Regy  ;  "  Captain  Noel." 

"  He  is  not  a  captain  yet,  Heginald :  I  happen  to  know  from  the 
regimental  roster:  I  have  a  copy  up-stairs,  that  Captain  Lane  very 
kindly  left  me."  And  here  a  decided  blush  stole  up  the  fair  cheeks  of 
the  young  lady.  "  I  learned  a  good  deal  about  the  officers  of  the 
regiment  from  Mr.  Lane — Captain  Lane — while  he  was  here.  Mr. 
Noel  ranks  second  among  the  lieutenants  of  the  regiment.  As  Cap- 
tain Lane  said,  he  is  so  very  near  his  captaincy  that  perhaps  he  ac- 
cepts the  title  that  you  all  give  liim  at  the  club  as  only  a  trifle  prema- 
ture." 

"  Well,  captain  or  lieutenant,  it  doesn't  make  any  difference,"  said 
Regy,  impulsively :  "  he's  a  mighty  good  fellow,  and  a  mighty  good 
friend  of  your  friend  Captain  Lane,  and  if  you  have  no  objection, 
mother,  I'll  bring  him  around  to  dinner  to-night,  and  then  perhaps 
we  might  go  to  tiie  theatre  afterwards.  I'm  very  sure  that  Captain 
Noel  will  enjoy  it.  Fact  is,  he  enjoys  everything.  Everybody  in  the 
club  is  perfectly  delighted  with  him.  You  ought  to  hear  him  sing  an 
Irish  song  or  tell  a  French  story  !  I'll  try  and  get  him  started  when 
he  comes  here.  He's  a  wonderful  mimic;  and  he's  so  full  of  informa- 
tion about  their  service  on  the  frontier.  Now,  Lane  so  seldom  spoke 
of  anything  of  the  kind ;  but  Noel  will  talk  for  hours  at  a  time  about 
the  wonderful  country  through  which  they  have  scouted  and  fought, 
and  all  that  they  have  been  through  in  their  campaigns.  By  Jove ! 
but  that  fellow  has  seen  a  lot  of  hard  service,  and  has  been  through 
some  hair-breadth  escapes !" 

"  Who  ?"  inquired  Mrs.  Vincent ;  "  Captain  Lane  or  Mr.  Noel  ?" 

"  Noel,  of  course, — Noel  I'm  speaking  of.  Lane,  no  doubt,  saw  a 
great  deal  of  service  with  the  regiment ;  but  Noel  says  that  he  was 
adjutant  so  much  of  the  time,  and  on  other  staff-duty,  while  he  (Noel) 
was  almost  incessantly  scouting,  hunting  after  various  Indian  parties, 
and  being  on  the  war-path,  as  he  laughingly  expresses  it." 

"  Does  he  mean  that  Captain  Lane  didn't  see  much  actual  service 
there  ?"  asked  Miss  Mabel,  with  heightened  color. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  that  he  means  that.  Don't  understand  me  as 
saying  for  a  moment  that  Noel  disparages  Lane's  services ;  on  the  con- 
trary, he  never  speaks  of  him  except  with  the  most  enthusiastic  regard. 
Neither  does  he  boast  at  all  of  his  own  service ;  only  you  can't  help 
seeing,  in  the  modest,  off-hand  way  in  which  he  speaks  of  his  cam- 
paigning, what  a  deal  of  hardship  and  danger  he  has  encountered  for 
the  simple  reason  that  he  was  with  the  command  that  had  to  go  through 
it  all."  ^  ^ 

"  Your  father  tells  me,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  "  that  he  met  him  one 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  335 

day  on  'Change  when  Mr.  Withers  brought  him  in ;  that  was  before 
the  crash,  and  when  he  had  no  time  to  pay  him  any  attention.  Of 
course  the  cousin  of  Mr.  A  mos  Withers  was  receiv^ed  with  a  great  deal 
of  bowing  and  scraping  by  Mr.  Withers's  friends  in  that  honorable 
body.  But  all  the  same  I  know  your  father  will  be  glad  to  meet  Mr. 
Noel  now  ;  and  by  all  means  bring  him,  if  you  feel  disposed,  to-night. 
What  manner  of  looking  man  is  he?" 

"  A  remarkably  handsome  man,  mother,"  said  Mabel,  at  once, — 
"  one  of  the  handsomest  I  ever  saw  ;  and  he  certainly  made  himself 
very  entertaining  and  very  jolly  the  night  we  sat  together  at  dinner  at 
the  Thorntons'." 

"  There's  a  great  contrast  physically  between  him  and  Lane,"  put 
in  Regy.  "  Noel  is  such  an  elegantly  built  fellow, — so  tall  and  fine- 
looking.  Lane  would  be  almost  undersized  when  standings  beside 
him,  and  is  very  much  at  a  disadvantage  when  they  appear  together,  I 
should  judge." 

A  very  bright  and  joyous  party  it  was,  seated  around  the  home- 
like table  of  the  Vincents  that  evening,  and,  as  Regy  had  predicted, 
Noel  proved  very  entertaining  and  a  most  agreeable  guest.  While 
showing  much  deference  to  Mr.  Vincent  and  attention  to  his  good 
wife,  he  nevertheless  managed  to  have  a  great  deal  to  say  about 
the  regiment  and  its  daring  and  perilous  service  on  the  frontier,  and 
to  throw  in  here  and  there  many  a  pleasant  word  about  Captain 
Lane  and  their  long  and  intimate  acquaintance,  and  before  dinner  was 
over  had  won  a  warm  place  in  Mabel  Vincent's  heart  by  the  way  in 
which  he  so  frequently  spoke  of  the  man  to  whom  she  liad  plighted 
her  troth. 

And  that  very  evening,  as  Frederick  Lane, — far  out  under  the 
star-lit  sky  of  Arizona, — with  his  heart  full  of  longing  and  love  for 
her,  and  thinking  only  of  her  as  he  rode  over  the  desolate  plain  with 
the  lights  of  old  Fort  Graham  already  in  view,  Mabel  Vincent,  seated 
by  Gordon  Noel's  side,  was  looking  up  into  his  handsome  face  and 
listenino;  to  his  animated  voice  between  the  acts  of  "  Twelfth  Night." 


IX. 

Only  a  short  distance  from  the  Arizona  border,  with  the  blue  range 
of  the  Santa  Catarina  shutting  out  the  sunset  skies,  M'ith  sand  and 
cactus  and  Spanish  bayonet  on  every  side,  the  old  post  of  Fort  Graham 
stood  in  the  desert  like  a  mud-colored  oasis.  All  the  quarters,  all  the 
store-houses,  stables,  corrals,  and  barracks,  were  built  of  the  native 
adobe;  and  though  whitewash  had  been  liberally  applied,  especially 
about  the  homes  of  the  officers,  and  the  long  Venetian  blinds  at  their 
front  windows  had  been  painted  the  coolest  of  deep  greens,  and  clear 
running  water  sparkled  through  the  acequias  that  bordered  the  parade, 
it  could  not  be  denied  that  at  its  best  Graham  was  an  arid  and  forbid- 
ding station,  so  far  as  one  could  judge  by  appearances.  Trees,  verdure, 
turf,  were  items  almost  unknown  within  a  day's  march  of  the  flag-staff; 
but  in  the  old  times  when  the  Navajoes  were  the  terror  of  the  wide 
Southwest  and  even  the  Comanches  sometimes  carried  their  raids  across 


336  ^^0  SOLDIERS. 

the  Rio  Bravo  del  Norte — the  Rio  Grande  of  to-day — the  post  had 
beeu  "  located"  where  it  might  afford  protection  to  the  "  Forty-Niners" 
and  to  the  pioneers  of  the  prairies ;  the  traus-continental  trail  led  past 
its  very  gates,  and  many  a  time  and  oft  the  miner  and  the  emigrant 
thanked  God  and  tlie  general  government  that  the  old  fort  was  placed 
just  where  it  was,  for  Indian  pursuers  drew  rein  when  once  in  sight 
of  its  dingy  walls ;  and  so  from  year  to  year  for  more  than  thrice  a 
decade  the  flag  was  raised  at  sunrise,  the  post  was  always  garrisoned ; 
and  now,  with  the  Southern  Pacific  piercing  the  range  but  a  short  dis- 
tance below,  and  landing  stores  and  forage  at  the  quartermaster's  d6p0t 
within  four  miles  of  the  corrals,  it  became  easier  to  maintain  a  force 
of  cavalry  at  Graham  ;  and  one  of  the  troops  there  stationed  was  Lane's 
new  command,  the  relict  of  the  late  lamented  Curran,  "  the  Devil's 
own  D." 

An  easy-going  old  dragoon  was  Curran,  and  for  years  before  his 
retirement  it  was  an  open  secret  that  his  first  sergeant  "  ran  the  troop" 
to  suit  himself  and  that  the  captain  never  permitted  his  subalterns 
to  interfere.  A  more  independent,  devil-may-care,  and  occasionally 
drunken  lot  of  troopers  were  rarely  gathered  in  one  such  organization, 
and,  while  steady  and  reliable  men  on  getting  their  discharges  at  the 
end  of  their  term  of  enlistment  would  refuse  to  "  take  on"  again  in  D 
Troop,  but  would  go  over  to  Captain  Breese  or  perhaps  to  a  company 
at  another  station,  all  the  scamps  and  rollicking  characters  in  the  regi- 
ment would  drift  over  into  ''  D"  and  be  welcomed  by  the  choice  spirits 
therein  assembled.  And  this  was  the  gang  that  Captain  Lane  was  now 
expected  to  bring  up  with  a  round  turn  and  transform  into  dutiful 
soldiers.  Obedient  to  the  colonel's  behest,  he  had  stopped  over  a 
couple  of  days  at  head,-quarters,  had  had  a  most  cordial  greeting  from 
every  officer  at  the  post,  had  called  on  all  the  ladies, — not  omitting  his 
fair  defamers, — and  then  had  hastened  on  to  Graham  and  his  new  and 
trying  duties.  Every  day,  as  he  was  whirled  farther  away  from  the 
home  of  her  whom  he  so  devotedly  loved,  he  wrote  long  letters  to  her, 
filled  with — only  lovers  know  what  all.  And  liis  heart  leaped  with 
joy  that  topmost  in  the  little  packet  of  letters  awaiting  him  at  the 
adjutant's  office  when  he  reached  his  post  was  a  dainty  billet  addressed 
to  him  in  her  beloved  hand.  Until  he  could  get  his  quarters  in  habi- 
table condition  the  new  troop-commander  was  the  guest  of  Captain  and 
Mrs.  Nash ;  and  he  could  hardly  wait  for  the  close  of  that  amiable 
woman's  welcoming  address  to  reach  his  room  and  devour  every  word 
of  that  most  precious  missive.  She  had  written — bless  her  ! — the  very 
day  after  he  left,  and  a  sweet,  womanly  letter  it  was, — so  shy  and  half 
timid,  yet  so  full  of  faith  and  pride  in  him.  Every  one  at  Graham 
remarked  on  the  wonderful  change  for  the  better  that  had  come  over 
Lane  since  he  went  East.  Never  had  they  seen  him  so  joyous,  so 
blithe  in  manner.  He  seemed  to  walk  on  air  ;  his  eyes  beamed  on 
every  one  ;  his  face  seemed  "  almost  to  have  a  halo  round  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Nash,  and  neither  she  nor  any  woman  in  garrison  had  the  faintest  doubt 
as  to  the  explanation  of  it  all.  Love  had  wrought  the  change,  and 
being  loved  had  intensified  and  prolonged  it.  Every  man — every 
woman  in  garrison  was  his  friend,  and  the  happy  fellow  would  gladly 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  337 

have  taken  dozens  of  them  into  his  confidence  and  told  them  all  about 
it,  and  talked  by  the  hour  of  her. 

But  there  were  reasons,  Mrs.  Vincent  had  said,  why  it  was  most 
desirable  that  there  should  be  no  announcement  of  the  engagement  as 
yet.  What  these  were  she  did  not  explain  to  Mabel  herself,  but  assured 
her  that  it  was  her  father's  wish  as  well.  Lane  had  rushed  to  the  great 
jewelry-house  of  Van  Loo  &  Laing,  and  the  diamond  solitaire  that 
flashed  among  the  leaves  of  the  exquisite  rose-bud  he  smilingly  handed 
her  that  night  was  one  to  make  any  woman  gasp  with  delight.  Could 
anything  on  earth  be  rich  enough,  pure  enough,  fair  enough,  to  lavish 
on  her,  his  peerless  queen  ? 

She  had  held  forth  her  soft  white  hand  and  let  him  slip  it  on  the 
engagement  finger  and  then  bend  the  knee  like  knight  of  old  and  kiss 
it  fervently.  She  revelled  in  it,  rejoiced  in  it,  but,  heeding  her  mother's 
advice,  stowed  it  away  where  none  could  see  it,  in  the  secret  drawer  of 
her  desk,  and  Lane  was  perfectly  satisfied.  "  I  will  tell  you  the  reason 
some  day,"  Mrs.  Vincent  liad  said  to  him,  "  but  not  just  now,  for  I 
might  be  doing  wrong  ;"  and  he  had  protested  that  she  need  never  tell 
him.  What  cared  he,  so  long  as  Mabel's  love  was  his,  and  they  under- 
stood each  other  as  they  did? 

And  so,  while  people  at  Graham  plied  him  with  questions  and 
insinuations  and  side-remarks  about  the  "  girl  he  left  behind  him"  in 
the  East,  he  kept  faithfully  to  the  agreement,  and  though  all  the  gar- 
rison knew  he  wrote  to  her  every  day  and  took  long  rides  alone  that 
he  might  think  of  her,  doubtless,  and  though  every  one  knew  that 
those  dainty  missives  that  came  so  often  for  Captain  Lane  were  written 
by  Miss  Mabel  Vincent,  never  once  did  he  admit  the  existence  of  an 
engagement, — never  once  until  long  afterwards. 

The  first  real  tidings  that  the  Graham  people  had  of  her  came  in  a 
letter  from  head-quarters.  Mrs.  Riggs  had  had  such  a  long,  charming 
letter  from  Mr.  Noel  that  she  called  in  several  of  her  cronies  and  read 
it  all  to  them  ;  and  that  very  evening  one  of  the  number,  unable  to 
bear  the  burden  of  so  much  information,  shifted  it  from  her  mental 
shoulders  by  writing  it  all  to  Mrs.  Nash.  Perhaps  the  best  plan  will 
be  to  read  the  extract  which  referred  to  Lane  exactly  as  Mr.  Noel 
wrote  it : 

"  By  this  time  I  presume  Fred  Lane  is  busily  engaged  with  his  new 
troop.  I  served  with  them  in  the  Sioux  campaign,  and  they  never  gave 
me  any  trouble  at  all.  So,  too,  in  the  Geronimo  chase  a  while  ago, 
when  Major  Brace  picked  me  out  to  go  ahead  by  night  from  Carrizo's 
I  asked  for  a  detachment  from  D  Troop,  and  the  men  seemed  to  appre- 
ciate it.  I  knew  they  would  follow  wherever  I  would  lead,  and  would 
stand  by  me  through  thick  and  thin.  If  Lane  starts  in  right  I've  no 
doubt  they  will  do  just  as  well  for  him  ;  but  I  expect  he  is  feeling 
mighty  blue  at  having  to  rejoin  just  now.  You  know  I've  always 
been  a  warm  friend  of  his,  and  it  hurt  me  to  see  him  so  unwilling  to 
go  back.  No  one  seemed  to  know  him  very  well  in  society ;  and  it's 
very  queer,  for  this  was  his  old  home, — and  I  was  never  more  delight- 
fully welcomed  anywhere ;  the  people  are  charming.     But  Lane  had 


338  I'^O  SOLDIERS. 

held  himself  aloof  a  good  deal,  and  fellows  at  the  club  say  he  didn't 
^  run  with  the  right  set.'  Then,  if  all  accounts  be  true,  he  had  had 
hard  luck  in  several  ways.  I'm  told  that  he  lost  money  in  a  big  wheat 
s[)eculation,  and  everybody  says  lie  totally  lost  his  heart.  I  tell  you 
this  in  confidence  because  I  know  you  are  a  devoted  friend  of  his, — as 
indeed  you  are  of  all  in  the  dear  old  regiment, — but  he  was  much 
embarrassed  when  it  came  to  turning  over  the  funds.  There  was  quite 
a  heavy  shortage,  which  he  had  to  make  up  at  a  time  when  it  was 
probably  most  inconvenient.  As  to  the  other  loss,  it  isn't  to  be  won- 
dered at.  She  is  a  beautiful  and  most  charming  girl,  and  many  a  man, 
I  fancy,  has  laid  his  heart  at  her  feet.  It  is  said,  however,  that  Lane's 
loss  is  the  heavier  in  this  case  because — well,  I  fear  it  will  come  to 
nothing.  A  young  lady  told  me  yesterday  that  there  was  something 
back  of  it  all, — that  she,  Miss  Vincent,  was  deeply  in  love  with  a  Mr. 
Rossiter,  of  New  York,  and  had  been  for  over  a  year,  and  they  were 
to  have  been  married  this  coming  September,  but  that  the  gentleman  (?) 
learned  that  her  father  had  been  nearly  swamped  in  speculation  and 
had  not  a  penny  to  give  her.  My  informant  went  to  school  with  Miss 
Vincent,  and  knows  her  intimately,  and  she  says  that  Mr.  Rossiter 
simply  threw  her  over  a  short  time  ago,  and  that  it  was  pique  and 
exasperation  and  to  hide  her  heart-break  from  the  world  that  Mabel 
Vincent  began  to  show  such  pleasure  in  Lane's  devotions.  She  led  him 
on,  so  her  lady  friends  say  ;  and  now  Mr.  Rossiter  has  found  out  that 
old  Vincent  was  sharper  and  shrewder  than  any  one  supposed  and 
made  instead  of  losing  a  pile,  and  now  he  is  suing  to  be  taken  back, 
and  they  say  that  she  is  so  much  in  love  with  the  fellow  that  the 
chances  are  all  in  his  favor.  This  is  why  I  feel  such  sorrow  and 
anxiety  for  Lane. 

"  Well,  I  led  the  german  at  a  lovely  party  at  the  Prendergasts'  last 
night.  Miss  Vincent  was  there,  looking  like  a  peach -blossom,  and  we 
danced  together  a  great  deal.  When  it- came  time  to  break  up  I  believe 
half  the  people  in  the  rooms  came  to  say  good-night  to  me  and  to  tell 
me  they  had  never  seen  so  delightful  a  german, — '  everything  so 
depends  on  the  leader.'  I  have  invitations  for  something  or  other  for 
every  night  for  the  next  fortnight ;  and  yet  I  so  often  long  for  tlie  old 
regiment  and  the  true  friends  I  had  to  leave.  It  did  rae  a  workl  of 
good  last  night  to  meet  old  Colonel  Gray,  of  the  retired  list,  whose 
home  is  here,  but  he  commanded  the  — th  Infantry  in  the  Sioux  cam- 
paign, and  when  he  saw  me  he  threw  his  arms  around  my  neck  and 
hugged  me  before  the  whole  throng  of  people.  Give  my  love  to  our 
chief,  always,  and  believe  me,  dear,  true  friend  of  mine, 

"  Yours  most  affectionately, 

"  Gordon  Noel." 

Condensed,  edited  by  feminine  hands,  and  accented  here  and  there 
as  suited  the  writer's  mood,  this  was  the  letter  which  formed  the  basis 
of  the  one  received  by  Mrs.  Nash.  Lane  by  this  time  was  cosily  en- 
sconced in  his  quarters,  and  was  giving  all  his  time  to  the  improvement 
of  affairs  about  his  troop's  barracks,  kitchens,  and  stables,  to  drill-  and 
target- j)ract ice,  and  to  company  duties  generally.     His  days  knew  no 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  339 

relaxation  from  labor  from  reveille  until  "  retreat"  at  sunset,  and  then 
came  the  delicious  evenings  in  which  he  could  write  to  her  and  read  a 
chapter  or  two  of  some  favorite  work  before  going  early  to  bed.  After 
the  first  week  he  seldom  left  his  house  after  eight  o'clock,  and  the  gar- 
rison had  therefore  ample  opportunity  to  discuss  his  aifairs.  Some 
color  was  lent  to  the  story  of  his  having  lost  money  in  speculation 
by  a  letter  received  from  Cheyenne  written  to  the  new  major  of  the 

th  Infantry,  who   had   recently  joined  by  promotion   from  Fort 

Russell,  near  that  thriving  town.  The  writer  said  that  Lane  of  the 
Eleventh  Cavalry  had  sold  his  property  there  for  fifteen  thousand 
dollars  about  the  end  of  June,  and  he  had  bought  it  for  twenty-five 
hundred  only  nine  years  before.  He  could  have  got  eighteen  thousand 
just  as  well  by  waiting  a  few  days;  but  lie  wanted  the  money  at  once. 

No  one,  of  course,  could  ask  the  captain  any  direct  questions  about 
his  affairs  of  either  heart  or  pocket,  but  Lane  was  puzzled  to  account 
for  some  of  the  remarks  that  were  made  to  him, — the  interrogato- 
ries about  the  methods  of  speculation,  the  tentatives  as  to  chances  of 
"  making  a  good  thing"  in  that  way,  and  the  sharp  and  scrutinizing 
glances  that  accompanied  the  queries.  The  sweet,  sympathetic,  semi-con- 
fidential manner,  the  inviting  way  in  which  the  ladies  spoke  to  him  of 
his  present  loneliness  and  their  hopes  that  soon  he  would  bring  to  them 
a  charming  wife  to  share  their  exile  and  bless  his  army  home, — all  tiiis, 
too,  seemed  otld  to  him  ;  but,  as  he  had  never  been  in  love  nor  engaged 
before,  he  did  not  know  but  that  it  was  "always  the  way  with  them," 
and  so  let  it  pass. 

And  then  he  was  very  happy  in  her  letters.  They  were  neither  as  fre- 
quent nor  as  long  as  his,  but  tlien  she  had  such  a  round  of  social  duties ; 
she  was  in  such  constant  demand ;  there  were  visitors  or  parties  every 
night,  and  endless  calls  and  shopping-tours  with  mother  every  day,  and 
she  was  really  getting  a  little  run  down.  The  weather  was  oppressively 
warm,  and  they  longed  to  get  away  from  the  city  and  go  to  the  moun- 
tains. It  was  only  a  day's  ride  to  the  lovely  resorts  in  the  Alleghanies, 
but  papa  was  looking  a  little  thin  and  worn  again,  and  the  doctors  had 
said  his  heart  was  affected, — not  alarmingly  or  seriously,  but  mamma 
could  not  bear  to  leave  him,  and  he  declared  it  utterly  impossible  to  be 
away  from  his  business  a  single  day.  He  and  Mr.  Clark  were  very 
hopeful  over  a  new  venture  they  had  made,  the  nature  of  which  she  did 
not  thoroughly  understand. 

But  let  us  take  a  peep  at  some  of  those  early  letters, — not  at  the 
answers  to  his  eager  questions,  not  at  the  shy  words  of  maiden  love 
that  crept  in  here  and  there,  but  at  those  pages  any  one  might  read. 

"  Tuesday  night. 
"...  Such  a  delightful  german  as  we  had  last  night  at  the  Pren- 
dergasts' !  Captain  Noel  led — I  have  to  call  him  captain,  for  every  one 
does  here,  and  if  I  say  '  Mr.'  they  want  to  know  why,  and  it  is  embar- 
rassing to  explain  how  I  know.  He  leads  remarkably  well,  and  I  was 
very  proud  of  'our  regiment,'  sir,  when  listening  to  all  the  nice  things 
said  about  him.  How  I  wished  for  a  certain  other  cavalry  captain, 
now  so  many  cruel  miles  away !     Mr.  Noel  took  me  out  often, — and 


340  ^^O  SOLDIERS. 

indeed  I  was  a  decided  belle, — and  he  told  me  that  he  had  to  lead  with 
Miss  Prendergast,  but  would  so  much  rather  dance  with  me. 

"It  is  almost  settled  that  we  go  away  in  August  for  the  entire 
month.  Dr.  Post  says  mother  must  go,  and  that  father  ought  to  go. 
Of  course  I  go  with  mamma.  Deer  Park  will  doubtless  be  the  favored 
spot.  I  wish  August  were  here ;  I  wish  you  were  here ;  I  wish — oh, 
so  many  things  !  Your  letters  are  such  a  delight  to  me.  I  wonder  if 
other  girls  have  anything  like  them.  Yes,  you  shall  have  the  picture 
on  my  birthday ;  but  mind,  sir,  you  are  to  take  the  utmost  care  of  it, 
or  the  original  will  feel  neglected." 

"  Friday  night. 

"...  So  many  interruptions  to-day,  dear  Fred  !  You  see  what  an 
incoherent  thing  this  is  thus  far,  and  now  I'm  tired  out.  We  had  a 
charming  time  at  the  Woodrows'  dinner  last  evening.  The  day  had 
been  hot,  but  their  table  was  set  on  the  lawn  under  a  canopy,  and,  the 
walls  being  raised,  we  had  a  delightful  breeze  from  the  river.  Their 
place  is  one  of  the  finest  on  the  heights.  I  did  so  wish  you  could  have 
seen  it.  Captain  Noel  took  me  in,  and  was  so  bright  and  jolly  and 
full  of  anecdote.  Everybody  likes  him,  and  I  like  him  mainly  be- 
cause he  is  such  a  loyal  friend  of  yours.  He  talks  so  much  of  you 
and  of  all  the  dangers  you  have  shared  in  common ;  and  you  know 
how  interesting  all  this  must  be  to  me.  Sometimes  I  wonder  that  you 
had  so  little  to  say  about  him, — though  you  never  did  talk  much  about 
the  regiment  and  never  would  talk  much  about  yourself.  Wednesday 
evening  we  had  a  little  theatre-party.  Regy  got  it  up,  and  we  just 
filled  two  adjoining  loges.  Captain  Noel  was  Fanny  Helton's  escort, 
but  he  talked  most  of  the  time  with  me, — a  thing  that  my  escort,  Mr. 
Forbes,  did  not  seem  to  like ;  but,  as  he  couldn't  talk,  and  Mr.  Noel 
would,  what  could  I  do?" 

"  Sunday  evening. 

"  It  is  late,  and  I  ought  to  be  asleep,  but  the  last  caller  has  just 
gone,  and  to-morrow  there  may  be  no  time  to  write  at  all,  and  you  are 

such  an  exacting,  tyrannical,  dear  old  boy  that Well,  there,  now,  let 

me  tell  you  of  the  day.  You  say  anything  and  everything  that  I  say 
or  do  is  of  interest.  So,  to  begin  with,  yesterday  I  had  a  headache,  due, 
I  fear,  to  the  late  supper  Regy  gave  us  at  the  club  after  the  theatre. 
Fanny  Holton  came  to  take  me  for  a  drive,  but  I  did  not  feel  like 
going,  and  begged  off.  Then  she  told  me  that  Captain  Noel  was  in 
the  carriage  waiting,  and  that  he  would  be  so  disappointed.  Mother 
came  in  and  said  the  air  would  do  me  good ;  and  so  we  went,  and  I 
came  back  feeling  so  much  brighter.  Mr.  Noel  was  very  amusing,  and 
kept  us  laughing  all  the  time.  Coming  home,  Fanny  got  out  at  her 
house,  as  she  had  to  dress  for  dinner,  but  told  the  coachman  to  drive 
me  home  and  Mr.  Noel  to  the  club.  He  began  talking  of  you  the 
moment  she  disappeared,  and  said  he  so  hoped  you  were  going  to  write 
regularly  to  him.  Are  you?  He  seems  so  fond  of  you;  but  I  do 
not  wonder  at  that. 

"  This  morning  we  went  to  church,  and  afterwards  Mr,  Noel  joined 
and  walked  home  with  us,  and  papa  begged  him  to  come  in  to  luncheon, 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  341 

which  he  did.  You  dear  fellow !  what  have  you  done  to  my  beloved 
old  daddy,  that  he  is  so  ardent  an  admirer  of  yours?  He  shook  Mr. 
Noel's  hand  three  times  before  he  would  let  him  go,  and  begged  him 
to  come  often  :  he  liked  to  know  men,  he  said,  who  could  so  thoroughly 
appreciate — whom  do  you  think,  sir? — Captain  Fred  Lane.  After  he 
had  gone,  papa  spoke  of  him  delightedly  on  two  or  three  occasions. 
Will  they  take  him  away  too  as  soon  as  he  is  really  a  captain  ?" 

"Wednesday. 

"  You  dear,  dear,  extravagant  fellow  !  Never  have  I  had  such  ex- 
quisite flowers,  or  such  profusion  of  them.  You  must  have  given  your 
florist  carte  blanche.  Nothing  that  came  to  me  compared  with  them. 
My  birthday  was  the  cause  of  quite  a  little  /Me  in  the  family,  and  I 
had  some  lovely  presents.  Mr.  Noel,  too,  sent  a  beautiful  basket  of 
roses,  and  it  pleased  me  very  much.  I  want  your  comrades  to  like  me, 
and  yet  I  know  he  did  this  on  your  account.  Though  he  is  so  thought- 
ful and  delicate  and  never  refers  to  our  engagement,  I  feel  that  he 
knows  it ;  and  it  seems  better  that  way,  somehow. 

"  You  did  not  answer  my  questions  about  him,  Fred.  Didn't  you 
read  my  letter  ?" 

Among  the  letters  that  came  from  the  Queen  City  was  one 
which  bore  the  tremulous  superscription  of  the  head  of  the  firm  of 
Vincent,  Clark  &  Co.  It  was  brief,  but  it  gave  Captain  Lane  a  thrill 
of  gladness : 

"  It  was  your  timely  and  thoughtful  aid  that  enabled  us  to  recover 
so  much  of  our  losses.  You  alone  came  to  our  rescue,  and  I  fully 
appreciate  the  risk  you  ran.     It  will  never  be  forgotten. 

"  Clark  will  send  draft  for  the  entire  am't,  or  deposit  to  your 
credit,  as  you  may  direct.  I  go  to  New  York  and  Chicago  in  two  or 
three  days.     Our  prospects  are  flattering." 


August  was  close  at  hand.  Queen  City  "  society"  had  scattered  in 
every  direction.  The  mountains  and  the  sea-shore  were  levying  tribute 
on  the  plethoric  pockets  of  the  "  big  men"  on  'Change  and  in  business 
of  every  conceivable  kind.  Blinds  and  shutters  were  closed  at  scores 
of  hospitable  mansions  in  the  narrow  streets  of  the  old  city  and  even 
in  the  elegant  villas  that  crowned  the  surrounding  heights.  The  sun- 
glare  at  mid-day  was  so  intense  that  no  man  was  safe  in  venturing  forth 
without  a  huge  sunshade  of  some  kind,  and  even  within  the  sacred 
precincts  of  the  club,  where  broad  awnings  hung  on  every  side  and 
palm-leaf  fans  were  in  constant  motion,  the  men  strolled  in  to  luncheon 
in  shirts  of  lightest  flannel  or  pongee,  with  rolling  collars  and  infini- 
tesimal neckties.  Every  one  who  could  leave  town  had  long  since 
gone;  and  yet  the  Vincents  lingered.  Each  day  seemed  to  add  to 
the  anxiety  in  the  mother's  eyes  as  she  watched  her  husband's  aging 
face.  He  had  returned  from  a  business-trip  of  ten  days  or  so  looking 
hopeful  and  buoyant,  and  had  gone  to  the  office  the  following  morning 
Vol.  XLV.— 23 


342  ^^0  SOLDIERS. 

with  light  step  and  cheery  demeanor,  but  came  home  long  after  the 
dinner-hour  listless  and  dispirited, — a  severe  headache,  he  said,  but  the 
wife  knew  that  it  was  far  more  than  head-  or  heartache.  The  family- 
physician  took  occasion  to  warn  Mr.  Vincent  that  he  was  doing  him- 
self grievous  wrong, — that  his  health  imperatively  demanded  rest  and 
change  of  scene.  Vincent  looked  in  the  good  old  doctor's  face  with  a 
world  of  dumb  misery  in  his  eyes,  and  only  answered,  "  I  will, — I 
will,^in  a  week  or  so.  I  cannot  quit  my  post  just  now.  Clark  is 
taking  his  vacation.  When  he  returns  I'll  go."  And  until  he  could 
accompany  them  Mrs.  Vincent  refused  to  budge ;  and  yet  she  began  to 
urge  that  Mabel  should  start  now.  What  was  to  prevent  her  going  at 
once  and  joining  the  Woodrows  at  Deer  Park?  Clarissa  and  Eleanor 
Woodrow  were  always  such  friends  of  hers.  But  Mabel  begged  that 
she  might  stay  until  both  papa  and  mamma  could  go  too;  she  could 
not  be  content  there  without  them,  or  at  least  without  mother ;  and 
Mrs.  Vincent  could  not  find  the  words  in  which  to  frame  the  cause  of 
her  greatest  apprehension. 

The  one  man  whom  the  heat  was  powerless  to  subdue  was  Gordon 
Noel.  In  the  most  immaculate  and  becoming  costumes  of  white  or 
straw  color,  that  genial  officer  would  saunter  into  the  club  at  noontide, 
looking  provokingly  cool  and  comfortable,  and,  as  he  expressed  it, 
"  without  having  turned  a  hair." 

"  Hot !"  he  would  say.  "  Call  this  hot  ?  Why,  bless  your  hearts, 
fellows,  you  ought  to  live  in  Arizona  awhile !  Gad !  I've  come  in 
sometimes  from  a  scout  through  the  Gila  desert  and  rushed  for  cold 
cream  to  plaster  on  my  nose  and  cheeks :  it  would  be  all  melted,  of 
course ;  but  when  I  clapped  it  on  it  would  sizzle  just  like  so  much' 
lard  in  a  frying-pan.  And  down  at  Fort  Yuma  our  hens  laid  hard- 
boiled  eggs  from  June  to  October."  And  then  his  eyes  would  twinkle 
with  fun,  and  he  would  bury  his  dark  moustache  in  the  cracked  ice  of 
his  julep  with  infinite  relish. 

"I  say,"  queried  Mr.  Morris  of  his  chum,  Terry  junior,  one  lan- 
guid afternoon  after  Noel  had  jauntily  strolled  away,  "  don't  you  envy 
a  feller  who  can  enjoy  life  like  that  ?" 

"  Never  saw  anything  like  it !"  quoth  the  younger.  "  One  w-ould 
suppose  that  after  being  a  slave  all  mawning  in  those  beastly  works 
I  ought  to  enjoy  a  little  recreation ;  but  I  can't,  you  know." 

"  Queer  ducks,  those  army  fellers.  Gad  !  this  love-making  by 
proxy  is  what  gets  me, — this  sort  of  Miles  Standish  courtship  business. 
She's  prettier,  though,  than  the  original  Priscilla." 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?"  queried  young  Terry,  vaguely.  He  had 
been  brought  up  under  the  thumb  of  his  elder  brother,  and,  from  the 
outset,  had  been  given  to  understand  that  if  he  expected  to  share  in  the 
profits  he  must  learn  the  business.  There  had  been  no  college  for  him, 
and  New'  England  legends  were  sealed  books. 

"  Why,  I  mean  that  'twouldn't  surprise  me  a  bit  if  we  had  a  mod- 
ern version  of  the  old  '  Why  don't  you  speak  for  yourself,  John  ?' 
He's  with  her  incessantly." 

"  Oh !  Miss  Vincent  you're  speaking  of.  Her  name's  Mabel,  I 
thought,  not — what'd  you  call  her?" 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  343 

"  Never  mind,  Jimmy,"  said  Morris,  rising.  "  Come  and  have  a 
cigarette." 

And  it  was  not  only  in  the  club,  over  their  cigars,  that  men 
spoke  significantly  of  Noel's  attentions  to  the  lovely  daughter  of  the 
house  of  Vincent.  It  was  not  the  men,  indeed,  who  did  the  greater 
part  of  the  talk.  If  they  noticed  and  spoke  of  it,  what  must  not  the 
women  have  been  saying  !  Noel,  quitting  the  hospitable  roof  of  Cousin 
Amos,  had  taken  rooms  down  in  town,  midway  between  the  club  and 
the  Vincent  homestead,  and  those  two  points  became  the  limits  of 
his  field  of  action.  The  Withers  household  had  gone  to  the  Mary- 
land mountains,  and  the  massive  master  of  the  establishment  was 
treating  himself  to  a  month's  vacation.  Almost  all  the  pretty  girls 
were  gone.  What  more  natural  than  that  Mr.  Noel  should  so  fre- 
quently seek  the  society  of  the  prettiest  of  all,  even  if  she  were 
engaged  to  Frederick  Lane,  as  people  said  she  was  before  he  went 
away?  There  was  no  monitorial  Amos  to  call  him  off,  no  one  to 
bid  him  turn  his  devotions  elsewhere ;  and  she  herself  could  see  no 
harm,  for  was  not  almost  all  his  talk  of  Captain  Lane?  was  he  not 
his  loyal  and  devoted  friend  ?  The  captain's  letters  came  every  day, 
and  he  seemed  pleased  to  know  that  Noel  had  such  pleasant  things  to 
say  of  him,  and  was  so  attentive, — or  rather  kind,  because  it  wasn't 
really  on  her  account  that  he  came  so  frequently.  To  be  sure.  Cap- 
tain Lane  did  not  say  much  about  the  matter  one  way  or  the  other; 
and  if  he  saw  no  harm,  if  he  expressed  no  dissatisfaction,  who  else  had 
any  right  to  find  fault? 

Her  mother,  was  the  answer  that  conscience  pricked  into  her  heart 
quicker  even  than  she  could  think.  For  days  past  the  good  lady's 
manner  to  Noel  had  been  gaining  in  distance  and  coolness.  "  She  is 
ill  at  ease, — worried  about  papa,"  was  Mabel's  attempt  at  a  self-satis- 
fying plea ;  but  conscience  again  warned  her  that  she  knew  better, — far 
better.  Her  father,  engrossed  in  business  cares  that  seemed  only  to 
increase  with  every  day,  had  no  eyes  or  ears  for  affairs  domestic;  and 
so  it  resulted  that  when  Noel  came  sauntering  in  at  evening  with  his 
jaunty,  debonair,  joyous  manner,  there  was  no  one  to  receive  him  but 
Mabel,  and  he  wanted  no  one  more. 

"Does  Captain  Lane  know  of  thisand  approve  it?"  was  the  grave 
question  her  mother  had  at  last  propounded. 

"  I  have  written  to  him  with  the  utmost  frankness,  mother,"  was 
Miss  Vincent's  reply,  while  a  wave  of  color  swept  over  her  face  and  a 
rebellious  light  gleamed  in  her  eyes,  "  and  he  has  never  hinted  at  such 
a  thing  as  disapproval.  He  has  more  confidence  in  me  than  you  have. 
If  he  had  not " 

But  the  rest  was  left  unsaid. 

Poor  Mrs.  Vincent !  She  turned  away,  well  knowing  that  argu- 
ment or  opposition  in  such  matters  was  mistaken  policy.  The  words 
that  sprung  to  her  lips  were,  "Alas !  he  does  not  know  you  as  I  do  !" 
but  she  shut  those  lips  firmly,  rigorously  denying  herself  the  feminine 
luxury  of  the  last  word  and  the  launching  of  a  Parthian  arrow  that 
would  have  made,  indeed,  a  telling  shot.  If  heaven  is  what  it  is 
painted,  there  can  be  no  more  joy  over  the  sinner  that  repenteth  than 


344  '^WO  SOLDIERS. 

over  the  woman  who  tramples  down  her  fiercest  temptation  and 
"  bridleth  her  tongue."     Mrs.  Vincent  deserved  to  be  canonized. 

And  meantime  how  went  the  world  with  Lane?  Faithful,  honest, 
simple-hearted  man  that  he  was,  holding  himself  in  such  modest  esti- 
mate, marvelling  as  he  often  did  over  the  fact  that  he  could  have  really 
won  the  love  of  a  being  so  radiant,  so  exquisite,  as  Mabel,  he  lived  in 
a  dream  that  was  all  bliss  and  beauty,  except  for  the  incessant  and  all- 
pervading  longing  to  see  her, — to  be  near  her.  He  loved  her  with  an 
intensity  that  he  had  no  means  of  expressing.  Not  a  waking  instant 
was  she  absent  from  his  thoughts,  and  in  his  dreams  she  appeared  to 
him,  crowned  with  a  halo  such  as  never  angel  knew.  He  used 
to  lie  awake  at  times  in  the  dead  hours  of  the  night,  wondering 
if  the  very  newsboys  and  workmen  of  the  city  realized  their  blessed 
privilege,  that  they  could  step  upon  the  flagstones  her  little  foot 
had  pressed,  that  they  could  see  her  face,  perhaps  hear  her  voice, 
as  she  strolled  in  the  cool  of  evening  along  the  gravelled  path- 
way of  the  little  park  that  adjoined  her  home.  Loving  her  as  he 
did,  his  heart  went  out  to  any  one  who  knew  her  or  was  even  familiar 
with  the  city  where  she  dwelt.  He  had  felt  for  years  a  contempt  for 
Gordon  Noel  that,  at  times,  he  had  difficulty  in  disguising.  Now  he 
was  tempted  to  write  to  him,  to  shut  out  the  past,  to  open  confi- 
dential relations  and  have  him  write  long  letters  that  should  tell  of 
her.  There  were  three  men  in  his  troop  in  whom  he  felt  a  vague, 
mysterious  interest  simply  because  they  had  been  enlisted  at  the  old 
rendezvous  on  Sycamore  Street,  only  three  squares  from  her  home. 
He  was  so  full  of  hope  and  faith  and  love  and  gratitude  that  the  whole 
garrison  seemed  to  hold  naught  but  cheer  and  friendliness.  He  never 
dreamed  of  the  stories  the  men  were  telling  or  the  confidences  women 
'were  whispering  about  the  post.  Noel  had  written  again  to  Mrs.  Riggs, 
and  Mrs.  Riggs  had  not  spared  her  information.  It  was  now  said  in 
Queen  City  society  that  the  engagement  was  of  Mr.  Vincent's  making. 
He  had  been  associated  with  I^ane  in  some  speculations  that  proved 
disastrous,  but  the  captain  had  shown  such  command  of  money  and  had 
"  put  up"  at  such  an  opportune  moment  that  they  came  out  in  good 
shape  after  all,  and  as  soon  as  the  old  man  found  that  Lane  loved  his 
daughter  he  insisted  on  her  accepting  him.  The  information  about 
Lane's  coming  to  the  rescue  with  money  he  had  heard  from  Mr. 
Vincent  himself, — as  indeed  he  had.  One  evening  when  they  were  for 
the  moment  alone,  in  a  burst  of  confidence  to  the  man  whom  he  believed 
to  be  a  devoted  friend  of  his  prospective  son-in-law,  Vincent  had  told 
the  silent  officer  the  story  of  that  perilous  crisis  and  of  Lane's  prompt 
and  generous  loan, — but  not  as  Noel  told  it  to  Mrs.  Riggs. 

"  Do  not  distress  yourself,  my  darling  one,"  wrote  Lane  to  his 
fiancee,  "  because  your  letters  are  a  little  less  frequent  just  now.  I  know 
how  occupied  you  must  be  with  preparation,  and  how  anxious  you  are 
about  the  dear  old  father.  Next  week  you  will  be  in  the  mountains  ; 
and  then,  as  you  say,  people  will  give  you  time  to  write,  and  then,  too, 
I  shall  be  happy  in  your  regaining  health  and  spirits.  The  papers  tell 
me  how  intense  has  been  the  heat :  it  almost  equals  ours  here  in  one 
way,  and  is  much  worse  in  being  moist  and  muggy.     There  is  a  pros- 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  345 

pect  of  my  going  on  a  two  weeks'  scout  with  my  whole  troop  early  in 
the  month  ;  but  your  letters  will  reach  me  safely." 

Why  was  it  that  she  should  experience  a  feeling  almost  of  relief 
in  reading  that  he  was  going  to  be  absent  from  the  garrison  awhile, — 
going  out  on  a  two  weeks'  scout  ? 

She  had  sent  him,  as  she  promised,  a  lovely  cabinet  photograph  of 
herself  that  had  been  taken  expressly  for  him.  It  came  to  the  old 
frontier  fort  just  as  the  men  were  marching  up  from  evening  stables, 
and  the  messenger,  distributing  the  mail  about  the  post,  handed  the 
packet  to  the  captain  as  he  stood  with  a  little  knot  of  comrades  on  the 
walk.  There  was  instant  demand  that  he  should  open  it  and  show  the 
picture  to  them,  but,  blushing  like  a  girl,  he  broke  away  and  hid  him- 
self in  his  room ;  and  then,  when  sure  of  being  uninterrupted,  he  took 
it  to  the  window  and  feasted  his  eyes  upon  the  exquisite  face  and  form 
there  portrayed.  He  kept  it  from  that  time  in  a  silken  case,  which  he 
locked  in  a  bui'eau  drawer  whenever  he  left  the  house,  but  in  the  even- 
ings, or  when  writing  at  his  desk,  he  brought  it  forth  to  light  again 
and  set  it  where  every  moment  he  could  look  upon  and  almost  wor- 
ship it. 

And  then  came  her  letters  announcing  their  safe  arrival  at  Deer 
Park  : 

"  Our  journey  was  most  trying,  for  the  heat  was  intolerable  until 
we  got  well  up  among  the  mountains.  Papa  came ;  but  I  know  he 
is  simply  fretting  his  heart  out  with  anxiety  to  get  back  to  the  office. 
Mr.  Clark  only  returned  from  his  vacation  the  day  we  started.  Gordon 
Noel  came  down  to  the  train  to  see  us  off,  and  brought  mother  a  basket 
of  such  luscious  fruit.  He  says  that  he  has  no  home  to  go  to,  now  that 
we  are  gone.  Indeed,  he  has  been  very  thoughtful  and  kind,  and  I 
don't  think  he  is  quite  happy,  despite  his  efforts  to  be  always  gay  and 
cheerful.  .  .  . 

"  Do  you  really  mean  that  you  will  be  gone  a  fortnight  ?  How  I 
shall  miss  your  dear  letters,  Fred  !  And  now  indeed  I  will  try  to 
write  regularly.  There's  no  one  here  I  care  anything  about,  though 
the  hotel  seems  very  full,  and  there  is  much  dancing  and  gayety.  You 
say  my  letters  will  reach  you ;  but  I  wonder  how." 

Lane  read  this  with  a  sigh  of  relief.  He  had  persuaded  himself 
that  it  was  because  he  dreaded  the  effect  of  the  long-continued  hot 
weather  upon  her  that  he  so  desired  her  to  get  to  the  mountains.  Any 
other  thought  would  have  been  disloyalty  to  his  queen.  He  wished — 
just  a  little  bit — that  she  had  not  written  of  him  as  Gordon  Noel : 
he  much  preferred  that  she  should  call  him  Captain,  She  would  not 
write  so  fully  and  frankly  of  him  if  he  were  anything  but  friendly,  he 
argued,  and  she  would  not  tolerate  his  visits  on  any  other  grounds. 
Yet  she  did  not  tell  him  that  they  had  walked  up  and  down  the  plat- 
form together  for  ten  minutes  before  the  train  started,  and  that  when 
it  was  time  to  part  he  had  bent  down  and  said,  almost  in  a  whisper, — 

"  Do  you  want  to  send  a  message  for  me  to  Fred  Lane  in  your  next 
letter?" 

"  I  will  do  so,  if  you  wish,"  she  murmured  ;  but  her  eyes  fell  be- 
fore the  gaze  in  his,  and  the  hot  blood  rushed  to  her  face. 


346  'PWO  SOLDIERS. 

"  Tell  him  there's  no  man  in  all  the  regiment  I  so  loug  to  see,  and 
no  man  in  all  the  world — I  so  envy." 

Probably  conscience  smote  her,  for  during  the  week  that  followed 
five  letters  came, — five  letters  in  seven  days !  His  heart  went  wild 
with  delight  over  their  tenderness.  The  last  was  written  Saturday, 
and  then  none  came  for  three  days ;  and  when  the  fourth  day  came 
and  brought  the  louged-for  missive  it  was  a  disappointment,  somehow. 

"  Papa  left  us  to  go  back  to  the  office  last  night,"  she  wrote.  "  He 
could  stand  it  no  longer.  I  fear  it  did  him  little  good  here.  The 
Witherses  came  on  Saturday,  and  that  strange  girl.  Miss  Marshall, 
is  with  them.  She  always  impresses  me  with  the  idea  that  she  is 
striving  to  read  my  thoughts.  She  speaks  so  admiringly  of  you, 
and  says  you  were  '  so  courteous'  to  her  the  night  you  dined  at  the 
Witherses' ;  and  I  do  not  remember  your  ever  saying  anything  about 
her  to  me.  You  see,  sir,  I  am  much  more  communicative  about  my 
friends. 

"  We  had  such  a  delightful  surprise  Saturday  night.  Who  should 
appear  in  the  hop-room  but  Gordon  Noel?  He  stayed  until  the  mid- 
night train  Sunday;  and  I  really  was  very  glad  to  see  him." 

And  here  Lane  stopped  reading  for  a  while. 

XI. 

For  some  reason  or  other,  the  scout  which  Lane's  company  had  been 
ordered  to  hold  itself  in  readiness  to  make  was  postponed,  no  further 
orders  coming  from  Department  head-quarters  which  required  sending 
any  troops  into  the  mountains  west  of  Fort  Graham.  The  captain,  far 
from  being  disappointed,  seemed  strangely  relieved  that  he  was  not  re- 
quired to  take  his  troop  into  the  field  at  that  particular  moment.  "  Some- 
thing had  happened,"  said  Mrs.  Breese,  who  was  a  keen  observer, 
"  to  change  the  spirit  of  his  dream  within  the  last  few  days."  His  face 
lacked  the  radiant  and  joyous  look  that  it  had  had  ever  since  he  came 
back  from  the  East.  "  Is  he  getting  an  inkling  of  the  stories  that  are 
in  circulation?"  was  the  natural  inquiry.  "Is  he  beginning  to  learn 
tliat  others  were  before  him  in  that  fair  charmer's  regard?"  Still,  no 
one  could  question  him.  There  was  something  about  him,  with  all  his 
frankness  and  kindliness,  that  held  people  aloof  from  anything  like 
confidence.  He  never  had  a  confidant  of  either  sex;  and  this  was 
something  that  rendered  hira  at  one  time  somewhat  unpopular  among 
the  women.  Younger  officers  almost  always,  as  a  rule,  had  chosen 
some  one  of  the  married  ladies  of  the  regiment  as  a  repositary  of  their 
cares  and  anxieties,  their  hopes  and  fears;  but  Lane  had  never  in- 
dulged in  any  such  luxury,  and  all  the  better  for  hira  was  it.  Now  it 
was  noticed  with  what  eagerness  and  anxiety  he  watched  for  the  coming 
of  the  mail.  It  was  also  observed  that  during  the  two  weeks  that  fol- 
lowed only  four  letters  were  received  in  her,  by  this  time,  well-known 
superscription.  Lane,  of  course,  reading  the  contents,  could  readily 
account  for  the  scarcity.  Her  letters  were  full  of  descriptions  of  dances 
and  picnics  and  riding-parties  to  the  neighboring  mountains.  They 
had  met  scores  of  pleasant  people,  and  had  become  acquainted  with  a 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  347 

large  circle  from  all  parts  of  the  country.  They  danced  every  evening 
regularly  in  the  hop-room,  and  were  so  thoroughly  acquainted,  and  so 
accustomed  to  one  another's  moods  and  fancies,  that  hardly  an  hour 
passed  in  which  they  were  not  occupied  in  some  pleasant  recreation. 
Lawn-tennis  had  always  been  a  favorite  game  of  hers,  and  her  mother 
was  glad,  she  said,  to  see  her  picking  it  up  again  with  such  alacrity. 
The  open  air  was  doing  her  good:  her  color  was  returning;  the  lan- 
guor and  weakness  which  had  oppressed  her  when  she  first  arrived 
after  the  long  hot  spell  at  home  had  disappeared  entirely.  But  with 
returning  health  came  all  the  longing  for  out-door  active  occupation, 
and,  instead  of  having,  as  she  had  planned,  hours  in  which  to  write  to 
him,  almost  all  her  time  now  was  taken  up  in  joyous  sports,  in  horse- 
back-rides, in  long  drives  over  the  mountain-roads  and  through  the 
beautiful  scenery  by  which  they  were  surrounded.  "And  so,"  she 
said,  "  Fred,  dear,  in  regaining  health  and  color,  I  fear,  your  Mabel 
has  very  sadly  neglected  you." 

His  reply  to  her  letter  telling  him  of  Mr.  Noel's  unexpected  ap- 
pearance at  the  Park  was  rather  a  difficult  one  for  him  to  write.  It 
was  dawning  upon  him  that  the  attentions  of  his  regimental  comrade 
to  his  Jiancie  were  not  as  entirely  platonic  as  they  might  be.  Desire 
to  show  all  courtesy  and  kindliness  to  the  lady-love  of  another  officer 
was  all  very  well  in  its  way,  but  it  did  not  necessitate  daily  calls  when 
at  home,  and  far  less  did  it  warrant  his  leaving  his  station  without  per- 
mission— running  the  risk  of  a  reprimand,  or  even  possible  court-mar- 
tial— and  taking  a  long  journey,  being  absent  from  his  post  all  Satur- 
day and  certainly  not  returning  there  before  the  afternoon  of  Monday. 
If  this  were  known  at  the  head-quarters  of  the  recruiting  service, 
Lieutenant  Noel  in  all  probability  would  be  rapped  severely  over  the 
knuckles,  if  nothing  worse.  Lane  could  not,  and  would  not,  for 
an  instant  blame  his  fiancee,  but  he  gently  pointed  out  to  her  that 
Mr.  Noel  ran  great  risks  in  making  such  a  journey,  and  that  it 
would  be  well  on  that  account  to  discourage  similar  expeditions  in 
the  future.  To  this  she  made  no  direct  reply  ;  but  that  she  observed 
his  caution  is  quite  possible.  At  all  events,  no  further  mention  of 
visits  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Noel  appeared  in  any  of  the  letters  which 
reached  him  before  the  orders  for  the  scout  actually  did  arrive ;  but 
that  was  not  until  near  the  very  end  of  the  mouth.  It  was  just  about 
the  28th  of  August  when  rumors  came  of  turbulence  and  threatened 
outbreak  among  the  Indians  at  the  Chiricahua  Reservation.  Troops 
were  already  marching  thither  from  the  stations  in  Arizona,  and 
Captain  Lane  was  ordered  to  cross  the  range  and  scout  on  the 
east  side  of  the  reservation,  in  order  to  drive  back  any  renegades 
who  might  be  tempted  to  "  make  a  break."  Just  one  day  before  the 
start  he  was  surprised  at  receiving  a  letter  from  Mrs.  Vincent.  She 
spoke  gladly  of  Mabel's  improved  health  and  appearance ;  she  spoke 
hopefully  of  Mr.  Vincent,  whose  letters,  she  said,  were  more  cheerful 
than  they  had  been,  and  who  had  been  able  to  come  up  and  spend  two 
Sundays  with  them.  Mabel  had  doubtless  told  him  of  Mr.  Noel's  visit, 
and  how  glad  they  were  just  then  to  see  any  face  so  pleasant  and 
familiar.     And  now  she  wished  to  remind  him  of  their  contract  before 


348  'PW'O  SOLDIERS. 

his  leaving  for  the  frontier.  He  doubtless  remembered  that  she  had 
promised  that  in  the  near  future  she  would  give  him  the  reasons  why- 
it  seemed  best  to  her  that  the  engagement  should  not  be  announced. 
It  would  take  a  pretty  long  letter  to  tell  all  the  reasons  why,  so  she 
would  not  venture  upon  that  at  the  moment ;  but  the  necessity  no 
longer  existed,  and  if  he  so  desired  she  would  gladly  have  it  now  made 
known  to  his  relatives,  as  she  would  now  proceed  to  announce  it  to 
Mabel's. 

Lane  was  greatly  rejoiced  at  this.  He  had  been  a  trifle  uneasy 
and  despondent  of  late,  yet  scarcely  knew  why.  Her  letters  were  not 
all  he  had  hoped  they  would  be  by  this  time  ;  but  then  he  did  not 
know  but  that  it  was  all  natural  and  right ;  he  had  never  had  love- 
letters  before, — had  never  seen  them, — and  his  ideas  of  what  a  woman's 
letters  to  her  betrothed  should  be  were  somewhat  vague  and  undefined. 
However,  there  was  no  one  in  the  garrison  to  whom  he  specially  cared 
to  formally  announce  his  engagement.  People  had  ceased  of  late 
making  remarks  or  inquiries,  as  nothing  had  been  successful  in  extract- 
ing information  from  him  in  the  past.  Giving  directions  that  his  mail 
should  be  forwarded  once  a  week,  or  twice  a  week  if  possible,  to  the 
railway-station  nearest  the  Chiricahua  Mountains,  where  he  could  get 
it  by  sending  couriers  once  in  a  while,  provided  there  was  no  danger  in 
doing  so,  Lane  marched  away  one  evening  on  what  proved  to  be  an 
absence  of  an  entire  month.  He  never  again  saw  Fort  Graham  until 
the  end  of  September,  and  then  only  long  enough  to  enable  him  to 
change  from  his  scouting-rig  into  travelling  costume,  to  throw  a  few 
clothes  into  a  trunk,  and  to  drive  to  the  railway-station  as  fast  as 
the  ambulance  could  carry  him,  in  order  to  catch  the  first  express-train 
going  East. 

Nothing  of  very  great  importance  had  occurred  on  the  scout.  A 
few  renegades  managed  to  escape  eastward  from  the  reservation  and 
to  take  to  the  mountains,  through  which  Lane's  command  was  then 
scouting;  and  to  him  and  to  his  troop  was  intrusted  the  duty  of  cap- 
turing and  bringing  them  back  to  the  reservation.  This  took  him 
many  a  long  mile  south  of  the  railway.  It  was  three  weeks  and 
more  before  he  made  his  way  to  the  reservation  with  his  prisoners. 
There  he  found  a  small  package  of  letters  which  had  been  forwarded 
direct  from  Graham,  where  they  evidently  knew  that  he  would  go  into 
the  Agency  before  reaching  the  railway,  where  his  other  letters  were 
probably  awaiting  him.  Among  those  which  he  received  was  one 
from  Mr.  Vincent.  Briefly,  it  said  to  him,  "  If  a  possible  thing,  come 
to  us  as  soon  as  you  can  obtain  leave  of  absence.  There  are  matters 
which  excite  ray  greatest  apprehension,  and  I  feel  that  I  must  see  you. 
My  health,  I  regret  to  say,  is  failing  me  rapidly.  Come,  if  you  can." 
Another  was  from  Mrs.  Vincent :  she  spoke  with  great  anxiety  of  Mr. 
Vincent's  waning  health ;  said  very  little  of  Mabel,  nothing  whatever 
of  Mr.  Noel.  She  told  him  that  the  engagement  had  been  formally 
announced  to  all  their  relatives,  and  that  letters  of  congratulation  had 
been  showered  on  Mabel  from  all  sides, — although  there  was  some 
little  surprise  expressed  that  she  should  marry  an  army  officer.  "  She, 
herself,  has  not  been  well  at  all,  and  I  really  believe  that  a  visit  from 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  349 

you  would  do  much  to  restore  her  heahh  and  spirits.     She  has  been 
unlike  herself  ever  since  we  came  back  from  the  mountains." 

In  this  same  package  of  letters  were  two  from  Mabel,  These  he 
read  with  infinite  yearning  in  his  heart,  and  they  only  served  to  increase 
the  wordless  anxiety  and  the  intolerable  sense  of  something  lacking 
which  he  had  first  felt  after  the  letter  that  announced  Gordon  Noel's 
visit  to  Deer  Park.  One  more  letter  there  was :  this  he  opened,  saw 
that  it  was  type-written  and  had  no  signature,  indignantly  tore  it  into 
fragments,  and  tossed  them  to  the  wind. 

The  commanding  general  of  the  Department — an  old  and  kind 
friend  of  Lane's — was  then  looking  over  affairs  for  himself,  at  the 
reservation.  Lane  obtained  a  few  moments'  conversation  with  him, 
briefly  stated  his  needs,  and  showed  him  Mr.  Vincent's  letter.  The 
instant  the  general  saw  the  signature  he  looked  up,  startled,  and  then 
arose  from  his  seat,  put  his  hand  on  the  captain's  shoulder,  and  drew 
him  to  one  side. 

^'  My  dear  boy,"  he  said,  "  there  is  later  news  than  this.  It  is 
dated  September  14,  you  see.     Have  you  heard  nothing  more  ?" 

"  Nothing,  general.  What  has  happened  ?"  answered  Lane,  his 
voice  trembling  and  his  bronzed  face  rapidly  paling.  "  Am  I — am  I 
too  late?" 

"  I  fear  so.  Lane.     Had  Mr.  Vincent  a  partner  named  Clark  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir, — his  junior  partner." 

"  Clark  defaulted,  embezzled,  hypothecated  securities  and  heaven 
knows  what  all,  blew  out  his  brains  in  his  private  office,  and  Mr.  Vin- 
cent stumbled  over  the  body  an  hour  afterwards,  was  prostrated  by  the 
shock,  and  died  of  heart-failure  three  days  later.  The  papers  were  full 
of  the  tragedy  for  nearly  a  week ;  but  there  are  none  to  be  had  here, 
I'm  afraid.  Now  you  will  want  to  start  at  once.  Never  mind  your 
troop.  Just  tell  your  lieutenant  to  report  here  to  Captain  Bright 
for  orders,  and  I'll  have  them  sent  back  to  Graham  by  easy  marches." 

Late  at  night  Lane  reached  the  railway,  only  to  find  his  train  five 
hours  behind.  He  telegraphed  to  Mabel  that  he  would  come  to  her  as 
fast  as  train  could  bring  him, — that  the  sad  news  had  onlyjust  reached 
him.  He  strode  for  hours  up  and  down  the  little  platform  under  the 
glittering  stars,  yearning  to  reach  her,  to  comfort  and  console  her  in 
this  bitter  sorrow.  Time  and  again  he  turned  over  in  mind  the  few 
particulars  which  he  had  obtained  from  tlie  Department  commander. 
They  were  all  too  brief,  but  pointed  conclusively  to  one  fact, — that 
Clark  had  been  encouraged  by  the  success  of  June  to  plunge  still  more 
deeply,  in  the  hope  of  retrieving  the  losses  of  the  past  two  years. 
Luckily  for  Vincent,  he  had  used  his  June  winnings  in  lifting 
the  mortgage  from  his  homestead  and  in  taking  up  any  of  his  out- 
standing paper,  and  so  had  little  wherewith  to  supply  his  confident 
partner;  but  Lane  wondered  if  the  kindly  old  man  had  any  idea  that 
up  to  the  end  of  August,  at  least,  Clark  had  not  sent  to  him,  as 
directed,  "  the  draft  for  the  entire  amount"  to  which  referred  the  first 
letter  Mr.  Vincent  had  ever  written  him. 

It  was  daybreak  when  the  train  came.  It  was  noon  when  he  sprang 
from  the  cars  at  Graham  Station  and  into  the  ambulance  sent  to  meet 


350  ^^0  SOLDIERS. 

him  in  response  to  his  telegraphic  request.  Were  there  any  letters  ?  he 
eagerly  asked.  None  now.  A  small  package  had  been  forwarded  to 
the  reservation  last  night,  and  must  have  passed  him  on  the  way. 
Others  had  been  waiting  for  him  at  the  mountain-station  until  he  was 
reported  by  wire  as  arriving  with  his  prisoners  at  the  Agency.  Every- 
thing then  had  been  sent  tliither,  and  there  would  be  no  getting  them 
before  starting.  At  Graham  the  telegraph  operator  showed  him  the 
duplicates  of  the  telegrams  that  had  come  for  him  in  his  absence, — 
only  two.  One  announced  Mr.  Clark's  suicide  and  Vincent's  prostra- 
tion and  danger ;  the  other,  two  days  later,  briefly  read,  '•'  Mr.  Vincent 
died  this  morning.     Mrs.  Vincent  and  Mabel  fairly  well." 

Both  were  signed  "  Gordon  Noel,"  and  a  jealous  pang  shot  through 
the  })oor  fellow's  heart  as  he  realized  that  in  all  their  bereavement  and 
grief  it  was  Noel's  privilege  to  be  with  them  and  to  be  of  use  to  them, 
while  he,  her  affianced  husband,  was  far  beyond  hail.  He  was  ashamed 
of  his  own  thoughts  an  instant  after,  and  bitterly  upbraided  himself 
that  he  was  not  thankful  that  they  could  have  had  so  attentive  and 
thoughtful  an  aid  as  Noel  well  knew  how  to  be.  Yet — why  was  not 
Reginald  sufficient? 

He  had  torn  into  fragments  the  anonymous  sheet  that  had  met  him 
at  the  reservation,  and  yet  its  words  were  gnawing  at  his  heartstrings 
now,  and  he  could  not  crush  them  down  : 

"  Why  was  your  engagement  denied  ?  Because  she  still  cared  for 
Will  Rossiter  and  hoped  he  might  come  back  to  her  after  all. 

"  Why  did  Gordon  Noel  stay  at  the  other  hotel  the  second  and 
third  times  he  spent  Sunday  at  Deer  Park  ?  Because  she  wished  to 
hide  from  her  mother,  as  she  did  from  you,  that  he  came  at  all. 

"  Why  does  she  meet  him  on  the  street  instead  of  at  home  ? 
Because  her  father  interposed  in  your  behalf;  but  all  the  same  you  are 
being  betrayed." 

These  words — or  others  exactly  of  their  import,  were  what  met  his 
startled  eyes  at  Chiricahua,  but  the  instant  he  noted  that  these  carefully 
type-written  sentences  were  followed  by  no  signature  at  all, — not  even 
the  oft-abused  "  A  Friend," — indignation  and  wrath  followed  close  on 
the  heels  of  his  amaze,  and  in  utter  contempt  he  had  destroyed  the 
cowardly  sheet ;  but  he  could  not  so  easily  conquer  the  poison  thus 
injected  in  his  veins.  All  the  long,  long  journey  to  the  East  they 
haunted  him,  dancing  before  his  eyes,  sleeping  or  waking,  and  it  was 
'with  haggard  face  and  wearied  frame  that  he  reached  the  Queen  City, 
and,  taking  a  cab,  drove  at  once  to  her  home. 

It  was  a  lovely  evening  in  early  October.  The  sun  had  been 
shining  brilliantly  all  day  long,  and  almost  everywhere  doors  and 
windows  were  open  to  woo  the  cool  air  now  gently  stirring.  The  cab 
stopped  before  the  well-remembered  steps,  and  Lane  hastened  to  the 
broad  door-way.  No  need  to  ring  :  the  portals  stood  invitingly  open. 
The  gas  burned  brightly  in  the  hall  and  in  the  sitting-room  to  the  left. 
He  entered  unhesitatingly,  and  stood  all  alone  in  the  room  where  he 
had  spent  so  many  happy  hours  listening  to  the  music  of  her  voice, 
watching  the  play  and  animation  in  her  lovely  face.  He  cauglit  a 
glimpse  of  his  own,  gaunt,  haggard,  hollow-eyed,  in  the  mirror  over 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  351 

the  old-fashioned  mantel.  What  was  he,  that  he  should  have  won  a 
creature  so  radiant,  so  exquisite,  as  the  girl  who  had  made  these  silent 
rooms  a  heaven  to  him?  There  was  the  heavy  portiere  that  shut  off 
the  little  passage  to  the  library.  His  foot-fall  made  no  sound  in  the 
deep,  rich  carpeting.  It  was  there  she  welcomed  him  that  wonderful 
Friday  afternoon, — that  day  that  was  the  turning-point,  the  climax, 
of  his  life.  Hark  !  was  that  her  voice,  low,  sweet,  tremulous,  in  there 
now?  Hush!  Was  that  a  sob? — a  woman's  suppressed  weeping? 
Quickly  he  stepped  forward,  and  in  an  instant  had  thrust  aside  the 
second  portiere;  but  he  halted  short  at  the  threshold,  petrified  by  the 
scene  before  him. 

Mabel  Vincent,  clasped  in  Gordon  Noel's  embrace,  her  arms  about 
his  neck,  gazing  up  into  his  face  with  almost  worship  in  her  weeping 
eyes,  raised  her  lips  to  meet  the  passionate  kiss  of  his.  "  My  darling," 
he  murmured,  "  what  can  you  fear?  Have  you  not  given  me  the 
right  to  protect  you  ?"  And  the  handsome  head  was  tossed  proudly 
back  and  for  one  little  minute  was  indeed  heroic.  Then,  with  instan- 
taneous change,  every  drop  of  blood  fled  from  his  face,  leaving  it  ashen, 
death -like. 

"  Gordon  .'"  she  cried,  "  what  is  it  ?     Are  you  ill  ?" 
Then,  following  the  glance  of  his  staring  eyes,  she  turned,  and  saw, 
and  swooned  away. 

XII. 

A  dreary  winter  was  that  of  188-  at  old  Fort  Graham.  Captain 
Breese  became  major  of  the  — th,  and  his  troop  was  ordered  to  exchange 
with  K,  which  had  been  so  long  at  head-quarters,  and  this  brought 
old  Jim  Rawlins  up  to  take  command  of  the  little  cavalry  battalion  at 
"  the  oasis."  There  were  many  of  the  officers — Rawlins  among  them — 
who  thought  that  after  his  success  with  "  the  Devil's  Own,"  as  D  Troop 
had  been  called,  Lane  was  entitled  to  enjoy  the  position  of  battalion 
commander ;  but  Mrs.  Riggs  had  promptly  asserted  her  belief  that  he 
was  not  in  position  to  enjoy  anything.  He  had  come  back  to  the  post 
late  in  the  fall,  looking  some  years  older  and  graver;  he  had  been  very 
ill  at  Jefferson  Barracks,  said  letters  from  that  point,  while  waiting  to 
take  out  a  party  of  recruits  to  the  regiment;  he  had  resumed  duty 
without  a  word  to  anybody  of  the  matters  that  had  so  suddenly  called 
him  East,  but  there  was  no  need  of  telling:  they  knew  all  about  it; 
at  least  they  said  and  thought  they  did.  Mrs.  Riggs  had  had  such 
complete  accounts  from  Noel,  and  had  received  such  a  sweet  letter  from 
Miss  Vincent  in  reply  to  the  one  she  had  written  congratulating  her 
upon  her  engagement  to  her  (Mrs.  Riggs's)  ^'favorite  among  all  the 
officers, — and  the  colonel's,  too."  "  She  was  so  sorry — so  painfully  dis- 
tressed— about  Captain  Lane,"  said  Mrs.  Riggs.  "  She  never  really 
cared  for  him.  It  was  gratitude  and  propinquity,  and  pleasure  in  his 
attentions,  that  she  mistook  for  love ;  but  she  never  knew  what  love 
was  until  she  met  Gordon.  They  were  to  be  married  early  in  the 
spring,  and  would  take  only  a  brief  tour,  for  he  had  to  be  at  his  station. 
She  dreaded  coming  to  the  regiment,  though  she  would  follow  Gordon 
to  the  end  of  the  world  if  he  said  so,  for  she  knew  there  were  people 


352  TWO  SOLDIERS. 

who  would  blame  her  for  breaking  with  Captain  Lane  as  she  had  to ; 
but  she  knew  long  before  she  did  so  that  they  could  never  be  happy 
together.  She  had  written  to  him,  telling  him  all,  long  before  he  came 
East  and  they  had  that  dreadful  scene  in  which  Mr.  Noel  had  behaved 
with  such  perfect  self-command  and  such  excessive  consideration  for 
Captain  Lane's  feelings.  Of  course,  as  Gordon  said,  all  possibility  of 
reconciliation  or  future  friendship  between  them  was  at  an  end  unless 
Captain  Lane  humbly  apologized.  She  had  been  mercifully  spared 
hearing  it ;  for  the  fearful  expression  of  his  face  when  they  discovered 
him  listening  at  the  portiere  had  caused  her  to  faint  away,  and  she  only 
came  to,  Gordon  said,  in  time  to  prevent  his  pitching  him  out  of  the 
window,  so  utterly  was  he  tried.  She  was  so  thankful  to  have  in  Mrs. 
Riggs  a  friend  who  would  not  see  Gordon  wronged,  and  who  could  be 
counted  on  to  deny  any  stories  that  poor  Captain  Lane  in  his  dis- 
appointment might  put  in  circulation." 

But  Lane  never  mentioned  the  subject.  As  for  the  letters  to  which 
she  referred,  they  all  followed  him  East  in  one  bundle  and  were  sent 
to  her  unopened ;  and  she  knew  when  she  wrote  to  Mrs.  Eiggs  that, 
though  she  might  have  "  told  him  all,"  as  she  said,  he  never  knew  a 
word  of  it  until  his  eyes  and  ears  revealed  the  truth  that  wretched 
night  in  the  library  where  his  brief,  sweet  love-dream  began  and  ended. 

There  were  other  matters  wherein  Mr.  Noel  himself  was  consulting 
Mrs.  Riggs.  He  was  now  senior  first  lieutenant.  Any  accident  of 
service  might  make  him  a  captain,  and  then,  if  precedent  were  followed, 
"  he  might  be  ordered  to  join  at  once.  Ordinarily,  as  she  well  knew, 
nothing  would  give  him  greater  joy ;  but  now — solely  on  MabePs 
account — he  hesitated.  A  friend  at  the  War  Department  had  said 
that,  if  Colonel  Riggs  would  approve,  a  six  months'  leave  to  visit 
Europe,  for  the  purpose  of  prosecuting  his  professional  studies,  might 
be  obtained.     Would  she  kindly,  etc.,  etc." 

There  was  no  one  to  write  or  speak  for  Lane :  only  one  side  of  the 
story  was  being  told,  and,  though  the  men  had  had  little  else  than 
contempt  for  Noel,  they  were  of  small  account  in  moulding  garrison 
opinions  as  compared  with  two  or  three  determined  women. 

But  no  one  saw  the  sorrowful,  almost  heart-broken,  letter  written 
by  Mrs.  Vincent  to  Lane.  She  had  no  words  in  which  to  speak  of 
Mabel's  conduct.  They  had  both  been  deceived  ;  and  yet  she  implored 
him  for  forgiveness  for  her  child.  The  world  was  all  changed  now. 
Their  home  remained  to  them,  and  her  own  little  fortune,  together  with 
the  wreck  of  Mr.  Vincent's,  but  Regy  had  to  go  out  into  the  world 
and  seek  to  earn  what  he  coukl.  He  had  no  idea  of  business.  There 
was  no  one  to  step  in  and  build  up  the  old  firm,  and  the  executors  had 
advised  that  everything  be  closed  out.  Mr.  Clark's  affairs  had  been 
left  in  lamentable  confusion,  but  luckily  he  had  nothing  else  to  leave, — 
nothing,  that  is,  but  confusion  and  creditors.  People  were  constantly 
importuning  her  for  payment  of  his  liabilities,  claiming  that  they  were 
contracted  by  the  firm.  Her  lawyers  absolutely  forbade  her  listening 
to  such  demands.  If  she  paid  one-fourth  of  them  she  would  have 
nothing  left.  Lane  thought  of  his  sacrificed  Ciieyenne  property  and 
the  little  fortune  he  had  so  freely  <jlfered  up  to  save  to  the  girl  he  loved 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  353 

the  home  in  which  she  had  been  reared.  The  very  roof  under  which 
the  girl  had  plighted  her  troth  to  him  and  then  dishonored  it  for 
Noel — under  which,  day  after  day,  she  was  now  receiving,  welcoming, 
caressing  him — was  practically  rescued  for  her  and  her  mother  by  the 
money  of  the  man  she  had  cast  aside. 

The  wedding-cards  came  in  April.  It  was  to  be  a  quiet  affair, 
because  of  the  death  of  Mr.  Vincent  within  the  year.  Lane  read  the 
announcement  in  the  Army  and  Navy  Journal,  and  sat  for  a  while,  the 
paper  dropping  to  the  floor  and  his  head  upon  his  hands.  Elsewhere 
in  its  columns  he  found  a  full  account,  written  evidently  by  some  one 
thoroughly  well  acquainted  with  all  the  parties,  except  perhaps  the 
gallant  groom. 

When  Lane's  servant  tiptoed  in  at  reveille  the  next  morning 
to  prepare  the  bath  and  black  the  boots,  he  was  surprised  to  find 
that  officer  sitting  at  his  desk  with  his  head  pillowed  in  his  arms.  He 
had  not  been  to  bed,  and  did  not  know  that  reveille  had  sounded.  Was 
he  ill  ?  Did  he  need  the  doctor  ?  No.  He  had  to  sit  up  late  over 
some  letters  and  papers,  and  had  finally  fallen  asleep  there.  All  the 
same  Dr.  Gowen,  happening  into  the  hospital  while  Lane  was  visiting 
one  of  his  men  after  sick-call,  stopped,  and  keenly  examined  his  face. 

"  I  want  you  to  go  right  to  your  quarters  and  stay  there,  Lane,  for 
you've  got  a  fever,  and,  I  believe,  mountain  fever,"  were  his  immediate 
orders.  "  I'll  be  with  you  in  a  moment."  It  was  only  the  beginning 
of  what  proved  to  be  a  trying  illness  of  several  weeks'  duration. 
When  Lane  was  able  to  sit  up  again,  it  was  the  recommendation  of 
the  post-surgeon  and  of  his  regimental  commander  that  he  be  sent  East 
on  sick-leave  for  at  least  three  months.  And  the  first  week  of  June 
found  him  at  West  Point :  he  had  many  old  and  warm  friends  there,  and 
their  companionship  and  cordiality  cheered  him  greatly.  One  night, 
strolling  back  from  parade  to  the  broad  piazza  of  the  hotel,  he  saw  the 
stage  drive  up  from  the  landing  and  a  number  of  visitors  scurry  up  the 
steps  in  haste  to  escape  the  prying  eyes  of  the  older  arrivals,  who  in- 
variably thronged  the  south  piazza  at  such  times  and  curiously  inspected 
the  travel-stained  and  cinder-spotted  faces  of  those  whose  ill  luck  it  was 
to  have  to  run  that  social  gauntlet.  There  was  something  familiar  in 
the  face  of  a  young  lady  following  a  portly  matron  into  the  hall,  and 
when  a  moment  later  he  came  upon  the  massive  frame  of  Mr.  Amos 
Withers,  registering  himself,  his  wife,  daughters,  and  Miss  Marshall,  of 
the  Queen  City,  Lane  knew  at  once  that  it  was  his  friend  of  the  dismal 
dinner  of  nearly  a  year  ago.  Later  that  evening  he  met  her  in  the 
hall,  and  was  surprised  at  the  prompt  and  pleasant  recognition  which 
she  gave  him.  It  was  not  long  before  they  were  on  the  north  piazza, 
watching  that  peerless  view  up  the  Hudson,  and,  finding  that  she  had 
never  been  there  before  and  was  enthusiastic  in  her  admiration  of  the 
scenery.  Lane  took  pleasure  in  pointing  out  to  her  the  various  objects 
of  interest  that  could  be  seen  through  the  brilliant  sheen  of  moonlight. 
And  so,  having  made  himself  at  once  useful  and  entertaining,  he  finally 
went  to  his  bed  with  a  sensation  of  having  passed  rather  a  brighter 
evening  than  he  had  known  in  a  long,  long  time. 

On  the  following  day  Miss  Marshall  was  in  the  hall,  reading, 


354  ^^0  SOLDIERS. 

when  he  came  out  from  breakfast.  She  was  waiting,  she  said,  for  Mi*s. 
Withers  to  come  down.     Tlie  nurse  was  dressing  the  children. 

"  I  want  to  ask  you  something,  Captain  Lane.  I  saw  Mrs.  Vin- 
cent just  before  I  left  home,  and  had  a  little  talk  with  her.  She  has 
always  been  very  kind  to  me.  Did  you  ever  receive  a  letter  she  wrote 
to  you  three  or  four  weeks  ago  ?" 

"  I  never  did,"  said  Lane.  "  Do  you  think  that  she  did  write  to 
me?" 

"  I  know  she  did.  She  told  me  so,  and  expressed  great  surprise 
that  you  had  accorded  her  no  answer.  She  felt  very  sure  of  your 
friendship,  and  she  was  at  a  loss  to  understand  your  silence.  Although 
I  had  only  met  you  once  or  twice  before,  I  felt  that  I  knew  you  so  well 
that  you  could  not  refuse  to  answer  a  letter  from  so  lovable  a  woman  as 
she,  and  I  deemed  it  my  duty  to  let  you  know  what  she  had  told  me. 
I  am  very  glad  now  that  I  did  so." 

"Is  she  at  home?"  asked  Lane,  eagerly. 

"  She  was  when  I  left,  but  they  were  expecting  to  go  to  the  moun- 
tains. Mrs.  Noel  seems  to  be  drooping  a  little.  The  weather  is  very 
warm  there  already,  as  you  know,  and  the  doctor  has  advised  that 
both  ladies  go  up  to  Deer  Park.  Mrs.  Noel  doesn't  wish  to  go,  as  it 
takes  her  so  far  from  her  husband ;  but,  as  he  was  able  to  get  there 
quite  frequently  when  they  were  there  before,  I  see  no  reason  why  he 
should  not  be  able  to  join  tiiem  every  week  now." 

"  Was  he  there  frequently  when  they  w^ere  there  before  ?"  asked 
Lane,  an  old,  dull  pain  gnawing  at  his  heart. 

"  He  was  there  three  or  four  times  to  ray  knowledge  during  our 
stay,  but  of  course  his  visits  were  very  brief:  he  came  generally  Satur- 
day and  Avent  away  at  midnight  Sunday." 

"  I  wall  go  and  telegraph  to  Mrs.  Vincent.  If  need  be,  I  will  go 
and  see  her;  and  I  thank  you  very  much.  Miss  Marshall." 

That  evening  he  received  a  despatch  from  Mrs.  Vincent  in  response 
to  the  one  sent  almost  immediately  after  this  conversation.  "  If  pos- 
sible, come  here.  I  greatly  desire  to  see  you.  Wire  answer."  What 
could  it  mean  ? 

By  the  first  train  on  the  following  morning  he  left  for  New  York, 
and  was  far  on  his  way  to  the  Queen  City  when  sunset  came.  Ar- 
riving there,  he  went  first  to  the  old  hotel,  and,  after  changing  his  dress 
and  removing  the  stains  of  travel,  for  the  first  time  since  his  memora- 
ble visit  of  October  he  mounted  the  broad  stone  steps  and  asked  to  see 
Mrs.  Vincent.  She  came  down  almost  instantly,  and  Lane  was  shocked 
to  see  how  she  had  failed  since  their  last  meeting.  Years  seemed  to 
have  been  added  to  her  age;  her  hair  was  gray;  the  lines  in  her 
gentle,  patient  face  had  deepened.  She  entered,  holding  forth  both 
hands,  but  when  she  looked  into  his  eyes  her  lips  quivered  and  she 
burst  into  tears.  Lane  half  led,  half  supported  her  to  a  chair,  and, 
drawing  one  to  her  side,  spoke  soothingly  to  her.  For  a  few  moments 
she  could  not  speak,  and  when  she  did  he  checked  her. 

"Oh,  you  too  have  aged  and  suffered  !  and  it  is  all  our  doing, — all 
our  doing !"  she  moaned,  as  her  tears  burst  forth  anew. 

"  Never  mind  my  crow's-feet  and  gray  hairs,  dear  lady,"  he  said. 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  355 

"  It  is  high  time  I  began  to  show  signs  of  advancing  age.  Then, 
too,  I  am  just  up  from  a  siege  of  mountain  fever." 

"  Was  that  the  reason  you  did  not  answer  ?"  she  presently  asked. 

"  I  never  got  your  letter,  Mrs.  Vincent.     When  was  it  mailed  ?" 

"  About  the  10th  of  May.  I  remember  it  well,  because — it  was  just 
after  Mabel  and  Captain  Noel  got  back  from  their  tour." 

"  Pardon  me,  but  did  you  post  it  yourself?" 

"  No.  The  postman  always  takes  my  letters.  I  leave  them  on  the 
little  table  in  the  vestibule." 

"  Where  any  one  can  see  them  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  but  who  would  touch  my  letters?" 

Lane  did  not  know,  of  course.  He  was  only  certain  that  nothing 
from  Mrs.  Vincent  had  reached  him  during  the  past  six  months. 

"  Captain  Lane,"  she  said,  at  last,  "  I  want  you  to  tell  me  the  truth. 
Just  after  Mabel's  marriage  I  heard  that  a  story  was  in  circulation  to 
the  effect  that  it  was  your  money  that  enabled  Mr.  Vincent  to  tide  over 
the  crisis  in  his  affairs  a  year  ago.  It  was  even  said  that  you  had  sold 
property  at  a  loss  to  supply  him  with  means ;  and  some  people  in  society 
are  so  cruel  as  to  say  that  Mabel's  trousseau  was  actually  purchased 
with  your  money,  because  it  had  never  been  repaid.  I  know  that  Mr. 
Vincent  often  spoke  of  his  obligation  and  gratitude  to  you.  Tell  me 
truly  and  frankly.  Captain  Lane:  did  you  give  my  husband  money? 
Is  this  story  true  ?" 

"  I  never  gave  Mr.  Vincent  a  cent," 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  thankful !  We  have  been  the  means  of  bringing 
such  sorrow  to  you " 

"  I  beg  you,  make  no  reference  to  that,  Mrs.  Vincent.  Neither  your 
honored  husband  nor  you  have  I  ever  thought  in  the  least  responsible. 
And  as  for  this  other  matter,  you  have  been  misinformed." 

"  What  cruel,  reckless  stories  people  tell !  It  hurt  me  terribly ; 
and  then  when  no  answer  came  to  my  letter  I  felt  that  probably  there 
was  something  in  it,  and  that  you  were  hiding  the  truth  from  me. 
Mabel  heard  it  too ;  but  she  said  that  Captain  Noel  investigated  it  at 
once  and  found  that  it  was  utterly  false.  I  could  not  be  satisfied  until 
I  had  your  own  assurance." 

"And  now  you  have  it,"  he  said,  with  a  smile  that  shone  on  his 
worn  face  and  beamed  about  his  deep-set  eyes  like  sunshine  after  April 
showers.  "  You  are  going  to  be  advised  now,  are  you  not,  and  seek 
change  and  rest  in  the  mountains?" 

"  We  meant  to  go  this  week ;  but  Mrs.  Paterson,  of  Philadelphia, 
is  urging  us  to  spend  the  summer  with  her  at  the  sea-shore,  where  she 
has  a  roomy  cottage.  She  is  a  cousin  of  Captain  Noel's,  and  was  an 
intimate  friend  of  Mabel's  at  school.  That  was  where  my  daughter 
first  heard  of  him.     Oh,  I  wish — I  wish " 

And  here  once  more  Mrs.  Vincent's  tears  poured  forth,  and  it  was 
some  time  before  she  could  control  herself. 

At  last  the  captain  felt  that  he  must  go.  It  was  now  his  purpose  to 
leave  town  as  soon  as  he  could  attend  to  one  or  two  matters  of  business. 

"  Shall  I  not  see  you  again  ?"  she  asked,  as  he  rose  to  take  his  leave. 

"  I  fear  not,"  he  answered.     "  There  is  nothing  to  require  more 


356  '^^O  SOLDIERS. 

than  an  hour  or  two  of  attention  here,  and  then  I  shall  seek  a  cooler 
spot  for  a  few  weeks'  rest,  then  back  to  the  regiment." 

"  But  we — that  is,  I  heard  you  had  three  months'  sick-leave." 

"  Very  true ;  but  I  only  need  one,  and  I  am  best  with  my  troop." 

"  Tell  me,"  she  asked  :  "  is  it  true  that  tliere  is  trouble  brewing  again 
among  the  Indians, — at  San  Carlos,  isn't  it  ?" 

"  There  seems  to  be  bad  blood  among  them,  and  no  doubt  disaffec- 
tion ;  but  if  sufficient  troops  are  sent  to  the  Agency  and  to  scout  around 
the  reservation  they  can  be  held  in  check." 

"  But  I  have  been  tokl  that  you  have  too  small  a  force  to  watch 
them.  I  wish  vou  were  not  going  back ;  but  it  is  like  you.  Captain 
Lane." 

And  so  they  parted.  He  saw  and  heard  and  asked  nothing  of  his 
whilom  fiancee.  He  did  not  wish  to  see  her  husband.  He  meant  to 
have  left  town  that  very  evening,  after  brief  consultation  with  a  real- 
estate  agent  whom  he  had  had  occasion  to  employ  in  his  service ;  but 
even  as  he  was  stowing  his  travelling-"  kit"  in  a  roomy  leather  bag 
there  came  a  knock  at  his  door  and  there  entered  a  man  in  plain  civilian 
dress,  who  motioned  the  bell-boy  to  clear  out,  and  then  held  forth  a 
photograph  : 

"Captain  Lane,  is  that  your  man  Taiutor?" 

"  That  is  certainly  like  the  man,"  was  Lane's  answer,  after  careful 
inspection.     "  Have  you  got  him  ?" 

"  No,  sir.  We  had  him,  and  took  Captain  Noel  to  see  him,  and  the 
captain  said  there  was  some  mistake.  He  wears  his  hair  and  beard 
different  now ;  but  we  know  where  he  is, — at  least,  where  he  was  up  to 
yesterday.  He  left  his  lodgings  at  noon,  and  took  a  bag  with  him,  as 
though  he  meant  to  be  away  a  few  days.  He  does  copying  and  type- 
writing, and  manages  to  get  along  and  support  a  good-looking  young 
woman  who  passes  as  his  wife.  Thafs  what  we  think  brought  him 
back  here  last  winter." 

"Why  didn't  you  take  some  of  the  recruiting-party  to  see  him? 
They  could  identify  him." 

"  All  the  old  men  that  were  with  you  are  gone,  sir.  It's  a  new  lot 
entirely.  They  said  the  sergeant  couldn't  get  along  with  the  captain 
at  all,  and  they  were  all  sent  away." 

"  Where's  the  woman  who  kept  the  lodging-house  for  tlie  party  ?" 

"  She's  gone  too,  sir.  They  moved  away  last  winter  because  Cap- 
tain Noel  gave  the  contract  to  another  party  in  a  different  part  of  the 
town.  We  let  the  thing  slide  for  quite  a  while ;  but  when  the  Chief 
heard  that  you  had  arrived  in  town  he  thought  he'd  shadow  the  fellow 
until  you  could  see  him,  but  he  had  skipped.  Was  there  any  way  he 
could  have  heard  you  were  coming  ?" 

"  No.  I  telegraphed  from  West  Point  to  Mrs.  Vincent.  She  was 
the  only  one  who  knew." 

"Beg  pardon,  sir,  but  isn't  that  Captain  Noel's  mother-in-law? 
The  captain  lives  there,  I  think." 

Lane  turned  sharply  and  studied  the  man's  face.  A  question  was 
at  his  very  tongue's  end, — "  You  do  not  suppose  he  could  have  given 
warning  ?" — but  he  stifled  it,  his  lips  compressing  tight. 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  357 

"  If  you  think  he  has  gone  because  of  my  coming,  I  will  leave  on 
the  late  train,  as  I  purposed,  and  you  can  wire  to  me  when  he  returns. 
Then  keep  him  shadowed  until  I  get  here." 

And  with  this  understanding  they  parted,  Lane  going  at  once  to  a 
cool  resort  on  one  of  the  great  lakes.  Four  days  later  came  the  de- 
spatch he  looked  for,  aud,  accompanied  by  two  detectives,  Lane  knocked 
at  the  indicated  door-way  one  bright,  sunshiny  afternoon  witliin  forty- 
eight  hours  thereafter. 

A  comely  young  woman  opened  the  door  just  a  few  inches  and  in- 
quired what  was  wanted.  "  Mr.  Graves  was  not  at  home."  He  cer- 
tainly would  not  have  been  in  a  minute  more,  for  a  man  swung  out  of 
the  third-story  window,  and,  going  hand  by  hand  down  the  convenient 
lightning-rod,  dropped  into  the  arms  of  a  waiting  officer,  and  that  night 
the  forger  and  deserter  spent  behind  the  bars  in  the  Central  Station. 
The  identification  was  complete. 

Lane  was  to  appear  and  make  formal  cliarge  against  him  the  follow- 
ing morning.  Going  down  to  an  early  breakfast,  he  picked  up  one  of 
the  great  dailits  at  the  news-stand,  and,  after  taking  his  seat  at  table 
aud  ordering  a  light  repast,  he  opened  the  still  moist  sheet.  The  first 
glance  at  the  head-lines  was  enough  to  start  him  to  his  feet.  "  Indian 
Outbreak."  "  The  Apaches  on  tlie  War-Path."  "  Murder  of  Agent 
Curtis  at  San  Carlos."  "  Massacre  of  a  Stage-Load  of  Passengers." 
"  Captain  Rawlins,  Eleventh  Cavalry,  a  victim."  "  Horrible  Atroci- 
ties."    "  Troops  in  Pursuit." 

It  was  the  old,  old  story  briefly  told.  Warnings  disregarded  ; 
official  reports  of  the  neighboring  troop-commanders  pooh-poohed  and 
pigeon-holed  by  functionaries  of  the  Indian  Bureau  ;  a  sudden,  startling 
rush  of  one  body  upon  the  agent  aud  his  helpless  family  ;  a  simuUa- 
neous  dash  from  the  other  end  of  the  reservation  upon  the  scattered 
ranches  in  the  valley ;  a  stage-coach  ambushed ;  a  valued  old  soldier 
butchered  in  cold  blood.  There  was  no  more  thought  of  breakfast  for 
Lane.  He  hurried  to  the  telegraph-office,  thence  to  the  police-station, 
thence  to  an  attorney  whom  he  was  advised  to  employ,  and  by  noon 
he  was  whirling  westward.  "  No  laggard  he"  wlien  the  war-cry  rang 
along  the  blazing  border. 

XIII. 

The  Morning  Chronicle,  a  most  valuable  sheet  in  its  way,  in  its 
Sunday  edition  contained  the  following  interesting  item  : 

"  No  event  in  social  circles  has  eclipsed  of  late  the  banquet  given  at 
the  club  last  night  in  honor  of  Captain  Gordon  Noel,  of  the  Eleventh 
Cavalry,  on  the  eve  of  his  departure  to  take  command  of  his  troop,  now 
hastening  to  the  scene  of  Indian  hostilities  in  Arizona.  As  is  well 
known  to  our  citizens,  the  news  of  the  murderous  outbreak  at  the 
reservation  was  no  sooner  received  than  this  gallant  officer  applied 
instantly  to  be  relieved  from  his  present  duties  in  our  midst  and  ordered 
to  join  his  comrades  in  the  field,  that  he  might  share  with  them  the 
perils  of  this  savage  warfare. 

"  Covers  were  laid  for  forty.  The  table  was  decorated  with  flowers 
and  glistened  with  plate  and  crystal.  The  most  conspicuous  device  was 
Vol.  XLV.— 24 


358  ^^0  SOLDIERS. 

the  crossed  sabres  of  the  cavalry,  with  the  number  11  and  the  letter 
K,  that  being  the  designation  of  the  captain's  company.  His  honor 
Mayor  Jenness  presided,  and  the  Hon.  Amos  Withers  faced  him  at  the 
other  end  of  the  banquet-board.  The  speech  of  the  evening  was  made 
by  Mayor  Jenness  in  toasting  '  our  gallant  guest/  which  was  drunk 
standing  and  with  all  honors.  We  have  room  only  for  a  brief  sum- 
mary of  his  remarks.  Alluding  to  the  previous  distinguished  services 
of  the  captain,  he  said  that  '  In  every  Territory  of  our  broad  West  his 
sabre  has  flashed  in  the  defence  of  the  weak  against  the  strong,  the 
poor  settler  against  the  powerful  and  numerous  savage  tribes  too  often 
backed  by  official  influence  at  Washington.  And  now,  while  cheeks 
were  blanching  and  hearts  were  still  stricken  by  the  dread  news  of  the 
butcheries  and  rapine  which  marked  the  Indians'  flight,  when  others 
shrank  from  such  perilous  work,  where  was  the  man  who  could  sup- 
press the  fervent  admiration  with  which  he  heard  that  there  was  one 
soldier  who  lost  no  time  in  demanding  relief  from  duty  here,  that  he 
might  speed  to  the  head  of  the  gallant  fellows  already  in  the  field,  who 
had  followed  him  in  many  a  stirring  charge  and  through  all  "  the  cur- 
rent of  many  a  heady  fight ;"  whose  hearts  would  leap  for  joy  at  sight  of 
their  beloved  leader's  face, — the  man  who  never  yet  had  failed  them, 
the  man  who  never  yet  had  faltered  in  his  duty,  the  man  whose  sword 
was  never  drawn  without  reason,  never  sheathed  without  honor, — our 
soldier  guest.  Captain  Gordon  Noel  ?' 

"  Much  affected,  it  was  some  minutes  before  the  captain  could  respond. 
The  modesty  of  the  true  soldier  restrained  his  eloquence.  *  He  knew 
not  how  to  thank  them  for  this  most  flattering  testimony  of  their  con- 
fidence and  regard ;  he  far  from  deserved  the  lavish  praise  of  their 
honored  chairman.  If  in  the  past  he  had  succeeded  in  winning  their 
esteem,  all  the  more  would  he  try  to  merit  it  now.  No  soldier  could 
remain  in  security  when  such  desperate  deeds  called  his  comrades  to 
the  fray ;  and  as  he  had  ever  shared  their  dangers  in  the  old  days,  so 
must  he  share  them  now.  His  heart,  his  home,  his  bride,  to  part  from 
whom  was  bitter  trial,  he  left  with  them  to  guard  and  cherish.  Duty 
called  him  to  the  front,  and  with  to-morrow's  sun  he  would  be  on  his 
way.  But,  if  it  pleased  God  to  bear  him  safely  through,  he  would 
return  to  them,  to  greet  and  grasp  each  friendly  hand  again,  and  mean- 
time to  prove  himself  worthy  the  high  honor  they  had  done  him.' 

"  There  was  hardly  a  dry  eye  at  the  table  when  the  gallant  soldier 
finished  his  few  remarks  and  then  took  his  seat. 

"  Besides  winning  the  heart  and  hand  of  one  of  the  loveliest  of  the 
Queen  City's  daughters,  the  captain  has  made  hosts  of  friends  in  our 
midst,  and  we  predict  that  when  the  records  of  the  campaign  are  written 
no  name  will  shine  with  brighter  lustre  than  that  of  Gordon  Noel." 

This  doubtless  was  delightful  reading  to  Noel  and  to  Noel's  rela- 
tives. Doubtless,  too,  it  was  some  comfort  to  poor  Mabel  as  she  lay 
pale,  anxious,  sore  at  heart  on  the  following  day,  while  her  husband 
and  lover — as  he  undoubtedly  was — sped  westward  with  the  fast 
express.  But  there  was  a  great  deal  about  the  Chroniclers  account 
that  would  have  elicited  something  more  than  a  broad  grin  from 
officers  who  knew  Noel  well. 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  359 

An  entire  week  had  elapsed  from  the  time  that  the  first  tidings 
were  received  to  the  moment  when  he  finally  and  most  reluctantly  left 
the  Queen  City.  The  first  intimation  was  enough  to  start  Captain 
Lane,  despite  the  fact  that  his  health  was  far  from  restored  and  that  he 
was  yet  by  no  means  strong.  He  felt  confident  that  the  Indians  would 
be  joined  by  some  of  the  Chiricahuas,  and  that  the  campaign  would 
be  fierce  and  stubborn.  Telegraphing  to  the  regimental  adjutant  and 
the  general  commanding  the  department  that  he  intended  to  start  at 
once,  and  asking  to  be  notified  en  route  where  he  could  most  speedily 
join  the  troop,  he  was  on  his  way  within  six  hours. 

That  very  night,  although  no  mention  was  made  of  this  in  the 
Chronicle  account,  Captain  Noel  received  a  despatch  from  the  Adju- 
tant-General's Office  at  Washington  briefly  to  this  effect :  "  You  become 
Captain  of  K  Company,  vice  Rawlins,  murdered  by  Apaches.  Hold 
yourself  in  readiness  to  turn  over  the  rendezvous  and  join  your  regi- 
ment without  delay."  No  news  could  have  been  more  unwelcome. 
Despite  his  many  faults,  there  was  no  question  that  Gordon  Noel  was 
very  much  in  love  with  his  wife  ;  but  he  never  had  been  in  love  with 
the  active  part  of  his  profession.  That  night  he  telegraphed  to  relatives 
who  had  stood  by  him  in  the  past,  and  wrote  urgent  and  })leading 
letters  informing  them  that  his  wife's  health  was  in  so  delicate  a  state 
that  if  he  were  compelled  at  this  moment  to  leave  her  and  to  go  upon 
perilous  duty  in  the  Apache  country  there  was  no  telling  what  might 
be  the  eifect  upon  her.  If  a  possible  tiling,  he  urged  that  there  should 
be  a  delay  of  a  fortnight.  He  calculated  that  by  that  time  the  Indians 
would  either  be  safe  across  the  Mexican  border  or  whipped  back  to  the 
reservation  ;  then  he  could  go  out  and  join  with  a  flourish  of  trumpets 
and  no  possible  danger.  But  a  new  king  reigned  in  the  War  Depart- 
ment, who  knew  Joseph  rather  than  knew  him  not.  In  some  way  the 
honorable  Secretary  had  become  acquainted  with  the  previous  history 
of  Captain  Noel's  campaign  services,  and,  though  the  influential  gen- 
tlemen referred  to  made  prompt  and  eloquent  appeal,  they  were  met  by 
courteous  but  positive  denial.  "  Every  man  who  was  worth  his  salt," 
said  the  Secretary,  "  should  be  with  his  regiment  now."  An  officer 
was  designated  to  proceed  at  once  to  the  Queen  City  and  take  over 
Noel's  rendezvous  and  property,  and  peremptory  orders  were  sent  to 
him  to  start  without  delay  and  to  notify  tiie  department  by  telegraph 
of  the  date  of  his  departure, — a  most  unusual  and  stringent  proceed- 
ing. This  correspondence  Noel  never  mentioned  to  anybody  at  the 
time,  and  it  was  known  only  to  the  official  records  for  some  time  after- 
wards. As  soon  as  he  found  that  go  he  must,  he  dictated  to  his  clerk 
a  letter  in  which,  gallant  soldier  that  he  was,  he  informed  the  Adjutant- 
General  that  the  new^s  from  Arizona  had  now  convinced  him  that  an 
outbreak  of  alarming  dimensions  had  taken  plpce,  and  he  begged  that 
he  might  he  relieved  as  at  his  own  request  and  permitted  to  join  his 
comrades  in  the  field.  To  this  no  reply  was  sent,  as  the  order  directing 
him  to  proceed  had  already  been  issued.  Perhaps  a  grim  smile  played 
about  the  moustached  lips  of  that  functionary  when  he  read  this  spirited 
epistle. 

Noel  left  the  Queen  City  a  hero  in  the  eyes  of  the  populace.     He 


360  ^^O  SOLDIERS. 

was  just  six  days  behind  Lane,  of  whose  movements  the  Queen  City 
had  no  information  whatever. 

And  now  came  an  odd  piece  of  luck, — a  slip  in  the  fortunes  of  war. 
The  cavalry  stationed  in  Arizona  were  so  far  from  the  reservation  at  the 
time  that  they  had  long  and  difficult  marches  to  make.  Only  two  or 
three  troops  that  ha{)pened  to  be  along  the  line  of  the  railway  reached 
the  mountains  neighboring  San  Carlos  in  time  to  quickly  take  the  trail 
of  the  hostiles.  Except  the  one  little  troop  of  cavalry  on  duty  at  the 
reservation,  none  of  the  horsemen  in  Arizona  had  as  yet  come  in  actual 
conflict  with  the  renegades,  and,  oddly  enough,  it  was  the  Eleventh 
that  first  met  and  struck  them.  Old  Riggs  himself  had  not  taken  the 
field,  but  the  battalion  from  head-quarters  had  been  whirled  westward 
along  the  railway  and  actually  reached  the  pass  through  theChiricahua 
Range  before  the  Indians.  Expecting  just  such  a  possibility,  these 
wary  campaigners  had  their  scouts  far  in  advance  of  the  main  body, 
and  prompt  warning  was  given,  so  that  only  the  rear-guard  of  the 
Indians  was  reached  by  the  eager  cavalrymen  ;  the  bulk  of  the  Apaches 
turned  eastward  and  swept  down  like  ravening  wolves  upon  the 
defenceless  settlers  in  the  San  Simon  Valley,  burning,  murdering,  pil- 
laging as  they  went,  full  fifty  miles  a  day,  while  their  pursuers  trailed 
helplessly  behind.  When  they  had  succeeded  in  crossing  the  railway 
most  of  their  number  were  mounted  on  fresh  horses,  and  the  section- 
hands,  who  saw  them  from  afar  off,  telegraphed  from  the  nearest  station 
that  they  had  with  them  six  or  eight  women  and  children  whose  hus- 
bands and  fathers  doubtless  lay  weltering  in  their  blood  along  the  route. 
Full  seven  days  now  had  they  been  dodging  through  the  mountains 
and  swooping  down  upon  the  ranchmen,  and  so  skilfully  had  they 
eluded  their  pursuers  and  defeated  their  combinations  that  now  they 
had  a  commanding  lead  and  actually  nothing  between  them  and 
the  Mexican  frontier, — nothing  in  Arizona,  that  is  to  say.  But  look  just 
across  the  border.  There,  spurring  steadily  southwestward  until  halted 
for  the  night  in  San  Simon  Pass,  comes  a  little  troop  of  cavalry,  not 
more  than  thirty-five  in  number.  All  day  long  since  earliest  dawn  had 
they  ridden  across  the  burning  sands  of  a  desert  region ;  lips,  nostrils, 
eyelids  smarting  with  alkali-dust,  throats  parclied  with  thirst,  temples 
throbbing  with  the  intense  heat;  several  men  and  horses  used  upjind 
left  behind  were  now  slowly  plodding  back  towards  the  railway.  Look 
at  the  letter  one  of  those  leaders  wears  upon  his  worn  old  scouting-hat, 
— D.     Yes,  it  is  the  "  Devil's  own  D's,"  and  Lane  is  at  their  head. 

At  the  moment  of  the  outbreak,  both  companies  from  Graham, 
K  and  D,  or  strong  detachments  from  both,  were  scouting  through  the 
country, — one  through  the  northern  Peloncillo  Range,  the  other  far  up 
among  the  head-waters  of  the  Gila.  Not  a  word  did  they  hear  of  the 
trouble  until  it  was  several  days  old ;  then  D  Troop  was  amazed  by 
the  sudden  appearance  of  their  captain  in  their  midst, — Lane,  whom 
they  supposed  to  be  on  sick-leave  far  in  the  distant  East.  It  was  then 
for  the  first  time  they  learned  how  their  comrades  of  K  Troop  had  lost 
their  popular  old  commander,  and  that  the  great  outbreak  had  occurred 
at  San  Carlos.  Stopping  only  long  enough  to  cram  their  pouches  with 
ammunition  and  to  draw  more  rations,  the  troop  hastened  away  towards 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  361 

the  railroad  by  way  of  Graham,  and  at  the  station,  just  at  dawn,  Lane 
sent  a  brief  despatch  to  the  commanding  general  saying  that  he  was 
pushing  with  all  speed  to  head  the  Indians  oif  via  San  Simon  Pass. 
He  had  then  forty-five  men  and  horses,  in  fair  condition.  K  Troop 
would  reach  Graham  that  evening,  and  he  urged  that  they  be  sent  at 
once  to  reinforce  him.  Tliis  despatch  "  the  Chief"  received  with  an 
emphatic  slap  of  his  thigh  and  an  expression  of  delight :  "Bless  that 
fellow  Lane!  he  is  always  in  the  nick  of  time.  I  had  not  hoped  for 
an  instant  that  either  D  or  K  would  be  available,  and  now  look,"  he 
said  to  his  aide-de-camp,  "he  has  started  for  San  Simon  Pass,  and  will 
probably  throw  himself  across  their  front.  Only  I  wish  he  had  more 
men." 

"Shall  I  wire  to  Gx'aham  to  have  K  rush  after  him,  sir?" 

"  Yes.  Order  tliem  to  start  the  instant  they  can  refit,  and  not  to 
take  more  than  an  hour  in  doing  that.  They  have  been  having  easy 
work  on  tiieir  scout, — probably  taking  it  leisurely  all  the  time ;  they 
ought  to  be  in  first-rate  trim.  D,  on  the  contrary,  has  been  making 
long  and  rapid  marches  to  get  down  from  the  Upper  Gila.  Where 
was  K  at  last  accounts  ?" 

"  Couriers  had  gone  to  the  Upper  Peloncillo  for  them  several  days 
ago,  and,  as  Lane  says,  they  are  expected  at  Graham  this  evening. 
Lane,  himself,  rode  after  his  own  men  two  hours  after  he  got  to  the 
post  from  the  East,  and  Noel,  who  is  K's  new  captain,  is  due  at  Graham 
Station  to-night." 

"  Then  send  him  orders  to  lead  his  troop  instantly,  follow  and  sup- 
port Lane.  Tell  him  not  to  lose  a  moment  on  the  way.  Everything 
may  depend  upon  his  promptness  and  zeal." 

And  so  it  happened  that  when  Captain  Noel  stepped  from  the  train 
that  afternoon  at  the  old  station  the  telegraph  messenger  came  forward 
to  meet  him,  touching  his  cap  and  saying,  "  This  despatch  has  been 
awaiting  you,  sir,  since  eleven  o'clock  this  morning.  I  have  just  had 
a  despatch  from  the  post,  and  K  Troop  got  in  two  hours  ago  and  is 
already  starting.  Lieutenant  Mason  says  an  orderly  is  coming  ahead 
with  a  horse  and  the  captain's  field-kit.  Shall  I  wire  for  anythinor 
else?"  _  ^ 

Noel  opened  the  despatch  which  had  been  handed  him,  and  read  it 
with  an  expression  that  plainly  indicated  perturbation,  if  not  dismay. 
He  had  not  been  in  saddle  for  an  entire  year. 

"  Why,  I  must  go  out  to  the  post !"  he  said  to  the  operator.  "  I  am 
not  at  all  ready  to  take  the  field.  Let  them  know  that  I  have  arrived, 
and  will  come  out  there  without  delay.  Better  have  the  troop  unsaddled 
and  wait  for  my  coming." 

"  Will  the  captain  pardon  me  ?"  said  the  operator ;  "  the  orders 
from  the  Department  commander  that  went  through  this  morning  were 
that  the  troop  should  not  take  more  than  an  hour  in  refitting  at  the 
post  and  should  start  at  once.  I  thought  I  could  see  them  coming 
over  the  divide  just  as  the  whistle  blew." 

The  captain's  face  gave  no  sign  of  enthusiasm  as  he  received  this 
news.  He  was  still  pondering  over  the  contents  of  his  despatch  from 
the  commanding  general, — its  tone  was  so  like  that  of  his  order  from 


362  "^WO  SOLDIERS. 

the  War  Department, — so  utterly  unlike  what  his  admiring  circle  of 
relatives  and  friends  would  have  expected.  Stepping  into  the  telegraph- 
office,  he  took  some  blanks  and  strove  to  compose  a  despatch  that  would 
convince  the  general  that  he  was  wild  with  eagerness  to  ride  all  night 
to  the  support  of  Lane,  and  yet  that  would  explain  how  absolutely 
necessary  it  was  that  he  should  first  go  out  to  the  post.  But  the  Fates 
were  against  him.  Even  as  he  was  gnawing  the  pencil  aud  cudgelling 
his  brains,  the  operator  called  out, — 

"  Here  come  some  of  'em  now,  sir." 

And,  looking  nervously  from  the  window,  Noel  saw  three  horsemen 
galloping  in  to  the  station.  Foremost  came  a  lieutenant  of  infantry, 
who  sprang  to  the  ground  and  tossed  the  reins  to  his  orderly  the  instant 
he  neared  the  platform.  One  of  the  men  had  ajed  horse,  completely 
equipped  for  the  field,  with  blankets,  saddle-bags,  carbine,  canteen,  and 
haversack  ;  and  Noel's  quick  intuition  left  him  no  room  to  believe  that 
the  steed  was  intended  for  any  one  but  him. 

The  infantryman  came  bounding  in  :  "  Is  this  Captain  Noel  ?  I 
am  Mr.  Renshaw,  post-adjutant,  sir,  and  I  had  hoped  to  get  here  in 
time  to  meet  you  on  your  arrival,  but  we  were  all  busy  getting  the  troop 
i-eady.  You've  got  your  orders,  sir,  haven't  you  ?  My  God  !  captain, 
canH  you  wire  to  the  fort  and  beg  the  major  to  let  me  go  with  you  ? 
I'll  be  your  slave  for  a  lifetime.  I've  never  had  a  chance  to  do  a  "bit 
of  real  campaigning  yet,  and  no  man  could  ask  a  bullier  chance  than 
this.  Excuse  me,  sir,  I  know  you  want  to  get  right  into  scouting  rig, 
— Mr.  Mason  said  his  '  extras'  would  fit  you  exactly, — but  if  you  could 
take  me  along — you're  bound  to  get  there  just  in  time  for  the  thick  of 
it."  And  the  gallant  little  fellow  looked,  all  eagerness,  into  Noel's  un- 
responsive face.  What  wouldn't  the  hero  of  the  Queen  City  Club  have 
given  to  turn  the  whole  thing  over  to  this  ambitious  young  soldier  and 
let  him  take  his  chances  of  "  glory  or  the  grave"  ! 

"  Very  thoughtful  of  you  all,  I'm  sure,  to  think  of  sending  horse 
and  kit  here  for  me,  but  I  really  ought  to  go  out  to  the  post.  There 
are  things  I  must  attend  to.  You  see,  I  left  the  instant  I  could  induce 
them  to  relieve  me,  and  there  was  no  time  to  make  preparations." 

"  But — you  can't  have  heard,  captain  :  your  troop  will  be  here  in 
ten  minutes.  Captain  Lane  by  this  time  is  past  Pyramid  Mountain, 
and  will  strike  them  early  in  the  morning.  There  won't  be  any  time 
to  go  out  to  the  post :  you've  got  to  ride  at  trot  or  gallop  most  of  the 
night  as  it  is " 

"  Captain  Noel,  pardon  me,  sir,"  interposed  the  operator.  "  The 
general  is  in  the  office  at  Wilcox  Station.  He  wants  to  know  if  you 
have  started  from  here." 

"  Tell  him  the  troop  isn't  here  yet.     I — I'm  waiting  for  it." 

"Yonder  comes  the  troop,  sir,"  called  out  Mr.  Renshaw,  who  had 
run  to  the  door.  "  Now  let  me  help  you  off  with  your  *  cits.'  Bring 
that  canvas  bag  in  here,  orderly." 

Three  minutes  brought  a  message  from  "the  Chief:"  "Lose  not  a 
moment  on  the  way.  Report  here  by  wire  the  arrival  of  your  troop 
and  the  moment  you  start.     Behind  time  now." 

Poor  Noel !     There  was  no  surgeon  to  certify  that  his  pallid  cheeks 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  363 

were  due  to  impaired  heart-action,  no  senatorial  cousin  to  beg  for  staff 
duty,  no  Mrs.  liiggs  to  interpose.  He  had  just  time  to  send  a  despatch 
to  Mabel  announcing  that  he  took  the  field  at  the  head  of  his  troop  at 
once,  another  (collect)  to  Amos  Withers,  Esq.,  of  similar  import,  and 
one  to  the  general,  saying  that  at  4.45  they  were  just  on  the  point  of 
starting,  when  the  troop,  fifty  strong  and  in  splendid  trim,  came  trot- 
ting in,  and  Mr.  Mason  grimly  saluted  his  new  captain  and  fell  back 
to  the  command  of  the  first  platoon. 

"  Noel  to  the  Front !"  was  the  Chroniclers  head-line  on  the  follow- 
ing morning  far  away  in  the  Queen  City. 

XIV. 

Not  an  instant  too  soon,  although  he  has  ridden  hard  since  earliest 
dawn,  has  Lane  reached  the  rocky  pass.  North  and  south  the  Pelon- 
cillos  are  shrouded  in  the  gloom  of  coming  night,  and  all  over  the  arid 
plain  to  the  eastward  darkness  has  settled  down.  In  previous  scouts 
he  has  learned  the  country  well,  and  he  knows  just  where  to  turn  for 
"  tanks"  of  cool  water  for  horses,  mules,  and  men, — the  cavalry  order 
of  precedence  when  creature  comforts  are  to  be  doled  out.  He  knows 
just  where  to  conceal  his  little  force  in  the  recesses  of  the  rocks  and 
let  them  build  tiny  fires  and  make  their  coffee  and  then  get  such  rest 
as  is  possible  before  the  coming  day ;  but  there  is  no  rest  for  him. 
Taking  two  veteran  soldiers  with  him,  and  leaving  the  troop  to  the 
command  of  his  lieutenant,  an  enthusiastic  young  soldier  only  a  year 
out  of  the  cadet  gray,  the  captain  rides  westward  through  the  gloam- 
ing. He  must  determine  at  once  whether  the  Indians  are  coming  to- 
wards the  pass  by  which  the  San  Simon  makes  its  burst  through  the 
range,  or  whether,  having  made  wide  detour  around  the  little  post  at 
Bowie  among  the  Chiricahua  Mountains,  they  are  now  heading  south- 
ward again  and  taking  the  shortest  line  to  the  border  before  seeking  to 
regain  once  more  their  old  trail  along  the  San  Bernardino.  How  often 
have  their  war-parties  gone  to  and  fro  along  those  rocky  banks,  un- 
molested, unpursued ! 

And  now,  secure  in  the  belief  that  they  have  thrown  all  the 
cavalry  far  to  the  rear  in  the  "  stern-chase"  which  no  Apache  dreads, 
well  knowing  how  easily  he  can  distance  his  hampered  pursuers,  the 
renegades,  joined  by  a  gang  of  the  utterly  "  unreconstructed"  Chiri- 
cahuas,  are  taking  things  easily  and  making  raids  on  the  helpless 
ranches  that  lie  to  the  right  or  left  of  their  line  of  march.  For- 
tunately for  the  records,  these  are  few  in  number ;  had  there  been 
dozens  more  they  would  only  have  served  to  swell  the  list  of  butchered 
men,  of  plundered  ranches,  of  burning  stacks  and  corrals,  of  women 
and  children  borne  off  to  be  the  sport  of  their  leisure  hours  when 
once  secure  in  the  fastnesses  of  the  Sierra  Madres  far  south  of  the 
line.  Death  could  not  too  soon  conit  to  the  relief  of  these  poor  creat- 
ures, and  Lane  and  all  his  men  had  been  spurred  to  the  utmost  effort 
by  the  story  of  the  railway-hands  that  they  had  plainly  seen  several 
women  and  children  bound  to  the  spare  animals  the  renegades  drove 
along  across  the  iron  track. 


364  I'WO  SOLDIERS. 

Among  the  passengers  in  the  pillaged  stage-coach  were  the  wife  and 
danghter  of  an  Indian  agent,  who  had  only  recently  come  to  this 
arid  Territory  and  knew  little  of  the  ways  of  its  indigenous  people. 
Nothing  had  since  been  seen  or  heard  of  them.  Captain  Rawlins 
and  two  soldiers  going  up  as  witnesses  before  a  court-martial  at  Grant 
were  found  hacked  almost  beyond  recognition,  and  the  driver  too,  who 
seemed  to  have  crawled  out  among  the  rocks  to  die.  Verily  the 
Apaches  had  good  reason  to  revel  in  their  success !  They  had 
hoodwinked  the  Bureau,  dodged  the  cavalry,  plundered  right  and  left 
until  they  were  rich  with  spoil,  and  now,  well  to  the  south  of  the  rail- 
way, witii  a  choice  of  either  east  or  west  side  of  the  range,  their  main 
body  and  prisoners  are  halted  to  rest  the  animals,  while  miles  to  the 
rear  their  faithful  vedettes  keep  watch  against  pursuers,  and  miles  out 
to  the  west  the  most  active  young  warriors  are  crying  havoc  at  the 
ranch  of  Tres  Hermanos.  It  is  the  red  glare  of  the  flame  towards 
the  sunset  horizon  that  tells  Lane  the  Apaches  cannot  be  far  away. 
The  instant  he  and  his  comrades  issue  from  the  gorge  and  peer  cau- 
tiously to  the  right  and  left,  not  only  do  they  see  the  blaze  across  the 
wide  valley,  but  northward,  not  more  than  half  a  mile  away,  there  rises 
upon  the  night-wind  a  sound  that  they  cannot' mistake, — the  war-chant 
of  the  Chiricahuas. 

"  Thank  God,"  cries  Lane,  "  we  are  here  ahead  of  them  !" 

Half  an  hour's  reconnoissance  reveals  to  him  their  position.  Far 
up  among  the  boulders  of  the  range,  where  pursuing  horsemen  cannot 
rush  upon  them  in  the  night,  they  have  made  their  bivouac,  and  are 
having  a  revel  and  feast  while  awaiting  the  return  of  the  raiders  or  news 
from  the  rear  that  they  must  be  moving.  The  range  is  rugged  and  pre- 
cipitous north  of  the  gorge ;  cavalry  cannot  penetrate  it ;  but  Lane's 
plan  is  quickly  laid.  He  will  let  his  men  sleep  until  two  o'clock,  keep- 
ing only  three  sentries  on  the  lookout,  one  of  them  mounted  and  west 
of  the  gorge  to  give  warning  should  the  Indians  move  during  the  night. 
Then,  leaving  the  horses  concealed  among  the  rocks  south  of  the  stream, 
with  two  men  to  guard  them,  he  will  lead  his  company  up  the  heights 
and  as  close  as  possible  to  the  Apache  camp,  lie  in  hiding  until  it 
is  light  enough  to  distinguish  objects,  then  dash  down  into  their  midst, 
rescue  the  prisoners  in  the  panic  and  confusion  that  he  knows  will  result 
from  the  sudden  attack,  send  them  back  as  rapidly  as  })ossible,  guided 
by  three  or  four  .men,  to  where  his  horses  are  corralled,  while  he  and 
his  little  band  interpose  between  them  and  any  rally  the  Apaches  may 
make. 

Knowing  well  that  they  are  armed  with  magazine  rifles  and  supplied 
by  a  paternal  Bureau  with  abundant  ammunition,  knowing  that  they 
outnumber  him  three  to  one,  knowing  that  by  sunrise  the  whole  tribe 
will  have  reassembled  and  must  infallibly  detect  the  pitiful  weakness 
of  his  own  force,  it  is  a  desperate  chance  to  take ;  but  it  is  the  only  one 
— absolutely  the  only  one — to  save  those  tortured,  agonized  \vomen,  those 
terror-stricken  little  ones,  from  a  fate  more  awful  than  words  can  portray. 

By  eight  or  nine  in  the  morning,  he  argues,  K  Troop  must  certainly 
reach  him ;  he  knows  them  to  be  fresii  and  strong,  he  knows  that  they 
have  had  only  short  and  easy  marches  and  therefore  can  easily  come 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  365 

ahead  all  night  long  and  be  rounding  the  Pyramid  Spur  by  daybreak. 
He  knows  Mason  well,  and  can  count  on  that  young  officer's  doing  his 
"  level  best"  to  support  him.  Alas !  he  does  not  know  that  Mason  is 
compelled  by  this  time  to  fall  back  to  second  place,  and  that  the  last 
man  on  whom  he  can  possibly  count  "  in  a  pinch"  is  now  in  command 
of  the  looked-for  troop. 

The  night  wears  on  without  alarm.  Well-nigh  exhausted,  Lane 
has  thrown  himself  at  the  foot  of  a  tree  to  catch  what  sleep  he  may, 
and  he  feels  as  though  he  had  not  closed  his  eyes  when  Corporal  Shea 
bends  over  him  to  say  it  is  two  o'clock.  Noiselessly  the  men  are 
aroused ;  silently  they  roll  out  of  their  blankets,  and,  obedient  to  the 
low-toned  "  fall  in"  of  the  first  sergeant,  seize  their  arms  and  take 
tlieir  place  in  line.  There  Lane  briefly  explains  the  situation  ;  tells 
them  of  the  position  of  the  Apache  bivouac;  details  Corporal  Riley 
and  four  men  to  search  for,  secure,  and  hie  away  with  the  prisoners, 
and  orders  all  the  rest  to  fight  like  the  devil  to  drive  the  Apaches  hel- 
ter-skelter into  the  rocks.  "  Let  not  one  word  be  said  nor  a  trigger 
pulled  until  we  are  right  among  them.  Wait  for  my  command,  unless 
we  are  detected  and  fired  on.  If  we  are,  blaze  away  at  once  ;  but  never 
stop  your  rush  :  get  right  in  among  them.  Let  Riley  and  his  men  make 
instant  search,  be  sure  they  leave  neither  woman  nor  child  behind,  and 
start  them  back  here.  The  rest  of  us  will  fall  back  slowly,  keeping  be- 
tween them  and  the  Apaches  all  the  time.  Never  let  them  get  near  those 
prisoners.  That  is  the  main  object  of  our  attack.  Once  back  here  with 
the  horses,  we  can  pick  out  places  in  the  rocks  from  whicii  we  can  stand 
the  Apaches  off  until  K  Troop  comes.  Rest  assured  Lieutenant  Mason 
and  his  men  will  be  along  by  eight  or  nine ;  and  it  cannot  be  that  the 
cavalry  now  pursuing  the  Apaches  from  the  north  will  be  more  than  a 
few  hours  behind.  Now,  do  you  understand  ?  for  there  will  be  no  chance 
of  orders  up  there.  Leave  your  canteens;  leave  anything  that  will  hinder 
or  rattle.  Those  of  you  who  have  on  spurs,  take  them  off.  Those  of 
you  who  have  Tonto  or  Apache  moccasins,  take  off  your  top  boots  and 
put  them  on  ;  they  are  all  the  better  for  going  up  these  hill-sides.  Now 
get  your  coffee,  men ;  make  no  noise,  light  no  additional  fires,  and  be 
ready  to  move  in  twenty  minutes." 

Then  he  pencils  this  brief  note  : 

"Commanding  Officer  Troop  K,  Eleventh  Cavalry  : 

"  We  have  headed  the  Apaches,  and  will  attack  theii'  camp  the 
instant  it  is  light  enough  to  see,  rescue  their  captives,  then  fall  back 
here  to  the  gorge  of  the  San  Simon.  They  far  outnumber  us,  and  you 
cannot  reach  us  too  soon.  I  count  upon  your  being  here  by  eight  in 
the  morning,  and  hope  with  your  aid  to  hold  the  enemy  until  Greene's 
Gomroand  arrives.  Then  we  ought  to  capture  tlie  whole  band.  Do 
not  fail  me. 

"Feederick  Lane, 

" Captain  Eleventh  Cavalry" 

This  he  gives  to  Sergeant  Luce  with  orders  to  ride  back  on  the  trail 
until  he  meets  K  Troop  and  deliver  it  to  Lieutenant  Mason  or  whoever 
is  in  command ;  and  in  half  an  hour  Luce  is  away. 


366  "^WO  SOLDIERS. 

And  now,  just  as  the  dawn  is  breaking  and  a  faint  pallid  light  is 
stealing  through  the  tree-tops  along  the  rocky  range,  there  come  creep- 
ing slowly,  noiselessly  along  the  slope  a  score  of  shadowy  forms,  crouch- 
ing from  boulder  to  boulder,  from  tree  to  tree.  Not  a  word  is  spoken, 
save  now  and  then  a  whispered  caution.  Foremost,  carbine  in  hand,  is 
the  captain,  now  halting  a  moment  to  give  some  signal  to  those  nearest 
him,  now  peering  ahead  over  the  rocks  that  bar  the  way.  At  last  he 
reaches  a  point  where,  looking  down  the  dark  and  rugged  hill-side 
before  him,  he  sees  something  which  causes  him  to  unsling  the  case 
in  which  his  field-glasses  are  carried,  to  gaze  thither  long  and  fixedly. 
With  all  eyes  upon  their  leader,  the  men  wait  and  listen :  some 
cautiously  try  the  hammers  of  their  carbines  and  loosen  a  few  car- 
tridges in  the  loops  of  their  prairie-belts.  A  signal  from  Lane  brings 
Mr.  Royce,  the  young  second  lieutenant,  to  his  side.  It  is  the  boy's 
first  experience  of  the  kind,  and  his  heart. is  thumping,  but  he  means 
to  be  one  of  the  foremost  in  the  charge  when  the  time  comes.  Watching 
closely,  the  nearest  men  can  see  that  the  captain  is  pointing  out  some 
object  nearer  at  hand  than  they  supposed,  and  the  first  sergeant,  crouch- 
ing to  a  neighboring  rock,  looks  cautiously  over,  and  then  eagerly 
motions  to  others  to  join  him. 

The  Apache  hiding-place  is  not  three  hundred  yards  away. 

Down  the  motintain-side  to  the  west  and  up  the  range  to  the  north 
their  sentries  keep  vigilant  guard  against  surprise ;  but  what  man  of 
their  number  dreams  for  an  instant  that  on  the  south,  between  them 
and  the  Mexican  line,  there  is  now  closing  in  to  the  attack  a  little  troop 
of  veteran  campaigners,  led  by  a  man  whom  they  have  learned  to  dread 
before  now  ?  Invisible  from  the  valley  below  or  the  heights  up  the 
range,  their  smouldering  fires  can  be  plainly  seen  from  where  Lane 
and  his  men  are  now  concealed.    But  nothing  else  can  be  distinguished. 

Far  over  to  the  western  side  of  the  valley  the  faint  red  glow  tells 
where  lie  the  ruins  of  the  ranch  their  young  warriors  have  destroyed, 
and  any  moment  now  their  exultant  yells  may  be  heard  as  they  come 
scampering  back  to  camp  after  a  night  of  deviltry,  and  then  everybody 
will  be  up  and  moving  off  and  well  on  the  way  southward  before  the 
sun  gets  over  the  crest.  Lane  knows  he  must  make  his  dash  before 
they  can  return.  There  would  be  little  hope  of  rescue  for  the  poor 
souls  lying  there  bound  and  helpless,  with  all  those  fierce  young  fighters 
close  at  hand. 

The  word  is  passed  among  the  men  :  "  Follow  closely,  but  look 
well  to  your  footing.  Dislodge  no  stones."  Then,  slowly  and  stealth- 
ily as  before,  on  they  go, — this  time  down  the  hill  towards  the  faint 
lights  of  the  Indian  bivouac.  A  hundred  yards  more,  and  Lane  holds 
up  his  hand,  a  signal  to  halt ;  and  here  he  gives  Mr.  Royce  a  few 
instructions  in  a  low  tone.  The  youngster  nods  his  head  and  mutters 
to  several  of  the  men  as  he  passes,  "  Follow  me."  They  disappear 
among  the  rocks  and  trees  to  the  right,  and  it  is  evident  that  they  mean 
to  work  around  to  the  east  of  the  bivouac,  so  as  to  partially  encircle 
them.  Little  by  little  the  wan  light  grows  brighter,  and,  close  at  hand, 
objects  far  more  distinct.  An  Indian  is  just  passing  in  front  of  the 
nearest  blaze,  and  is  lost  in  the  gloom  among  the  stuuted  ti"ees.     One 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  3g7 

or  two  forms  are  moving  about,  but  they  can  only  dimly  be  distin- 
guished. Lane  argues,  however,  that  they  are  getting  ready  to  move, 
and  no  time  is  to  be  lost. 

"  Spread  out  now,"  is  the  order,  "  well  to  the  right  and  left,  and 
move  forward.  Be  very  careful."  And  once  more  they  resume  their 
cat-like  advance.  Nearer  and  nearer  they  creep  upon  the  unsuspecting 
foe,  and  soon  many  a  form  of  sleeping  Apache  can  be  made  out,  lying 
around  in  the  grassy  basin  in  which  they  are  hiding  for  the  night. 
Lane  motions  to  Corporal  Riley  to  come  close  to  his  side :  "  I  can 
see  nothing  that  looks  like  prisoners :  they  must  be  among  the  trees 
there,  where  that  farthest  lire  is  burning.  Keep  close  to  me  with 
your  men.     Pass  the  word  to  the  right,  there.     All  ready." 

And  now  they  are  so  near  the  Indians  that  the  voices  of  one  or  two 
squaws  can  be  heard  cliatting  in  low  tones ;  then  the  feeble  wail  of  an 
infant  is  for  a  moment  brought  to  their  straining  ears;  then  far  out 
over  the  level  valley  to  the  west  there  is  a  sound  tliat  causes  Lane's 
blood  to  tingle, — faint,  distant,  but  unmistakable, — a  chorus  of  Apache 
yells.  The  raiders  are  coming  back  :  it  is  time  to  strike  the  blow. 
Now  or  never,  seems  to  be  the  word  as  the  men  glance  at  their  leader 
and  then  into  each  other's  faces. 

^'  Forward  !  no  shot,  no  sound,  till  they  see  us ;  then  cheer  like  mad 
as  you  charge  !     Come  on,  men  !" 

Quickly  now  following  his  lead,  they  go  leaping  down  the  hill-side. 
Thirty — fifty  yards  without  mishap  or  discovery.  Sixty,  and  still  no 
sound  from  the  defence;  then  a  sudden  stumble,  the  rattle  of  a  carbine 
sliding  down  the  rocks,  a  muttered  execration ;  then  a  shrill,  piercing 
scream  from  the  midst  of  the  bivouac  ;  then 

"  Charge !" 

In  they  go ! — the  "  Devil's  own  D's."  The  still  air  rings  with 
their  wild  hurrahs  and  the  crash  of  their  carbines.  The  flame-jets 
light  up  the  savage  scene  and  show  squaws  and  screaming  children 
rushing  for  shelter  among  the  rocks ;  Apache  warriors  springing  from 
the  ground,  some  manfully  facing  the  rush  of  the  foe,  others  fleeing 
like  women  down  the  hill-side.  Never  halting  an  instant,  the  soldiers 
dash  through  the  camp,  driving  the  dusky  occupants  helter-skelter. 
Lane  finds  himself  confronted  one  instant  by  a  savage  warrior  whose 
eyes  gleam  like  tiger's  under  the  thatch  of  coarse  black  hair,  and  whose 
teeth  gnash  in  fury  as  he  tries  to  force  a  fresh  cartridge  into  his  breech- 
loader. No  time  for  Lane  to  reload.  He  clubs  his  carbine,  and  the 
hammer  comes  crashing  down  on  the  Indian's  skull  just  as  Corporal 
Riley  drives  a  bullet  through  his  heart. 

"  Look  to  the  captives,  man  !"  shouts  Lane.  "  Don't  follow  me  ! 
Drive  them !  drive  them,  Royce !"  are  his  ringing  orders,  as  he  him- 
self dashes  on  past  the  fires  and  into  the  feeble  morning  light 
beyond. 

Bang !  bang  !  the  carbines  are  ringing  through  the  rocks  and  trees ; 
cheer  upon  cheer  goes  up  from  the  little  command,  mingled  with  Indian 
yells  and  the  screams  of  the  terrified  children. 

"  Riley's  got  'em,  sir,"  he  hears  his  boy-trumpeter  call.  "  Some  of 
'em,  anyhow.     There's  two  white  women." 


368  ^'♦^O  SOLDIERS. 

"  Never  mind,  lad,"  he  answers.  "  Don't  sound  the  recall  till  I 
tell  you." 

And  again  his  ringing  voice  is  heard  among  the  tumult :  "  For- 
ward !  forward  !  drive  them  !  keep  them  on  the  run,  men  !" 

And  so  for  five  minutes  longer,  firing  whenever  a  savage  head 
appears,  inflicting  and  receiving  many  a  savage  blow,  but  still  victo- 
riously forcing  their  way  onward,  the  little  band  follow  their  leader 
down  the  rocks  until  apparently  not  an  Apache  is  left  in  the  immediate 
neighborhood  of  the  old  camp.  Then  at  last  the  trumpet  peals  out  its 
signal-recall. 

And  slowly  and  steadily,  watchfully  guarding  against  the  possi- 
bility of  leaving  some  wounded  comrade  among  the  rocks,  the  little 
command  finally  gathers  once  more  around  the  fires  in  the  camp. 

Riley  and  his  men  have  disappeared.  A  shout  from  up  the  rocks 
in  the  well-known  Irish  voice  gives  the  glad  intelligence  that  he  has 
brought  with  him  all  the  prisoners  he  could  find  in  camp. 

"There  are  three  women,  sir,  and  two  little  children, — two  girls; 
they're  so  frightened  that  I  can  hardly  find  out  much  from  them,  but 
they  say  there  was  no  more  left." 

"Very  well,  then.  Now,  men,  open  out  right  and  left,  and  fall 
back  very  slowly.  Sergeant,  take  six  of  the  men  and  move  up  so  as 
to  be  close  to  Riley  in  case  they  attack  from  the  flank.  Are  we  all  here  ? 
Are  any  wounded  or  hurt?"  He  asks  the  question  with  a  little  stream 
of  blood  trickling  down  from  his  left  temple,  but  of  which  he  seems 
perfectly  unaware :  either  an  arrow  or  a  bullet  has  torn  the  skin  and 
made  quite  a  furrow  through  the  hair. 

"  Murphy,  sir,"  says  one  of  the  men,  "  is  shot  through  the  arm,  and 
Lathrop  has  got  a  bullet  in  the  leg;  but  they're  only  flesh-wounds: 
they're  lying  here  just  back  of  us." 

Lane  turns  about,  and  finds  two  of  his  men  looking  a  little  pale, 
but  perfectly  plucky  and  self-possessed.  "  We'll  get  you  along  all  right, 
men,"  he  says ;  "  don't  worry. — Now,  lads,  turn  about  every  ten  or 
fifteen  steps,  and  see  that  they  don't  get  close  upon  you.  Look  well  to 
the  left." 

Then  slowly  they  fall  back  towards  the  pass.  Every  now  and  then 
a  shot  comes  whizzing  by,  as  the  Apaches  regain  courage  and  creep  up 
to  their  abandoned  camp.  But  not  until  they  are  well  back  over  the 
ridge,  and  Riley  and  his  little  party,  fairly  carrying  their  rescued  cap- 
tives, are  nearly  out  of  harm's  way,  do  the  scattered  warriors  begin  to 
realize  how  few  in  number  their  assailants  must  be.  Rallying  shouts 
can  be  heard  among  the  rocks,  and  then  there  come  the  thunder  of 
hoofs  out  on  the  plain  below  and  the  answering  yells  of  the  returning 
raiders. 

"  Run  to  Corporal  Riley  and  tell  him  to  make  all  the  haste  he  can," 
Lane  orders  his  trumpeter.  "Tell  him  to  get  back  to  the  horses,  and 
then,  as  soon  as  he  has  left  his  women  in  a  safe  place  there,  to  throw 
up  stone  shelters  wherever  it  is  .possible. — Royce,  you  look  out  for 
this  front.  I  will  go  to  the  left.  If  any  of  your  men  are  hit,  have 
them  picked  up  and  moved  rapidly  to  the  rear;  of  course  we  can't 
leave  any  wounded  to  fall  into  their  hands ;  but,  where  possible,  keep 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  369 

your  men  under  cover ;  and  keep  under  yourself,  six :  don't  let  me 
see  you  exposing  yourself  unnecessarily,  as  I  did  a  while  ago." 

And  once  again  the  retreat  is  resumed.  Lane  looks  anxiously 
among  the  rocks  down  the  hill  to  his  left,  every  instant  expecting  to  see 
the  young  braves  hurrying  to  the  assault.  But  now,  as  though  in 
obedience  to  the  signals  of  some  leader,  the  Apaches  cease  their  pursuit. 
Lane  well  knows  that  the  matter  is  not  yet  concluded,  but  is  thankful 
for  the  respite.  Still  warily  his  little  force  continues  the  withdrawal, 
and,  without  further  molestiition,  reaches  the  gorge  of  the  San  Simon, 
and  soon  comes  in  sight  of  the  dip  among  the  rocks  where  the  horses 
are  still  hidden.  Here,  too,  Corporal  Riley  and  his  men  are  busily  at 
work  heaping  up  little  breastworks  of  rock,  and  Lane  directs  that  while 
the  wounded — there  are  three  now — are  carried  down  to  where  the 
rescued  women  and  children  are  lying,  the  other  men  fall  to  and  help. 
In  five  minutes  there  are  over  a  score  of  them  at  work,  and  not  one 
instant  too  soon.  Corporal  Donnelly,  who  has  been  posted,  mounted, 
at  the  western  entrance  to  the  defile,  comes  clattering  in  to  say  that  at 
least  a  hundred  Indians  are  swarming  down  the  ridge. 

And  now  the  fight  that  opens  is  one  in  which  the  odds  are  greatly 
against  the  defenders.  Lane  has  just  time  to  climb  to  the  height  on 
the  east  and  take  one  long  look  with  his  glasses  over  the  flats  beyond 
the  pass,  praying  for  a  sight  of  a  dust-cloud  towards  the  Pyramid  Spur, 
when  with  simultaneous  crash  of  musketry  and  chorus  of  yells  the 
Apaches  come  sweeping  down  to  the  attack. 

XV. 

Meantime,  where  are  the  looked-for  supports?  Lane,  with  wearied 
horses,  had  made  the  march  from  the  railway-station  to  the  pass  in  a 
little  over  fourteen  hours.  It  was  5.30  when  he  started  and  8.15  when 
he  unsaddled  among  the  rocks.  He  had  come  through  the  blazing  sun- 
shine of  the  long  June  day;  sometimes  at  the  trot,  sometimes  at  the 
lope,  ofttimes  dismounting  and  leading  when  crossing  ridges  or  ravines. 
He  was  still  pale  and  weak  from  his  long  illness,  and  suffering  from  a 
sorrow  that  had  robbed  him  of  all  the  buoyancy  he  had  ever  possessed. 
But  the  sense  of  duty  was  as  strong  as  ever,  and  the  soldier-spirit 
triumphed  over  the  ills  of  the  flesh. 

Noel,  starting  at  4.45  p.m.,  with  horses  and  men  fresh  and  eager, 
with  a  guide  who  knew  every  inch  of  the  way,  and  the  bright  starlight 
to  cheer  his  comrades,  could  reasonably  be  expected  to  cover  the  same 
ground  in  the  same  time ;  every  old  cavalryman  knows  that  horses  travel 
better  by  night  than  by  day.  By  good  rights  he  and  his  men  should 
be  at  the  pass  at  least  an  hour  before  the  time  set  by  Lane.  It  was  only 
a  week  before  that  the  cajitain  had  declared  at  the  ''  Queen  City"  that 
he  had  never  felt  so  "  fit"  in  his  life  and  a  campaign  would  just  suit 
him.  Things  seemed  to  have  a  different  color,  however,  as  he  watched 
the  going  down  of  the  sun  behind  the  distant  Peloncillos.  The  words 
of  the  young  infantry  adjutant  kept  recurring  to  him,  and  he  knew  of 
old  that  when  Lane  started  after  Indians  he  was  "  dead  sure  to  get 
'em"  as  Mr.  Mason  was  good  enough  to  remind  him. 


370  ^^^0  SOLDIERS. 

Twice  before  sunset  the  guide  had  ventured  to  suggest  a  quicker 
gait,  but  Noel  refused,  saying  that  he  did  not  mean  to  get  his  horses 
to  the  scene  worn  out  and  unfit  for  pursuit.  Mr.  Mason,  who  heard 
this,  begged  to  remind  the  captain  that  pursuit  was  not  the  object : 
they  were  expected  to  get  there  in  time  to  help  Lane  head  off  the 
attempt  at  further  flight,  and  to  hold  the  Apaches,  wherever  met,  until 
the  pursuing  force  could  reach  them  from  the  north  and  hem  them  in. 
Noel  ranked  Mason  only  a  few  files  and  knew  well  that  all  the  regi- 
ment would  side  with  his  subaltern  :  so  he  was  forced  to  a  show  of  cor- 
diality and  consideration.  He  rode  by  the  lieutenant's  side,  assuring 
him  of  the  sense  of  strength  it  gave  him  to  have  with  him  a  man  of 
such  experience.  "  For  your  sake.  Mason,  I  wish  I  had  been  twelve 
hours  later,  so  that  you  could  have  had  the  glory  of  this  thing  to  your- 
self; but  you  know  I  couldn't  stand  it.  I  had  to  pull  wires  like  sin  to 
get  relieved,  as  it  was.  Old  Hudson,  the  head  of  the  recruiting-service, 
just  swore  he  wouldn't  let  me  go,  because  I  had  had  good  luck  in  the 
class  and  number  of  the  recruits  I  sent  him.  Personally,  too,  I'm  in 
no  shape  to  ride.     See  how  fat  I've  grown  ?" 

Mason  saw,  but  said  a  fifty-mile  ride  ought  not  to  stagger  any  cavalry- 
man, hard  or  soft,  and  made  no  reply  whatever  to  the  captain's  account 
of  how  he  succeeded  in  getting  relieved.     He  didn't  believe  a  word  of  it. 

Night  came  on  and  found  them  still  marching  at  steady  walk. 
Halts  for  rest,  too,  had  been  frequently  ordered,  and  at  last  Mason 
could  stand  it  no  longer.  After  repeated  looks  at  his  watcli,  he  had 
burst  out  with  an  earnest  appeal : 

"  Captain  Noel,  we'll  never  get  there  in  time  at  this  rate.  Surely, 
sir,  the  orders  you  got  from  the  general  must  be  different  from  those 
that  came  to  the  post.  They  said,  make  all  speed,  lose  not  a  moment. 
Did  not  yours  say  so  too  ?" 

"  The  general  knew  very  well  that  I  had  marched  cavalry  too  often 
not  to  understand  just  how  to  get  there  in  time,"  was  Noel's  stately 
reply ;  and,  though  chafing  inwardly.  Mason  was  compelled  to  silence. 
Ten  o'clock  came,  and  still  it  was  no  better.  Then  both  the  lieutenant 
and  the  guide,  after  a  moment's  consultation  during  a  rest,  approached 
the  captain  and  begged  him  to  increase  the  gait;  and  when  they 
mounted,  the  command  did,  for  a  while,  move  on  at  a  jog,  which 
Mason  would  fain  have  increased  to  the  lope,  but  Noel  interposed. 
Midnight,  and  more  rests,  found  them  fully  ten  miles  behind  the  point 
wdiere  the  guide  and  the  lieutenant  had  planned  to  be.  Even  the  men 
had  begun  to  murmur  among  themselves,  and  to  contrast  the  captain's - 
spiritless  advance  with  Mr.  Mason's  lively  methods.  Two  o'clock, 
and  the  Pyramid  Range  was  still  far  away.  Daybreak  came,  and  Mason 
was  nearly  mad  with  misery,  the  guide  sullen  and  disgusted.  Broad 
daylight, — six  o'clock, — and  here  at  last  were  the  Pyramid  Buttes  at 
their  right  front,  and,  coming  towards  them  on  the  trail,  a  single  horse- 
man.    "  It  is  Sergeant  Luce,"  said  some  of  the  foremost  troopers. 

And  Luce  had  a  note,  which  he  handed  to  Lieutenant  Mason ;  but 
that  gentlernan  shook  his  head  and  indicated  Noel.  The  captain  took 
it  in  silence,  opened  it,  glanced  over  the  contents,  changed  color,  as  all 
could  see,  and  then  inquired, — 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  371 

"  How  far  is  it,  sergeant  ?" 

"  It  must  be  fifteen  miles  from  here,  sir.  I  came  slowly,  because 
my  horse  was  worn  out,  and  because  Captain  Lane  thought  that  I 
would  meet  the  troop  very  much  nearer  the  pass.  It's  more  than 
fifteen  miles,  I  reckon." 

"  Had  the  attack  begun  before  you  left  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  and  I  could  hear  the  shots  as  I  came  out  of  the  pass, — 
hear  them  distinctly." 

"  May  I  inquire  what  the  news  is,  captain  ?"  said  Mr.  Mason,  riding 
up  to  his  side. 

"  Well,"  was  the  reply,  "  Lane  writes  that  he  has  headed  the  Apaches, 
and  that  he  is  just  moving  in  to  the  attack. 

"  Will  you  permit  me  to  see  the  note,  sir?"  said  Mason,  trembling 
with  exasperation  at  the  indifferent  manner  in  which  it  was  received. 

Noel  hesitated  :  "  Presently, — presently,  Mr.  Mason.  We'll  move 
forward  at  a  trot,  now." 

Sergeant  Luce  reined  about,  and,  riding  beside  the  first  sergeant  of 
K  Troop,  told  him  in  low  tones  of  the  adventures  of  the  previous  day 
and  night,  and  the  fact  that  the  Apaches  were  there  just  north  of  the 
pass  and  in  complete  force.  The  result  seemed  to  be,  as  the  word  was 
passed  among  the  men,  to  increase  the  gait  to  such  an  extent  that  they 
crowded  upon  the  leaders,  and  Noel,  time  and  again,  threw  up  his  hand 
and  warned  the  men  not  to  ride  over  the  heels  of  his  horse. 

Seven  o'clock  came,  and  still  they  had  not  got  beyond  the  Pyramids. 
Eight  o'clock,  and  they  were  not  in  sight  of  the  pass.  Nine  o'clock, 
and  still  the  gorge  was  not  in  view.  It  was  not  until  nearly  ten  that 
the  massive  gate- way  seemed  to  open  before  them,  and  then,  far  to  the 
front,  their  eager  ears  could  catch  the  sound  of  sharp  and  rapid  firing. 

"  My  God  !"  said  Mason,  with  irrepressible  excitement,  "  there's  no 
question  about  it,  captain,  Lane's  surrounded  tliere  !  For  heaven's  sake, 
sir,  let's  get  ahead  to  his  support." 

"  Ride  forward,  sergeant,"  said  Noel  to  Luce,  "  and  show  us  the 
shortest  way  you  know  to  where  Captain  Lane  has  corralled  his  horses. 
— I  don't  like  the  idea  of  entering  that  pass  in  column,  Mr.  Mason.  The 
only  safe  way  to  do  it  will  be  to  dismount  and  throw  a  line  of  skir- 
mishers ahead.  If  Lane  is  surrounded,  the  Apaches  undoubtedly  will 
open  fire  on  us  as  we  pass  through." 

"  Suppose  they  do,  sir  :  we've  got  men  enough  to  drive  them  back. 
What  we  want  is  to  get  through  there  as  quickly  as  possible." 

But  Noel  shook  his  head,  and,  forming  line  to  the  front  at  a  trot, 
moved  forward  a  few  hundred  yards,  and  then,  to  the  intense  disgust 
of  Mr.  Mason,  ordered  the  first  platoon  dismounted  and  pushed  ahead 
as  skirmishers.  Compelled  to  leave  their  horses  with  number  four  of 
each  set,  the  other  troopers,  sullenly,  but  in  disciplined  silence,  advanced 
afoot  up  the  gentle  slope  which  led  to  the  heights  on  the  right  of  the 
gorge. 

Not  a  shot  impeded  their  advance  ;  not  a  sound  told  them  that  they 
were  even  watched.  But  far  up  through  the  pass  itself  the  sound  of 
sharp  firing  continued,  and  every  now  and  then  a  shrill  yell  indicated 
that  the  Apaches  were  evidently  having  the  best  of  it. 


372  ^'^0  SOLDIERS. 

Again  Mason  rode  to  his  captain.  "  I  beg  you,  sir,"  he  said, 
"  to  let  me  take  my  platoon,  or  the  other  one,  and  charge  through 
there.  It  isn't  possible  that  they  can  knock  more  than  one  or  two  of 
us  out  of  the  saddle ;  and  if  you  follow  with  the  rest  of  the  men  they 
can  easily  be  taken  care  of."     But  Noel  this  time  rebuked  him. 

"  Mr.  Mason,  I  have  had  too  much  of  your  interference,"  he  said, 
"  and  I  will  tolerate  no  more.  I  am  in  command  of  this  troop,  sir, 
and  I  am  responsible  for  its  proper  conduct." 

And  Mason,  rebuffed,  fell  back  without  further  word. 

The  pass  was  reached,  and  still  not  a  shot  had  been  fired.  Over 
the  low  ridge  the  dismounted  troopers  went,  and  not  an  Apache  was  in 
sight.  Then  at  la.st  it  became  evident  that  to  cross  the  stream  they 
would  have  to  ford  ;  and  then  the  "  recall"  was  sounded,  the  horses 
were  run  rapidly  forward  to  the  skirmish-line,  the  men  swung  into 
saddle,  the  rear  platoon  closed  on  the  one  in  front,  and  cautiously,  with 
Mason  leading  and  Noel  hanging  back  a  little  as  though  to  direct  the 
march  of  his  column,  the  troop  passed  through  the  river  and  came  out 
on  the  other  side.  The  moment  they  reached  the  bank.  Mason  struck  a 
trot  without  any  orders,  and  the  men  followed  him. 

Noel  hastened  forward,  shouting  out,  "  Walk,  walk."  But,  finding 
that  they  either  did  not  or  would  not  hear  him,  he  galloped  in  front  of 
the  troop,  and  sternly  ordered  the  leaders  to  decrease  their  gait  and  not 
again  to  take  the  trot  unless  he  gave  the  command. 

Just  at  this  minute,  from  the  heights  to  the  right  and  left,  half  a 
dozen  shots  were  fired  in  quick  succession  ;  a  trooper  riding  beside  the 
first  sergeant  threw  up  his  arms,  with  the  sudden  cry,  "  My  God  !  I've 
got  it !"  and  fell  back  from  the  saddle.  Noel  at  the  same  instant  felt  a 
twinge  along  his  left  arm,  and,  wheeling  his  horse  about,  shouted,  "  To 
the  rear  !  to  the  rear  !  We're  ambushed  !"  And,  despite  the  rallying 
cry  of  Mason  and  the  entreaties  of  tiie  guide,  the  men,  taking  the  cue 
from  their  leader,  reined  to  the  right  and  left  about  and  went  clattering 
out  of  the  pass. 

More  shots  came  from  the  Apaches,  some  aimed  at  the  fleeing  troop 
and  others  at  the  little  group  of  men  that  remained  behind ;  for  the 
poor  fellow  who  had  been  shot  through  the  breast  lay  insensible  by 
the  side  of  the  stream,  and  would  have  been  abandoned  to  his  fate  but 
for  the  courage  and  devotion  of  Mason  and  two  of  the  leading  men. 
Promptly  jumping  from  their  horses,  tiiey  raised  him  between  them, 
and,  laying  him  across  the  pommel  of  one  of  the  saddles,  supported  by 
the  troopers,  the  wounded  man  was  carried  back  to  the  ibrd,  and  from 
there  out  of  harm's  way. 

By  this  time  Noel,  at  full  gallop,  had  gone  four  or  five  hundred 
yards  to  the  rear,  and  tliere  the  first  sergeant — not  he — rallied  the  troop, 
reformed  it,  counted  fours,  and  faced  it  to  the  front. 

When  Mason  returned  to  them,  leading  the  two  troopers  and  the 
dying  man,  his  face  was  as  black  as  a  thunder-cloud.  He  rode  up  to 
his  captain,  who  was  stanching  with  a  handkerchief  a  little  stream  of 
blood  that  seemed  to  be  coming  down  his  left  arm,  and  addressed  to 
him  these  words : 

"Captain  Noel,  there  were  not  more  than  six  or  eight  Apaches 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  373 

guarding  those  heights.  There  was  no  excuse  in  God's  world,  sir,  for 
a  retreat.  I  can  take  my  platoon  and  go  through  there  now  without 
difficulty,  and  once  again,  sir,  I  implore  you  to  let  me  do  it." 

Noel's  reply  was,  "  I  have  already  heard  too  much  from  you  to-day, 
Mr.  Mason.  If  I  hear  one  more  word,  you  go  to  the  rear  in  arrest.  I 
am  wounded,  sir,  but  I  will  not  turn  over  this  command  to  you." 

"  Wounded  be  hanged !  Captain  Noel,  you've  got  a  scratch  of 
which  a  child  ought  to  be  ashamed,"  was  the  furious  reply,  upon  which 
Noel,  considering  that  he  must  at  all  hazards  preserve  the  dignity  of 
his  position,  ordered  Lieutenant  Mason  to  consider  himself  in  arrest. 
And,  dismounting,  and  calling  to  one  or  two  of  the  men  to  assist  him, 
the  captain  got  out  of  his  blouse  and  had  the  sleeve  of  his  under-shirt 
cut  oft",  and  then,  in  full  hearing  of  the  combat  up  the  pass,  proceeded 
to  have  a  scratch,  as  Mason  had  truly  designated  it,  stanched  and 
dressed. 

Meantime,  the  troop,  shamefaced  and  disgusted,  dismounted  and 
awaited  further  developments.  For  fifteen  minutes  they  remained 
there,  listening  to  the  battle  a  mile  away,  and  then  there  came  a  sound 
that  thrilled  every  man  with  excitement, — with  mad  longing  to  dash  to 
the  front :  there  came  crashes  of  musketry  that  told  of  the  arrival  of 
strong  reinforcements  for  one  party  or  another, — which  party  was  soon 
developed  by  the  glorious,  ringing  cheers  that  they  well  recognized  to 
be  those  of  their  comrades  of  Greene's  battalion. 

"  By  heavens !"  said  Mason,  with  a  groan,  "  after  all,  we  have  lost 
our  chance !  It's  Greene,  not  old  K  Troop,  that  got  there  in  time  to 
save  them." 

The  looks  that  were  cast  towards  their  new  captain  by  the  men, 
standing  in  sullen  silence  at  their  horses'  heads,  were  not  those  that  auy 
soldier  would  have  envied. 

Directing  the  first  sergeant  to  take  half  a  dozen  troopers  and  feel 
their  way  cautiously  to  the  front  and  ascertain  what  that  new  sound 
meant,  the  rest  of  the  men  meanwhile  to  remain  at  ease,  Noel  still  sat 
there  on  the  ground,  as  though  faint  from  loss  of  blood.  The  bleed- 
ing, however,  had  been  too  trifling  to  admit  of  any  such  supposition 
on  the  part  of  those  who  had  been  looking  on.  The  cheering  up  the 
pass  increased.  The  firing  rapidly  died  away.  Soon  it  was  seen  that 
the  first  sergeant  was  signalling,  and  presently  a  man  came  riding  back. 
The  sergeant  and  the  others  disappeared,  going  fearlessly  into  the  pass, 
and  evidently  indicating  by  their  movements  that  they  anticipated  no 
further  resistance.  The  arriving  horseman  dismounted,  saluted  the 
captain,  and  reported  substantially  that  the  pass  was  now  in  posses- 
sion of  Major  Greene's  men,  and  that  the  Apaches  were  in  full  flight 
towards  the  south,  some  of  the  troops  pursuing. 

Then  at  last  it  was  that  the  "  mount"  was  sounded  by  the  trumpeter, 
and  half  an  hour  afterwards — full  three  hours  after  they  should  have 
been  there — Captain  Noel  with  K  Troop  arrived  at  the  scene.  Lane, 
faint  from  loss  of  blood,  was  lying  under  a  tree ;  four  of  his  men  were 
killed ;  one  of  the  helpless  recaptured  women  had  been  shot  by  an  In- 
dian bullet ;  five  more  of  the  "  Devil's  own  D's"  were  lying  wounded 
around  among  the  rocks.  Desperate  had  been  the  defence ;  sore  had 
Vol.  XLV.— 25 


374  ^^O  SOLDIERS. 

been  their  need  ;  safe,  thoroughly  safe,  they  would  have  been  had  Noel 
got  there  in  time ;  but  it  was  Greene's  battalion  that  finally  reached 
them  only  at  the  last  moment.  And  yet  this  was  the  thrilling  announce- 
ment that  appeared  in  the  Queen  City  Chronicle  in  its  morning  edition, 
two  days  afterwards : 

"  Gallant  Noel !  Rescue  of  the  Indian  Captives  !  Stirring  Pursuit 
and  Fierce  Battle  with  the  Apaches ! 

"  A  despatch  received  last  night  by  the  Hon.  Amos  Withers  an- 
nounces the  return  from  the  front  of  Captain  Noel,  who  so  recently  left 
our  midst,  with  a  portion  of  his  troop,  bringing  with  him  the  women 
and  children  who  had  been  run  off  by  the  Apaches  on  their  raid  among 
the  ranches  south  of  their  reservation.  The  captain  reports  a  severe 
fight,  in  which  many  of  the  regiment  were  killed  and  wounded,  he 
himself,  though  making  light  of  the  matter,  receiving  a  bullet  through 
the  left  arm. 

"  While  the  rest  of  the  command  had  gone  on  in  pursuit  of  the 
Apaches,  the  captain  was  sent  by  the  battalion  commander  to  escort 
the  captives  back  to  the  railway. 

"  This  despatch,  though  of  a  private  character,  is  fully  substantiated 
by  the  official  report  of  the  general  commanding  the  department  to  the 
Adjutant-General  of  the  army.     It  reads  as  follows : 

" '  Captain  Noel,  of  the  Eleventh  Cavalry,  has  just  reached  the 
railway,  bringing  with  him  all  but  one  of  the  women  and  children 
whom  the  Apaches  had  carried  off  into  captivity.  The  other  was  shot 
by  a  bullet  in  the  desperate  fight  which  occurred  in  San  Simon  Pass 
between  the  commands  of  Captains  Lane  and  Noel  and  the  Apaches, 
whose  retreat  they  were  endeavoring  to  head  off.  Greene's  battalion 
of  the  Eleventh  arrived  in  time  to  take  part ;  but  on  their  appear- 
ance the  Apaches  fled  through  the  mountains  in  the  wildest  confusion, 
leaving  much  of  their  plunder  behind  them. 

"  *  It  is  impossible  as  yet  to  give  accurate  accounts  of  the  killed 
and  wounded,  but  our  losses  are  reported  to  have  been  heavy.' 

"  How  thoroughly  have  the  predictions  of  the  Chronicle  with  regard 
to  this  gallant  officer  been  fulfilled !  To  his  relatives  and  his  many 
friends  in  our  midst  the  Chronicle  extends  its  most  hearty  congratula- 
tions. We  predict  that  the  welcome  which  Captain  Noel  will  receive 
will  be  all  that  his  fondest  dreams  could  possibly  have  cherished." 

XVI. 

For  a  week  the  story  of  Gordon  Noel's  heroism  was  the  talk  of 
Queen  City  society.  He  1  ad  led  the  charge  upon  the  Indians  after  a 
pursuit  of  over  a  hundred  miles  through  the  desert.  He  had  fought 
his  way  to  the  cave  in  which  those  poor  captive  women  were  guarded, 
and  had  himself  cut  the  thongs  that  bound  them.  He  was  painfully 
wounded,  but  never  quit  the  fight  till  the  last  savage  was  driven  from 
the  field.  For  daring  and  brilliant  conduct  he  was  to  be  promoted 
over  the  heads  of  all  the  captains  in  his  regiment.  His  name  was 
already  before  the  President  for  a  vacancy  in  the  Adjutant-General's 
Department,  and  the  appointment  would  be  announced  at  once.     He 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  375 

was  coming  East  just  as  soon  as  the  surgeon  said  he  was  well  enough 
to  travel.  Mrs.  Noel  wanted  to  join  him,  but  he  had  telegraphed 
saying  no,  that  he  would  soon  be  with  her. 

So  rang  the  chorus  for  several  days.  At  the  club  the  men  shook 
hands  over  the  news,  and  sent  telegrams  of  praise  and  congratulation 
to  Noel,  and  drank  his  health  in  bumpers ;  and  two  or  three  "  old  sore- 
heads," who  ventured  to  point  out  that  the  official  reports  were  not  yet 
in,  were  pooh-poohed  and  put  down. 

Amos  Withers  had  left  for  Washington  on  a  midnight  train  im- 
mediately after  furnishing  the  Chronicle  with  the  contents  of  his  de- 
spatch, making  no  allusion  to  that  part  of  it  which  said,  "Now  push 
for  that  vacancy.  Not  an  instant  must  be  lost."  Nobody  could  say 
nay  to  the  man  who  had  subscribed  the  heaviest  sum  to  the  campaign 
fund  in  his  own  State,  and  therefore  both  its  Senators  and  half  its 
representatives  in  the  House  went  witii  him  to  the  President  to  urge 
the  immediate  nomination  of  Captain  Noel  to  the  majority  in  the  Ad- 
jutant-General's Department  made  vacant  by  the  promotion  consequent 
upon  the  retirement  of  one  of  its  oldest  members.  Already  the  War 
Department  had  furnished  the  Executive  with  the  names  and  records 
of  the  four  men  whom  it  considered  most  deserving,  and  Gordon  Noel's 
name  was  not  one  of  the  four.  But  what  was  that  in  comparison  with 
the  eminent  pecuniary  and  political  services  of  Mr.  Withers,  when  the 
nephew  had  just  behaved  so  superbly  in  action  ? 

Meantime,  the  Apaches  had  scattered  through  the  mountains  and 
escaped  across  the  border,  the  remnant  of  Lane's  troop  taking  part  in 
the  pursuit,  and  they,  with  their  commander,  only  slowly  returning  to 
the  railway.  For  three  or  four  days  Noel  had  the  wires  and  the  corre- 
spondents pretty  much  to  himself;  but  then  some  of  those  enterprising 
news-gatherers  had  been  getting  particulars  from  the  men,  and  there 
were  two  or  three  of  K  Troop  in  the  detachment  who  could  not  conceal 
their  derision  and  contempt  when  the  newspaper-men  spoke  of  the 
bravery  of  their  captain.  This  set  the  correspondents  to  ferreting,  and 
then  the  despatches  began  to  take  a  different  color.  The  very  day  that 
Mabel  received  her  first  letter  from  her  husband,  and  was  reading  ex- 
tracts from  it  to  envious  friends  who  had  come  in  to  swell  the  chorus 
of  jubilee  and  congratulation,  an  evening  paper  intimated  that  recent 
despatches  received  from  the  seat  of  war  revealed  a  different  state  of 
affairs  than  was  popularly  supposed. 

But  by  this  time  interest  was  waning.  It  is  the  first  impression 
that  is  always  the  strongest,  the  first  story  that  is  longest  remembered, 
and  no  man  who  has  believed  one  version  will  accept  the  truth  without 
vigorous  resistance.  In  his  letter  to  his  wife,  Noel  had  spoken  modestly 
of  himself  and  slightingly  of  his  wounds.  This  only  made  her  wor- 
ship him — her  hero,  her  gallant  Gordon — the  more  insanely.  He  inti- 
mated that  he  had  been  compelled  to  place  in  arrest  one  of  the  promi- 
nent officers  of  the  regiment  for  misconduct  in  the  face  of  the  enemy  ; 
and  this  and  previous  matters,  he  said,  would  surely  make  of  this  officer 
an  unrelenting  foe.  She  need  not  be  surprised,  therefore,  if  this  gen- 
tleman should  strive  to  do  him  grievous  harm.  Mabel  blushed  be- 
comingly as  she  read  these  lines  to  some  of  her  friends,  and  that  night 


376  ^'TTO  SOLDIERS. 

at  the  club  it  was  hinted  that  Lane  had  been  placed  in  close  arrest  for 
failing  to  support  Noel  in  his  desperate  assault.  Just  at  this  time,  too, 
Mr.  Withers  came  back  from  Washington,  looking  mysterious. 

The  next  published  despatches  were  from  the  general  himself.  He 
was  incensed  over  the  escape  of  the  Apaches.  Measures  for  the  capture 
were  complete,  and  it  was  broadly  hinted  that  a  certain  officer  would  be 
brought  to  trial  for  his  failure  to  carry  out  positive  orders. 

"  It  is  believed,"  said  the  Chronicle,  "  that  the  officer  referred  to  is 
well  known  in  our  community,  as  he  had,  oddly  enough,  been  a  prede- 
cessor in  the  recruiting-service  of  the  actual  hero  of  the  campaign." 

Two  weeks  went  by.  There  was  no  announcement  of  Noel's  name 
as  promoted.  Other  matters  occupied  the  attention  of  the  club  and  the 
coteries,  and  no  one  knew  just  what  it  all  meant  when  it  was  announced 
that  Mrs.  Noel  had  suddenly  left  for  the  frontier  to  join  her  husband. 
Perhaps  his  wounds  were  more  severe  than  at  first  reported.  Then  it 
was  noticed  that  Mr.  Withers  was  in  a  very  nervous  and  irritable  frame 
of  mind,  that  constant  despatches  were  passing  between  him  and  Cap- 
tain Noel  in  the  West,  and  that  suddenly  he  departed  again  on  some 
mysterious  errand  for  Washington.  And  then  it  was  announced  that 
Captain  Noel  would  not  be  able  to  visit  the  East  as  had  been  expected. 

All  the  same  it  came  as  a  shock  which  completely  devastated  the 
social  circles  of  the  Queen  City  when  it  was  announced  in  the  New 
York  and  Chicago  papers  that  a  general  court-martial  had  been  ordered 
to  assemble  at  Fort  Gregg,  New  Mexico,  for  the  trial  of  Captain  Gor- 
don Noel,  Eleventh  Cavalry,  on  charges  of  misbehavior  in  the  face  of 
the  enemy,  and  conduct  unbecoming  an  officer  and  a  gentleman. 

The  Chronicle  made  no  allusion  to  the  matter  until  after  it  was 
heralded  over  the  city  by  the  other  journals.  Then  it  announced  that 
it  was  in  possession  of  information  showing  conclusively  that  Captain 
Noel  was  the  victim  of  the  envy  of  certain  officers  in  his  regiment,  and 
that  the  charges  had  been  trumped  up  from  the  false  and  prejudiced 
statement  of  the  man  whom  he  had  been  compelled  to  place  in  arrest 
for  misconduct  in  action.  "  Captain  Noel  had  demanded  a  court- 
martial,"  said  the  Chronicle,  "  that  he  might  be  triumphantly  vindi- 
cated, as  he  undoubtedly  would  be." 

At  the  club  several  men  surrounded  Lieutenant  Bowen  with  eager 
inquiry  as  to  the  facts  in  the  case.  Bowen,  who  was  now  in  charge  of 
the  rendezvous  as  Noel's  successor,  was  very  reticent  when  interrogated. 
He  said  that  while  an  officer  might  demand  a  court  of  inquiry,  he  could 
not  demand  a  court-martial ;  they  were  entirely  different  things ;  and  it 
was  certainly  the  latter  that  had  been  ordered. 

"  Was  there  not  some  likelihood  of  malice  and  envy  being  at  the 
bottom  of  the  charges?"  he  was  asked.  *'  And  was  it  not  unfair  to  let 
him  be  tried  by  officers  prejudiced  against  him?" 

Bowen  said  he  did  not  belong  to  the  Eleventh,  but  he  knew  it  well 
enough  to  say  no  to  the  first  part  of  the  question.  As  to  the  other, 
there  were  only  two  officers  from  that  regiment  on  the  court,  and  one 
was  Noel's  old  friend  and  colonel, — Riggs. 

It  was  in  the  midst  of  this  talk  that  Mr.  Amos  Withers  had  sud- 
denly appeared  and  begged  a  few  words  in  private  with  Mr.  Bowen. 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  377 

Withers  was  in  a  state  of  nervous  excitement,  as  any  one  could 
see.  He  talked  eagerly,  even  pleadingly,  with  the  silent  lieutenant,  and 
at  last  suddenly  arose  and,  with  the  look  of  a  defeated  and  discomfited 
man,  left  the  club-house,  entered  his  carriage,  and  was  driven  rapidly 
away. 

That  night  an  oflficer  from  the  War  Department  arrived  in  the 
Queen  City,  and  was  closeted  for  a  while  with  Lieutenant  Bowen,  after 
which  the  two  went  to  the  Chief  of  Police,  and,  in  company  with  him, 
visited  the  cell  where  Taintor,  deserter  and  forger,  was  confined,  took 
his  statement  and  that  of  the  Chief,  and  with  these  documents  the 
officer  went  on  to  division  head-quarters. 

Meantime,  the  campaign  had  come  to  an  end.  Captain  Noel  had 
reported,  in  arrest,  to  the  commanding  officer  at  Fort  Gregg,  and  Mrs. 
Riggs  had  tearfully  greeted  him  :  "  She  would  so  love  to  have  him 
under  her  roof,  that  she  might  show  her  sympathy  and  friendsliip ;  but 
so  many  officers  of  high  rank  were  coming  on  the  court  that  the  colonel 
was  compelled  to  give  every  bit  of  room  he  had  to  them."  Noel 
thanked  her  nervously,  and  said  he  could  be  comfortable  anywhere,  but 
his  wife  was  coming :  she  had  telegraphed  that  she  could  not  be  sepa- 
rated from  him  when  he  was  suifering  wrong  and  outrage.  Captain 
and  Mrs.  Lowndes,  moved  to  instant  sympathy,  begged  that  he  would 
make  their  quarters  his  home,  and  j)laced  their  best  room  at  his  dis- 
posal. 

Two  evenings  afterwards  he  was  permitted  to  go  himself  to  the  rail- 
way to  meet  poor  Mabel,  who  threw  herself  into  his  arms  and  almost 
sobbed  her  heart  out  at  sight  of  his  now  haggard  and  care-worn  face. 
Mrs.  Lowndes  then  came  forward  and  strove  to  comfort  her,  while 
Noel  rushed  off  to  send  some  telegrams.  Then  they  drove  out  to  the 
post,  and  Mabel's  spirits  partially  revived  when  she  found  that  it  was 
not  a  prison  she  had  come  to  share  with  her  husband.  Everybody  was 
so  gentle  and  kind  to  her,  she  began  to  believe  there  was  nothing  very 
serious  in  the  matter,  after  all. 

It  lacked  yet  five  days  to  the  meeting  of  the  court,  and  in  the  inter- 
vening time  there  arrived  at  the  post  a  prominent  and  distinguished 
lawyer  from  the  East,  sent  to  conduct  the  defence  by  Mr.  Withers's 
orders;  and  many  a  long  talk  did  he  hold  with  his  client  and  the 
officers  who  were  gathering  at  Gregg. 

The  charges  of  misconduct  in  face  of  the  enemy  had  been  preferred 
by  the  Depai'tment  commander,  who  cited  as  his  witnesses  Captain 
Lane,  Lieutenant  Mason,  Lieutenant  Royce,  the  guide,  and  two  or 
three  non-commissioned  officers.  To  the  charge  of  "  conduct  unbecom- 
ing an  officer  and  a  gentleman"  there  were  specifications  setting  forth 
that  he  had  caused  to  be  circulated  and  published  reports  to  the  effect 
that  it  was  his  command  that  had  been  severely  engaged,  and  his  com- 
mand that  had  rescued  the  captives  and  defeated  the  Indians,  which 
statements  he  well  knew  to  be  false.  Two  or  three  correspondents  and 
railway  employees  and  the  telegraph  operator  were  witnesses.  This 
would  be  a  hard  one  to  prove  affirmatively,  as  the  judge-advocate  found 
when  he  examined  his  witnesses  as  they  arrived,  and  the  great  lawyer 
assured  the  accused  officer  that  he  could  secure  him  an  acquittal  on  that 


378  'PWO  SOLDIERS. 

charge.  The  real  danger  lay  in  the  testimony  of  Captain  Lane  and 
Lieutenant  Mason,  who  had  not  yet  come. 

And  now,  hour  after  hour,  for  two  days,  Mabel  was  reading  in  her 
husband's  face  the  utter  hopelessness  that  possessed  him ;  nay,  more, 
the  truth  was  being  revealed  to  her  in  all  its  damning  details.  It 
might  be  impossible  for  the  prosecution  to  prove  that  he  had  actually 
caused  the  false  and  boastful  stories  to  be  given  to  the  press  and  the 
public ;  but  how  about  the  telegrams  and  letters  Mr.  Withers  had  so 
proudly  come  to  show  her?  How  about  the  telegrams  and  letters  she 
herself  had  received?  What  impression  could  she  derive  from  them 
but  that  he  was  the  hero  of  the  whole  affair,  and  that  he  was  lying 
painfully  wounded  when  he  wrote?  The  gash  through  the  beautiful 
white  arm  turned  out  to  be  a  mere  scratch  upon  the  skin,  that  a  pin 
might  have  made.  It  was  Greene's  command  from  Fort  Graham  that 
had  rescued  Lane,  and  Lane  with  his  men  who  had  rescued  the  cap- 
tives, and  then  fought  so  hard,  so  desperately,  against  such  fearful  odds, 
and  sustained  their  greatest  losses,  while  her  hero, — her  Gordon, — with 
nearly  fifty  men,  was  held  only  a  mile  away  by  half  a  dozen  ragamuf- 
fins in  the  rocks.  She  had  almost  adored  him,  believing  him  godlike 
in  courage  and  magnanimity ;  but  now  on  every  side  the  real  facts  were 
coming  to  light,  and  she  even  wrung  them  from  his  reluctant  lips.  And 
yet — and  yet — he  was  her  husband,  and  she  loved  him. 

Again  and  again  did  she  question  Mr,  Falconer,  the  eminent  counsel, 
as  to  the  possibilities.  This  gentleman  had  fought  all  through  the  war 
of  the  rebellion,  and  had  won  high  commendation  for  bravery.  He 
had  taken  the  case  because  he  believed,  on  Withers's  statement,  that 
Noel  was  a  wronged  and  injured  man,  and  because,  possibly,  a  fee  of 
phenomenal  proportion  could  be  looked  for.  He  met  among  the  old 
captains  of  the  Eleventh  men  whom  he  had  known  in  Virginia  in  the 
war-days,  and  learned  from  them  what  Noel's  real  reputation  was,  and, 
beyond  peradveuture,  how  he  had  shirked  and  played  the  coward  in 
the  last  campaign  :  so  that  he,  who  had  known  Mabel  Vincent  from 
her  babyhood  and  loved  her  old  father,  now  shrank  from  the  sorrow  of 
having  to  tell  her  the  truth.  Yet  she  demanded  it,  and  he  had  to  say 
that  her  husband's  fate  hinged  on  the  evidence  that  might  be  given  by 
Captain  Lane  and  Mr.  Mason. 

That  very  night  these  two  officers  arrived,  together  with  three  mem- 
bers of  the  court.  The  following  day  at  ten  o'clock  the  court  was  to 
begin  its  session,  and  four  of  its  members  were  still  to  come.  That 
niglit  Mr.  Falconer  and  her  husband  were  closeted  with  several  men  in 
succession,  seeking  evidence  for  the  defence.  That  night  there  came  a 
despatch  from  Withers  saying  he  had  done  his  best  in  Washington,  but 
that  it  seemed  improbable  that  the  President  would  interfere  and  accept 
Noel's  resignation  from  the  service. 

Noel  showed  this  to  Mabel  and  sank  upon  the  sofa  with  a  groan 
of  despair. 

"  Oh,  my  darling  !"  she  whispered,  kneeling  by  his  side  and  throwing 
her  arms  about  his  neck,  "  don't  give  way  !  There  must  be  hope  yet ! 
They  cannot  prove  such  cruel  charges !  There  must  be  a  way  of 
averting  this  trouble." 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  379 

"  There  is  one,"  said  he,  starting  up.  "  There  is  one,  if  you  will 
only  do  it  to  save  me." 

"  What  would  I  not  do  to  save  you,  Gordon  ?"  she  asked,  though 
her  face  was  paling  now  with  awful  dread  of  what  the  demand 
might  be. 

"  Mabel,  my  wife,  it  is  to  see — him  at  once.  There  is  nothing  that 
he  will  not  do  for  you.  I  know  it — for  I  know  what  he  has  done. 
See  him.  You  know  what  to  say.  I  cannot  prompt  you.  But  get 
him  to  tell  as  little  as  he  possibly  can  in  regard  to  this  case." 

"  Gordon  !"  she  cried,  "  you  ask  me  to  do  this,  after  the  great 
wrong  I  did  him  ?" 

"  There  is  no  other  way,"  was  the  sullen  answer.     And  he  turned 
moodily  from  her  side,  leaving  her  stunned,  speechless. 

XVII. 

Somewhere  about  ten  o'clock  that  night  the  judge-advocate  of  the 
court  dropped  in  at  the  "  bachelor  quarters,"  where  both  Lane  and 
Mason  had  been  made  welcome,  and  asked  to  see  those  gentlemen.  He 
was  conversing  with  them  over  the  affair  at  the  San  Simon,  when  Cap- 
tain Lowndes  was  ushered  into  the  room. 

"  Am  I  intruding  ?"  asked  the  latter.  "  I  merely  wished  to  speak 
to  Lane  a  moment." 

"  By  no  means,  Lowndes.  Come  right  in.  We'll  be  through  in 
one  minute. — Then,  as  I  understand  you,  Lane,  you  could  distinctly 
see  K  Troop  as  it  forded  the  stream,  and  could  see  the  Apaches  who 
fired  upon  them  ?" 

"  Yes, — distinctly.  I  was  praying  for  their  coming,  as  our  ammuni- 
tion was  running  low.  The  Indians  seemed  so  encouraged  by  the  ease 
with  which  they  drove  them  back  that  the  whole  band  swarmed  out 
from  cover  and  crowded  on  us  at  once.  It  was  in  the  next  fifteen 
minutes  that  my  men  were  killed, — and  that  poor  woman." 

"  And  there  were  only  six  Indians  who  opened  fire  on  Noel  ?" 

"  Only  six,  sir." 

The  judge-advocate  was  silent  a  moment.  "There  is,  of  course,  a 
chance  that  our  absentees  may  get  here  to-morrow  morning  in  time. 
If  they  do,  you  will  be  the  first  witness  called ;  if  they  do  not,  we  ad- 
journ to  await  their  arrival.  It  promises  to  be  a  long  case.  A  tele- 
gram has  just  reached  me,  saying  that  additional  and  grave  charges  are 
being  sent  by  mail  from  division  head-quarters." 

Captain  Lowndes  listened  to  this  brief  conversation  with  an  expres- 
sion of  deep  perplexity  on  his  kindly  face,  and  as  soon  as  the  judge- 
advocate  had  gone  and  Mason  had  left  the  room  he  turned  to  Lane : 

"  You  know  they  are  staying  with  us.  That  poor  girl  has  come 
all  this  weary  journey  to  be  with  him,  and  there  was  absolutely  no 
place  where  she  could  lay  her  head  unless  we  opened  our  doors  and 
took  him  in  too." 

Lane  bowed  assent :  "  I  had  heard,  Lowndes.  It  was  like  you  and 
that  dear  wife  of  yours." 

"  Lane,"  spoke  the  older  man,  impetuously,  after  a  moment  of  em- 


380  ^^^''O  SOLDIERS. 

barrassed  silence,  "  I  want  you  to  do  something  for  my  wife,  and  for 
me.  Come  home  with  me  for  a  few  minutes.  You  won't  see  him ; 
but — it  is  that  heart-broken  girl.  She  begs  that  you  will  see  her, — 
to-night.     Here  is  a  little  note." 

Lane's  sad  face  had  grown  deathly  pale.  He  looked  wonderiugly 
in  his  companion's  eyes  a  moment,  then  slowly  took  the  note  and  left 
the  room,  leaving  Lowndes  to  pace  the  floor  in  much  disquiet. 

In  five  minutes  the  former  reappeared  in  the  door-way.  "  Come," 
he  said,  and  himself  led  the  way  out  into  the  starlit  night.  Not  a 
word  was  spoken  by  either  man  as  they  slowly  walked  down  the  row. 
Arriving  at  his  quarters,  Captain  Lowndes  ushered  his  friend  into  the 
little  army  parlor,  and  Mrs.  Lowndes  came  forward,  extending  both  her 
hands.  ''  It  is  good  of  you  to  come,"  she  said.  "  I  will  let  her  know, 
at  once." 

Two  shaded  lamps  cast  a  soft,  subdued  light  over  the  simply-fur- 
nished little  room.  What  a  contrast  to  the  sumptuous  surroundings 
of  the  home  in  which  he  had  last  met  her !  Lane  stood  by  the  little 
work-table  a  moment,  striving  to  subdue  the  violent  beating  of  his 
heart  and  the  tremors  that  shook  his  frame.  Not  once  had  he  seen  her 
since  that  wretched  night  in  the  library, — in  that  man  Noel's  arms. 
Not  once  had  he  permitted  the  thought  of  seeing  her  to  find  a  lodge- 
ment. But  all  was  different  now  :  she  was  well-nigh  crushed,  heart- 
broken ;  she  had  been  deceived  and  tricked  ;  she  was  here  practically 
friendless.  *'  I  well  know  that  at  your  hands  I  deserve  no  such  mercy," 
she  had  written,  "  but  a  hopeless  woman  begs  that  you  will  come  to 
her  for  a  few  moments, — for  a  very  few  words." 

.  And  now  he  heard  her  foot-fall  on  the  stairs.  She  entered,  slowly, 
and  then  stopped  short  almost  at  the  threshold.  Heavens !  how  he 
had  aged  and  changed  !  How  deep  were  the  lines  about  the  kind  gray 
eyes !  how  sad  and  worn  was  the  stern,  soldierly  face  !  Her  eyes  filled 
with  tears  on  the  very  instant,  and  she  hovered  there,  irresolute,  not 
knowing  what  to  do,  how  to  address  him.  It  was  Lane  that  came  to 
the  rescue.  For  a  moment  he  stood  there  appalled  as  his  eyes  fell  upon 
the  woman  whom  he  had  so  utterly — so  faithfully  loved.  Where  was 
all  the  playful  light  that  so  thrilled  and  bewitched  him  as  it  flickered 
about  the  corners  of  her  pretty  mouth  ?  Whither  had  fled  the  bright 
coloring,  the  radiance,  the  gladness,  that  lived  in  that  exquisite  face? 
Was  this  heavy-eyed,  pallid,  nerveless  being,  standing  with  hanging 
head  before  him,  the  peerless  queen  he  had  so  loyally  and  devotedly 
served, — whose  faintest  wish  was  to  him  a  royal  mandate, — to  kiss 
whose  soft  white  hand  was  a  joy  unutterable?  All  this  flashed  through 
his  mind  in  the  instant  of  her  irresolute  pause.  Then  the  great  pity 
of  a  strong  and  manful  heart,  the  tenderness  that  lives  ever  in  the 
bravest,  sent  him  forward  to  her  side.  All  thought  of  self  and  suffer- 
ing, of  treachery  and  concealment  and  deception,  vanished  at  once  at 
the  sight  of  her  bitter  woe.  His  own  brave  eyes  filled  up  with  tears 
he  would  gladly  have  hidden,  but  that  she  saw,  and  was  comforted. 
He  took  her  limp,  nerveless  hand  and  led  her  to  a  chair,  saying  only 
her  name, — "  Mrs.  Noel." 

For  several  minutes  she  could  not  speak,  but  wept  unrestrainedly, 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  381 

he,  poor  fellow,  walking  the  floor  the  while,  longing  to  comfort  her, 
yet  powerless.  What  could  he  say?  What  could  he  do?  At  last  she 
seemed  to  regain  her  self-control. 

"  Captain  Lane,"  she  said,  "  it  is  useless  for  me  to  tell  you  how 
much  I  have  learned,  since  coming  here,  of  which  I  was  ignorant  before. 
Every  effort  has  been  made  to  spare  me  ;  people  have  been  so  considerate 
and  kind,  that  the  truth,  as  I  am  beginning  to  see,  has  been  kept  from 
me.  Mr.  Falconer,  Captain  Noel's — our  lawyer,  has  at  last  admitted  that 
almost  everything  depends  upon  your  evidence.  Forgive  me,  if  you 
can,  that  I  believed  for  a  while  that  you  inspired  the  charges  against 
him.  I  know  now  that  you  refused  to  press  the  matter,  and  that — that 
I  am  not  to  blame  any  one.  In  his  deep  misfortune  my  duty  is  with 
my  husband,  and  he — consented  that  I  should  see  you.  Captain  Lane," 
she  said,  rising  as  she  spoke,  "  do  not  try  to  spare  my  feelings  now.  I 
am  prepared  for  anything, — ready  to  share  his  downfall.  If  you  are 
asked  as  to  the  contents  of  the  note  you  sent  him  just  before  the  fight, 
must  you  tell  what  they  were?     Do  you  recall  them?" 

"  I  must,  Mrs.  Noel.  I  remember  almost  the  exact  words,"  he 
replied,  gently,  sorrowfully. 

"  But  that  is  all,  is  it  not  ?  You  know  nothing  more  about  the 
delay  in  reaching  you?"  And  her  eyes,  piteous  in  entreaty,  iu  shame, 
in  suffering,  sought  one  instant  his  sad  face,  then  fell  before  the  sorrow 
and  sympathy  in  his. 

For  a  moment  there  was  no  answer ;  and  at  last  she  looked  up, 
alarmed. 

"  Mrs.  Noel,"  he  said,  "  I  could  not  help  it.  I  was  eagerly  await- 
ing their  coming.  I  saw  them  approach  the  ford  and  the  pass.  I  saw 
that  there  were  only  six  Apaches  to  resist  them  ;  and  the  next  thing  I 
saw  was  the  retreat." 

"  Oh,  Captain  Lane  !"  she  cried,  "  must  you  testify  as  to  this  ?" 
And  her  trembling  hands  were  clasped  in  misery.  "  Is  there  no  way, 
— no  way?" 

"  Even  if  there  were,"  he  answered,  slowly  and  mournfully,  "  Mr. 
Mason's  testimony  and  that  of  the  men  would  be  still  more  conclusive." 

Throwing  herself  upon  the  sofa,  the  poor  girl  gave  way  to  a  fit 
of  uncontrollable  weeping;  and  Lane  stood  helplessly,  miserably  by. 
Once  he  strove  to  speak,  but  she  could  not  listen.  He  brought  her  a 
glass  of  water  presently  and  begged  her  to  drink  it :  there  was  still 
something  he  had  to  suggest.  She  took  the  goblet  from  his  hand  and 
looked  up  eagerly  through  her  tears.  He  was  thinking  only  of  her — 
for  her — now.  The  man  who  had  robbed  him  of  happiness,  of  love, 
of  wife  and  home  and  hope,  and  who  had  done  the  utmost  that  he 
dared  to  rob  him  of  honor  and  his  soldier  reputation, — the  man  now 
wretchedly  listening  overhead  to  the  murmur  of  voices  below, — he 
forgot  entirely  except  as  the  man  she  loved. 

"  Mrs.  Noel,  your  friends — his  friends — are  most  influential.  Can 
they  not  be  telegraphed  to  that  his  resignation  will  be  tendered  ?  Can 
they  not  stop  the  trial  in  that  way?" 

"  It  is  hopeless.  It  has  been  tried,  and  refused.  If  he  is  found 
guilty  there  is  nothing  left, — nothing  left,"  she  moaned,  "  but  to  take 


382  '^WO  SOLDIERS. 

him  back  to  the  East  with  me,  and,  with  the  little  we  have  now,  to  buy 
some  quiet  home  in  the  country,  where  our  wretched  past  need  not  be 
known, — where  we  can  be  forgotten, — where  my  poor  Ijusband  need  not 
have  to  hang  his  head  in  shame.  Oh,  God  !  oh,  God  !  what  a  ruined 
life !" 

"  Is  there  nothing  I  can  do  for  you,  Mrs.  Noel  ?  Listen  :  that  court 
cannot  begin  the — the  case  to-morrow.  Four  members  are  still  to 
come.  It  may  be  two  days  yet, — perhaps  three.  Perhaps  Mr.  Withers 
and  his  friends  do  not  appreciate  the  danger  and  have  not  brought 
pressure  to  bear  on  the  President,  but — forgive  me  for  the  pain  this 
must  give  you — there  are  other,  new  charges  coming  from  division 
head-quarters,  that  I  fear  will  harm  him  still  more.  I  grieve  to  have 
to  tell  you  this.  Try  and  make  Mr.  Withers  understand.  Try  and  get 
the  resignation  through.  If  you  will  see  Mr.  Falconer  and — and  the 
captain  now,  I  can  get  the  telegraph  operator." 

"  What  charges — what  new  accusations  do  you  mean?"  she  asked, 
her  eyes  dilating  with  dread.  "  Are  we  not  crushed  enough  already? 
Oh,  forgive  me.  Captain  Lane!  I  ought  not  to  speak  bitterly,  you — 
you  have  been  so  good,  so  gentle.  You,  the  last  man  on  earth  from 
whom  I  should  seek  mercy,"  she  broke  forth  impetuously, — "  you  are 
yet  the  one  to  whom  I  first  appeal.  Oli,  if  after  this  night  I  never  see 
you  again,  believe  that  I  suffer,  that  I  realize  the  wrong  I  have  done. 
I  was  never  worthy  the  faintest  atom  of  your  regard  ;  but  there's  one 
thing — one  thing  you  must  hear.  I  wrote  you  fully,  frankly,  im- 
ploringly, before — before  you  came — and  saw.  Indeed,  indeed,  I  had 
waited  days  for  your  rej)ly,  refusing  to  see  him  until  after  papa  died  ; 
and  then  I  was  weak  and  ill.  You  never  read  the  letter.  You  sent 
them  all  back  unopened.  I  cannot  look  in  your  face.  It  may  have 
been  hard,  for  a  while,  but  the  time  will  soon  come  when  you  will 
thank  God — thank  God — I  proved  faithless." 

And  then,  leaving  him  to  make  his  own  way  from  the  house,  she 
rushed  sobbing  to  her  room.  When  next  he  saw  her,  Reginald,  her 
brother,  with  Lowndes  and  his  tearful  wife,  was  lifting  her  into  the 
ambulance  that  was  to  take  them  to  the  railway,  and  the  doctor  rode 
away  beside  them.     But  this  was  ten  days  after. 

True  to  Lane's  prediction,  the  court  met  and  adjourned  on  the 
following  day.  Colonel  Stannard  and  Major  Turner  telegraphed  that 
they  were  delayed  en  route  to  the  railway,  and  nothing  was  heard  from 
the  other  missing  members.  Two  days  more  found  the  court  in  readi- 
ness, but  the  trial  did  not  begin.  There  arrived  on  the  express  from 
the  East,  the  night  before  all  seemed  ready  for  the  opening  session, 
Lieutenant  Bowen,  of  the  cavalry  recruiting-service,  with  two  guards 
who  escorted  the  ex-clerk  Taintor. 

Telegrams  for  Captain  Noel  had  been  coming  in  quick  succession, 
but  he  himself  was  not  seen.  It  was  Lowndes  who  took  the  replies 
to  the  office.  The  first  meeting  of  the  court  was  to  have  occurred  on 
Monday.  Tuesday  evening  the  judge-advocate  sent  to  the  accused 
officer  a  copy  of  the  additional  specifications  to  the  charge  of  conduct 
unbecoming  an  officer  and  a  gentleman,  and  notified  him  that  the  wit- 
nesses had  just  arrived  by  train. 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  383 

At  four  o'clock  Wednesday  morning  Mre.  Lowndes  was  aroused  by 
a  tapping  at  her  door,  and  recognized  the  voice  of  Mrs.  Noel  calling 
her  name.  Hastily  she  arose  and  went  to  her,  finding  her  trembling 
and  terrified.  Gordon,  she  said,  had  been  in  such  misery  that  he  would 
not  undress  and  try  to  sleep,  but  had  been  restlessly  pacing  the  floor  until 
after  midnight.  Then  he  had  gone  down  to  make  some  memoranda, 
he  said,  at  the  desk  in  which  he  and  Mr.  Falconer  had  their  papers, 
and,  as  she  could  not  sleep,  she  soon  followed  ;  but  he  was  not  there. 
Occasionally  he  had  gone  out  late  at  night  and  walked  about  the  parade 
after  every  one  but  the  guard  had  gone  to  bed,  and  she  thought  he 
must  have  done  so  this  time,  and  so  waited,  and  waited,  and  peered 
out  on  the  parade  and  could  see  nothing  of  him.  At  last  she  could 
bear  it  no  longer. 

Lowndes  had  heard  the  sobbing  voice  and  one  or  two  words.  He 
was  up  and  dressed  in  no  time,  and  speedily  found  the  officer  of  the 
day.  "  Do  you  think  he  could  have  made  away  with  himself? — 
suicide  ?" 

"  Suicide  !  no  !"  answered  Lieutenant  Tracy.  "  He's  too  big  a 
coward  even  for  that !" 

No  sentry  had  seen  or  heard  anything  of  him.  The  whole  post 
was  searched  at  daybreak,  and  without  success.  A  neighboring  settle- 
ment, infested  by  miners,  stock-men,  gamblers,  and  fugitives  from  jus- 
tice, was  visited,  but  nothing  was  learned  that  would  tend  to  dispel  the 
mystery.  One  or  two  hard  citizens — saloon-proprietors — poked  their 
tongues  in  their  cheeks  and  intimated  that  "  if  properly  approached" 
they  could  give  valuable  information  ;  but  no  one  believed  them.  That 
night,  deserted  and  well-nigh  distracted,  Mabel  Noel  lay  moaning  in 
her  little  room,  suffering  heaven  only  knows  what  tortures ;  far  from 
the  yearning  mother  arms,  far  from  home  and  kindred,  far  even  from 
the  recreant  husband  for  whose  poor  sake  she  had  abandoned  all  to  fol- 
low him,  for  better  for  worse,  for  richer  for  poorer,  in  sickness  or  in 
health, — only  to  be  left  to  the  pity  and  care  of  strangers. 

But  she  was  in  an  army  home  and  among  loving,  loyal,  simple 
hearts.  The  women,  one  and  all,  thronged  to  the  little  cottage,  im- 
ploring that  they  might  "  help  in  some  way."  The  men,  when  they 
were  not  damning  the  runaway,  were  full  of  suggestion  as  to  the  course 
to  be  pursued.  Mabel  would  accept  only  one  explanation  of  his  dis- 
appearance :  crazed  by  misfortunes,  he  had  taken  his  own  life  ;  he  liad 
said  he  would.  But  the  regiment  could  not  believe  it,  and  in  forty- 
eight  hours  had  traced  him,  on  the  saloon-keeper's  horse,  over  to  the 
Southern  Pacific,  and  thence  down  to  El  Paso.  More  than  one  man 
gave  a  sigh  of  relief  that  the  whole  thing  could  be  so  easily  settled  with- 
out the  scandal  of  all  that  evidence  being  published  to  the  world.  The 
court  met  and  adjourned  pending  the  receipt  of  orders  from  the  con- 
vening authority.  The  telegraph  speedily  directed  the  return  to  their 
stations  of  the  several  members.  Lieutenant  Bowen  went  back  to  the 
East,  leaving  Taintor  in  the  guard-house,  and  in  a  week  Reginald  Vin- 
cent came  to  take  his  sister  home  and  to  whisper  that  Gordon  was  safe 
in  the  city  of  Mexico, — Mr.  Withers  was  sending  him  money  there  ; 
and  so  from  her  bed  of  illness,  suffering,  and  humiliation  the  poor  girl 


384  y^O  SOLDIERS. 

was  almost  carried  to  her  train,  and  all  Fort  Gregg  could  have  wept  at 
sight  of  her  wan  and  hopeless  face. 

She  shrank  from  seeing  or  meeting  any  of  her  old  associates,  yet 
was  eager  to  reach  her  mother's  roof,  fondly  believing  that  there  she 
would  find  letters  from  her  husband.  It  hurt  her  inexpressibly  that 
he  should  have  fled  without  one  word  to  her  of  his  intentions ;  but  she 
could  forgive  it  because  of  the  suffering  and  misery  that  bore  him  down 
and  unsettled  his  mind.  It  stung  her  that  Mr.  Withers,  not  she, 
should  be  the  first  to  learn  of  his  place  of  refuge ;  but  perhaps  he 
thought  she  had  gone  East  at  once,  and  so  had  written  there.  She 
attributed  his  desertion  to  the  strain  to  which  he  had  been  subjected ; 
but  she  had  been  spared  the  sight  of  those  last  "  specifications."  Her 
first  inquiry,  after  one  long,  blessed  clasping  in  her  mother's  arms,  after 
the  burst  of  tears  that  could  not  be  restrained,  was  for  letters  from 
him;  and  she  was  amazed,  incredulous,  when  told  there  were  none. 
Mr.  Withers  was  sent  for  at  once  :  that  eminent  citizen  would  gladly 
have  dodged  the  ordeal,  but  could  not.  He  could  only  say  that  two 
telegrams  and  two  drafts  had  reached  him  from  Noel,  and  that  he  had 
honored  the  latter  at  sight  and  would  see  that  he  lacked  for  nothing. 

She  would  have  insisted  on  going  to  join  him  in  his  exile,  but  he 
had  sent  no  word  or  line ;  he  had  ignored  her  entirely.  He  might  be 
ill,  was  the  first  thought;  but  Mr.  Withers  assured  her  he  was  phys- 
ically perfectly  well.  "  Everything  is  being  done  now  to  quietly  end 
the  trouble,"  said  Mr.  Withers.  "  We  will  see  to  it  at  Washington  that 
his  resignation  is  now  accepted ;  for  they  will  never  get  him  before  a 
court,  and  might  as  well  make  up  their  minds  to  it.  They  cannot  drop 
or  dismiss  him  for  a  year,  with  all  their  red-tape  methods  and  their 
prate  about  the  *  honor  of  the  service.'  I've  seen  enough  of  the  army 
in  the  last  three  months  to  convince  me  it's  no  place  for  a  gentleman. 
No,  my  dear,  you  stay  here, — or  go  up  to  the  mountains.  We'll  have 
him  there  to  join  you  in  a  month." 

But  the  authorities  proved  obdurate.  Even  the  millionaire  failed 
to  move  the  War  Secretary.  Unless  Captain  Noel  came  back  and  stood 
trial,  he  would  be  "  dropped  for  desertion"  ("  and,  if  he  came  back 
and  stood  trial,  would  probably  be  kicked  out  as  a  coward  and  liar," 
thought  to  himself  the  official  who  sat  a  silent  listener).  This  Noel 
would  not  do.  Withers  sent  him  to  Vera  Cruz  on  a  pseud o  business- 
visit,  and  Mabel,  silent,  sad-faced,  but  weeping  no  more,  went  to  a 
little  resort  in  the  West  Virginia  mountains. 

Meantime,  another  court  had  been  convened,  another  deserter  tried, 
convicted,  and  sentenced,  and  before  being  taken  to  prison  he  made  full 
statement  to  Captain  Lane  and  two  officers  called  in  as  witnesses.  This 
was  Taintor.  He  had  known  Captain  Noel  ever  since  his  entry  into 
service.  Taintor  was  an  expert  penman,  a  gambler,  and  at  times  a  hard 
drinker.  He  had  enlisted  in  the  troop  of  which  Noel  was  second  lieu- 
tenant while  they  were  in  Tennessee,  and  had  deserted,  after  forging 
the  post-quartermaster's  name  to  two  checks  and  getting  the  money. 
The  regiment  went  to  the  Plains :  he  was  never  apprehended,  and  long 
years  afterwards  drifted  from  a  position  in  the  quartermaster's  d6p6t  at 
Jeffersonville  to  a  re-enlistment  and  a  billet  as  clerk  in  the  recruiting 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  385 

rendezvous  at  the  Queen  City.  Knowing  that  Noel  would  recognize 
him,  he  deserted  there,  as  has  been  told,  taking  all  the  money  he  could 
secure  by  forged  checks  for  small  amounts  which  he  trusted  would  not 
excite  suspicion.  But  he  had  fallen  in  love  with  a  young  woman,  and 
she  was  dependent  on  him.  He  came  back  to  the  neighborhood  after 
he  thought  the  hue  and  cry  was  over,  was  shadowed  and  arrested  by 
the  police,  and  had  given  himself  up  for  lost  when  Captain  Noel  was 
brought  to  his  cell  to  identify  him.  He  could  hardly  believe  his  senses 
when  the  captain  said  it  was  all  a  mistake.  Then  he  was  released,  and 
went  to  work  again  across  the  river,  and  one  night  Noel  came, — told 
him  he  knew  him  perfectly  and  would  keep  his  secret  provided  he 
would  "  make  himself  useful."  It  soon  turned  out  that  what  was 
wanted  was  the  imitation  of  Captain  Lane's  signature  on  one  or  two 
papers  whose  contents  he  did  not  see,  and  the  type-writing  of  some 
letters,  one  of  which,  without  signature  of  any  kind,  and  referring  to 
some  young  lady,  her  secret  meetings  with  Cai)tain  Noel,  and  saying, 
"  You  are  being  betrayed,"  was  sent  to  Captain  Lane  at  Fort  Graham. 
Very  soon  after  this  Captain  Lane  came  back.  Taintor  again  fled  until 
he  knew  his  old  commander  had  gone  away,  and  then,  venturing  home, 
was  rearrested,  as  has  also  been  told. 

Lane  knew  the  anonymous  letter  well  enough,  but  now  for  the  first 
time  saw  its  object.  It  was  to  make  him  accuse  Mabel  Vincent  of 
deceit  and  faithlessness  and  so  bring  about  a  rupture  of  the  engagement 
which,  at  that  time,  Noel  saw  no  other  means  of  removing  as  the  one 
obstacle  that  stood  in  the  way  of  his  hopes. 

But  what  were  the  other  papers  ? 

August  came,  and  with  it  the  rumors  of  the  appearance  of  the 
dreaded  vomito  at  Vera  Cruz ;  but  in  the  remote  and  peaceful  nook 
where  mother  and  daughter — two  silent  and  sorrowing  women — were 
living  in  retirement,  no  tidings  came.  Vainly  Mabel  watched  the 
mails  for  letters — if  only  one — from  him.  She  had  written  under 
cover  to  Mr.  Withers,  but  even  that  evoked  no  reply. 

One  sunshiny  afternoon  they  were  startled  by  the  sudden  arrival 
of  Regy.  He  sought  to  avoid  question  and  to  draw  his  mother  to  one 
side,  but  Mabel  was  upon  him. 

"  You  have  news !"  she  said,  her  white  face  set,  her  hands  firmly 
seizing  his  arm.     "  What  is  it?  •  Have  they  dismissed  him?" 

"  They  can  never  dismiss — never  harm  him  more,  Mabel,"  was  the 
solemn  answer. 

Some  months  afterwards  Mrs.  Vincent  received  a  packet  of  papers 
that  belonged  to  the  late  Captain  Noel.  Mabel  had  been  sent  to 
Florida  for  the  winter,  and  was  spending  her  early  widowhood  with 
kind  and  loving  friends.  The  consul  at  Vera  Cruz  had  written  to 
Mr.  Withers  full  particulars  of  his  cousin's  death, — one  of  the  first 
victims  of  the  vomito, — and  had  sent  these  papers  with  the  formal  cer- 
tificates of  the  Mexican  officials.  Mr.  Woodrow,  one  of  the  executors 
of  Mr.  Vincent's  estate,  showed  singular  desire  to  examine  these  papers, 
but  the  widow  thought  they  should  be  opened  only  by  her  daughter. 
It  was  not  until  then  that,  with  much  hesitancy,  the  gentleman  explained 


386  TWO  SOLDIERS. 

that  Mr.  Vincent  had  given  him  to  understand  that  he  had  intrusted 
some  papers  to  Captain  Noel  which  that  officer  had  promised  to  send  at 
once  to  his  old  friend  Captain  Lane.  Mrs.  Vincent  could  learn  no 
more  from  him,  but  she  lost  no  time  in  searching  the  packet. 

Within  twenty-four  hours  Mabel  was  summoned  home  by  tele- 
graph, and  there  for  the  first  time  learned  that  to  her  father's  partner, 
for  the  use  of  the  firm  in  their  sore  straits  of  nearly  two  years  before. 
Captain  Lane  had  given  the  sum  of  fifteen  thousand  dollars,  and  that 
among  Captain  Noel's  papers  was  what  purported  to  be  a  receipt  in  full 
for  the  return  of  the  sum  from  Mr.  Vincent,  which  receipt  was  signed 
apparently  by  Frederick  Lane  and  dated  July  2,  188-.  But  this, 
said  Mr.  Woodrow,  must  be  a  mistake:  Mr.  Vincent  had  assured  him 
late  in  July  that  he  had  not  repaid  it,  but  that  Clark  had  his  instruc- 
tions to  repay  it  at  once,  and  all  Clark's  books,  papers,  and  receipts  had 
been  examined,  and  showed  that  no  such  payment  had  been  made. 

"  It  simply  means  that  the  very  roof  under  which  we  are  sheltered 
is  not  ours,  but  that  noble  fellow's,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent ;  and  that  night 
she  wrote,  and  poured  forth  her  heart  to  him,  while  Mabel  locked  her- 
self in  her  room. 

No  answer  came.  Then  Mr.  Woodrow  made  inquiries  of  the 
officer  at  the  rendezvous,  and  learned  that  Captain  Lane  had  gone  to 
Europe  with  leave  of  absence  for  a  year ;  and  tiiere  her  letter  followed 
him.  She  demanded,  as  a  right,  to  know  the  truth.  She  had  given  the 
executors  to  understand  that  the  debt  must  be  paid,  if  they  had  to  sell 
the  old  homestead  to  do  it.  She  would  be  glad  to  go  and  live  in 
retirement  anywhere. 

Not  only  did  she,  but  so  did  Mr.  Woodrow,  receive  at  last  a  letter 
from  distant  Athens.  The  widow  sobbed  and  laughed  and  pressed 
her  letter  to  her  heart,  while  Woodrow  read  his  with  moistened  eyes, 
a  suspicious  resort  to  his  cambric  handkerchief,  and  an  impatient  con- 
signment of  all  such  confounded  quixotic,  unbusinesslike  cavalrymen 
to — to  the  deuce,  by  Jupiter ;  and  then  he  went  off  to  show  it  to  his 
fellow-executors. 

The  long  summer  wore  away.  Autumn  again  found  mother  and 
daughter  and  E,egy  at  the  dear  old  home,  but  light  and  laughter  had 
not  been  known  within  the  massive  walls  since  the  father's  death.  The 
tragedy  in  Mabel's  life,  coming  so  quickly  after  that  event,  seemed  to 
have  left  room  for  naught  but  mourning.  "She  has  so  aged,  so 
changed,"  wrote  Mrs.  Vincent  on  one  of  the  few  occasions  when  she 
wrote  of  her  at  all  to  him,  and  she  wrote  every  month.  "  I  could  even 
say  that  it  has  improved  her.  The  old  gayety  and  joyousness  are  gone, 
and  with  them  the  wilfulness.  She  thinks  more — lives  more — for 
others  now." 

Winter  came  again, — the  second  winter  of  Mabel's  widowhood, — 
and  she  was  urged  to  visit  the  Noels  at  their  distant  home  ;  but  she 
seemed  reluctant  until  her  mother  bade  her  go.  She  was  still  wearing 
her  widow's  weeds,  and  her  lovely  face  was  never  sweeter  in  her  girl- 
hood days  than  now  in  that  frame  of  crape.  Of  the  brief  months  of 
her  married  life  they  never  spoke,  but  the  Noels  loved  her  because  of 
her  devotion  to  him  when  not  a  friend  was  left.     In  early  March  the 


TWO  SOLDIERS.  387 

news  from  home  began  to  give  her  uneasiness :  "  mamma  did  not  seem 
well,"  was  the  explanation,  and  it  was  decided  that  they  would  go  on 
as  far  as  Washington  with  her,  and  spend  a  day  or  two  there,  when 
Reginald  would  meet  and  escort  her  home. 

And  so,  one  bright  morning  in  that  most  uncertain  of  months, 
Mabel  Noel  with  her  sister-in-law  and  that  lady's  husband  stood  at  the 
elevator  landing,  waiting  to  be  taken  down  to  the  hall- way  of  their  hotel. 
Presently  the  lighted  cage  came  sliding  from  aloft.  Mrs.  Lanier  entered, 
followed  by  the  others.  Two  gentlemen  seated  on  one  side  removed 
their  hats,  and  the  next  instant,  before  she  could  take  her  seat,  the  lady 
saw  one  of  them  rise,  bow,  and  extend  his  hand  to  Mabel,  saying, 
with  no  little  embarrassment  and  much  access  of  color,  something  to 
the  effect  that  this  was  a  great  surprise, — a  statement  which  her  fair 
sister-in-law  evidently  could  find  no  words  to  contradict,  even  had  she 
desired  so  to  do.  Neither  of  the  two  seemed  to  think  of  any  others 
who  were  present.  Indeed,  there  was  hardly  time  to  ask  or  answer 
questions  before  they  had  to  step  out  and  give  place  to  people  desiring 
to  ascend ;  and  then  the  gentleman  nearly  tumbled  over  a  chair  in 
the  awkwardness  of  his  adieu.  Mrs.  Noel's  face  was  averted  as  they 
left  the  hall,  but  all  the  more  was  Mrs.  Lanier  desirous  of  questioning : 

"  Who  was  your  friend,  Mabel  ?" 

And  Mabel  had  to  turn  or  be  ungracious.  Her  face  was  glowing 
as  she  answered,  simply, — 

"  Captain  Lane." 

An  hour  later  Mrs.  Lanier  said  to  her  husband, — 

"  That  was  the  man  to  whom  she  was  said  to  be  engaged  before 
Gordon  ;  and  did  you  see  her  face?" 

Once  again  they  met, — this  time  at  the  entrance  to  the  dining-room  ; 
and  there  Captain  Lane  bowed  gravely  to  "  my  sister,  Mrs.  Lanier, — 
Mr.  Lanier,"  when  he  was  presented.  The  lady  seemed  distant  and 
chilling.  The  man  held  out  his  hand  and  said,  "  I'm  glad  to  know 
you,  captain.  I  wish  you  could  dine  with  us."  But  Lane  had  dined, 
and  was  going  out. 

The  third  day  came,  and  no  Reginald.  Expecting  him  every  mo- 
ment, Mabel  declined  to  go  with  her  friends  on  a  shopping-tour,  and 
was  seated  in  her  room,  thinking,  when  there  came  a  tap  at  the  door : 
a  card  for  Mrs.  Noel,  and  the  gentleman  begged  to  see  her  in  the  parlor. 
Her  color  heightened  as  she  read  the  name.  Her  heart  beat  flutteringly 
as  she  descended  the  stairs.  He  was  standing  close  by  the  door,  but 
he  took  her  hand  and  led  her  to  the  window  at  their  right. 

"  You  have  news — from  mamma  !"  she  cried.  "  Tell  me — instantly !" 

"  Mr.  Woodrow  thinks  it  best  that  you  should  come,  Mrs.  Noel ; 
and  she  has  sent  for  me.  Reginald  went  directly  West  last  night. 
Will  you  trust  yourself  to  my  care?  and  can  you  be  ready  for  the  next 
train? — in  two  hours?" 

Ready  !  She  could  go  instantly.  Was  there  no  train  sooner?  She 
implored  him  to  tell  if  her  mother's  illness  was  fatal.  He  could  only 
say  that  Mrs.  Vincent  had  been  quite  suddenly  seized ;  and  yet  they 
hoped  she  would  rally.  Mabel  wept  unrestrainedly,  upbraiding  herself 
bitterly  for  her  dilatory  journey ;  but  she  was  ready,  and  had  gained 


388  ^"^0  SOLDIERS. 

composure  when  it  was   time  to  start.     Mrs.  Lanier's  farewell  was 
somewhat  strained,  but  the  captain  seemed  to  notice  nothing. 

Unobtrusively,  yet  carefully,  he  watched  over  her  on  the  home- 
ward way.  Tenderly  he  lifted  her  to  the  pavement  of  the  familiar 
old  d6p6t,  where  Regy  met  them.  Mamma  was  better,  but  very  feeble. 
She  wanted  to  see  them  both. 

Three  days  the  gentle  spirit  lingered.  Thrice  did  the  loving  woman 
send  for  Lane,  and,  holding  his  hand  in  hers,  whisper  blessing  and 
prayerful  charge  as  to  the  future.  Regy  wondered  what  it  could  all 
mean.  Mabel,  on  her  knees  in  her  own  little  room,  pleading  for  her 
devoted  mother's  life,  knew  well  how  to  the  very  last  that  mother 
clung  to  him,  but  only  vaguely  did  she  reason  why. 

At  last  the  solemn  moment  came,  and  the  hush  of  twilight,  the 
placid,  painless  close  of  a  pure  and  gracious  life,  were  broken  only  by 
the  sobbing  of  her  kneeling  children  and  of  the  little  knot  of  friends 
who,  dearly  loving,  were  with  her  at  the  gate  into  the  new  and  radiant 
world  beyond. 

One  soft  spring  evening  a  few  weeks  later  Mabel  stood  by  the 
window  in  the  old  library,  an  open  letter  in  her  hand.  Twice  had  she 
looked  at  the  clock  upon  the  mantel,  and  it  was  late  when  Frederick 
Lane  appeared.  Mr.  Woodrow  had  unexpectedly  detained  him,  he  ex- 
plained, but  now  nothing  remained  but  to  say  good-by  to  her.  His 
leave  was  up.     The  old  troop  was  waiting  for  him. 

"  Will  you  try  to  do  as  I  asked  you,  and  write  to  me  once  in  a 
while  ?"  he  said. 

"  I  will.  It  was  mother's  wish."  But  her  head  sank  lower  as  she 
spoke. 

"  I  know,"  he  replied.  "  For  almost  a  year  past  she  had  written 
regularly  to  me,  and  I  shall  miss  it — more  than  I  can  say.  And  now 
— it  is  good-by.     God  bless  you,  Mabel !" 

And  still  she  stood,  inert,  passive,  her  eyes  downcast,  her  bosom 
rapidly  rising  and  falling  under  its  mourning  garb.  He  took  her 
hand  and  held  it  lingeringly  one  minute,  then  turned  slowly  away. 

At  the  portiere  he  stopped  for  one  last  look.  She  was  still  standing 
there,  drooping.  The  fair  head  seemed  bowing  lower  and  lower,  the 
white  hands  were  clasping  nervously, 

"  Do  you  know  you  have  not  said  good-by,  Mabel  ?" 

She  is  bending  like  the  lily  now,  turning  away  to  hide  the  rush  of 
tears.     Only  faintly  does  he  catch  the  whispered  words, — 

"Oh!  1  cannot  r 


THE    END, 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA. 


BY 


CHARLES   KING, 

U.  S.  ARMY, 

AUTHOR  OF   "THE   COLONEL'S   DAUGHTER,"    "THE   DESERTER,"    "FROM  THE 
RANKS,"    "DUNRAYEN   RANCH,"    "TWO  SOLDIERS,"    ETC. 


"  It  is,  however,  proper  for  me  to  remark  that  the  rest  of  the  world  is  entitled  to  at  least 
one  day  in  the  year  upon  the  newspaper  men.  For  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  they  oracu- 
larly direct  us  in  our  opinions,  walk,  and  conversation  ;  they  give  us  our  politics,  our  esti- 
mates of  public  men,  and  our  views  upon  all  current  questions.  The  American  people  are 
eminently  practical,  their  wits  are  sharpened  in  their  own  afiairs,  and  their  thoughts  concen- 
trated and  intent  upon  that  which  immediately  interests  them.  As  a  result,  the  larger  part 
of  every  community  have  no  opinions  until  they  have  read  their  party  and  religious  papers. 
For  a  man  like  myself,  who  reads  them  all,  the  most  curious  of  studies  is  to  gather  the  reflex 
of  the  editor's  views  in  the  confident  expressions  of  my  friends.  AVhatever  responsibility — 
and  it  is  great — may  rest  upon  the  lawyer  with  the  liberal  latitude  allowed  him  under  his 
retainer,  upon  the  preacher  with  his  unrestrained  opportunity  to  speak,  upon  the  teacher  in 
moulding  the  minds  of  his  students,  the  largest  responsibility  of  all  rests  upon  the  journalist." 


— Chauncey  M.  Depew. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY. 


Copyright,  1890,  by  J.  B.  Lippincott  Company. 


Printed  by  J.  B.  Lippincott  Company,  Philadelphia,  U.S.A. 


LIPPINCOTT'S 
JyJONTHLY  JyJAGAZINE, 


DECEMBER,    189  O. 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA. 


IT  must  have  been  nearly  midnight.  The  lights  in  the  barracks  and 
at  the  old  hospital  beyond  had  long  since  been  extingnished,  and 
only  here  and  there  along  the  row  of  officers'  quarters  and  at  the 
guard-house,  suggestively  planted  half-way  down  the  slope  towards 
the  post  trader's  store,  was  there  sign  of  wakeful  life.  One  or  two 
upper  windows  gave  forth  a  feeble  gleam,  and  there  was  quite  a  jovial 
glow  pouring  from  the  open  door-way  of  the  colonel's  big  house  across 
the  dark  rectangle.  It  fell  upon  the  tall  white  flag-staff  and  displayed 
it  from  base  to  cross-trees,  a  solitary,  ghost-like  shaft,  and  then,  with 
gradually  diminishing  power,  illumined  the  gravelled  pathway  that 
bisected  the  parade  and  led  from  the  broad  flight  of  steps  in  front  of 
the  commanding  officer's  to  the  major's  quarters  on  the  southern  side. 
Overhead  the  stars  were  glittering  in  an  absolutely  cloudless  sky.  Not 
a  breath  of  air  was  stirring  the  forest  down  in  the  black  depths  of  the 
valley  to  the  south.  Softened  by  distance,  the  rush  of  the  river  over 
its  rocky  bed  fell  upon  the  ear  like  soothing  lullaby.  Ten  minutes 
earlier  the  sound  of  silvery  laughter  and  cheery  voices  had  come  float- 
ing across  the  garrison,  and  half  a  dozen  little  groups  had  strolled  away 
from  the  colonel's  gate,  some  turning  to  right  and  left,  others  crossing 
in  the  broad  stream  of  light  from  his  open  portals.  One  by  one  the 
doors  of  the  various  quarters  had  opened  to  admit  their  occupants,  a 
few  lingering  good-nights  had  been  exchanged  between  gallant  young 
bachelors  and  some  dainty  form  enwrapped  in  fleecy  burnous,  and  then 
even  those  night-owls  "  the  youngsters"  had  betaken  themselves  to  their 
domiciles;  one  after  another  doors  were  closed,  lights  popped  up  in  the 
second-floor  windows,  curtains  were  drawn,  the  lights  enshrouded,  and 
finally  a  silence  as  of  solitude  spread  its  mantle  over  the  parade,  and 
the  corjjoral  of  the  guard,  leaning  against  the  gate-post  at  the  south- 

723 


724  ^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

western  entrance,  bethought  him  how  expressive  was  the  sign  the 
Indians  made  for  night. 

He  was  of  medium  height,  but  an  athletic,  well-built  young  fellow, 
as  any  one  might  have  seen  as  the  corporal  stood  under  the  big  lamp 
at  the  guard-house  but  a  few  moments  before.  He  had  a  handsome, 
clear-cut  face,  with  a  good  deal  of  soldier  bronze  about  the  cheeks  and 
jaws ;  he  wore  his  natty  undress  uniform  with  an  easy  grace,  and 
carried  the  long  Springfield  as  though  it  were  a  toy.  The  crossed 
rifles  on  his  forage-cap,  the  buckle  of  his  cartridge-belt,  even  the  copper 
cartridges  themselves,  gleamed  in  the  lamplight.  The  chevrons  on  his 
sleeve,  the  narrow  stripe  along  the  seam  of  his  trousers,  the  Berlin 
gloves  he  wore,  were  all  spotlessly  white;  and  Corporal  Brent  was 
what  the  men  were  wont  to  call  "  a  dandy  Jack,"  though  there  was 
not  a  man  in  the  troop-barracks  at  the  western  end  of  the  parade  who 
cared  more  than  once  to  put  on  the  gloves  with  the  "  dandy."  Brent 
had  speedily  demonstrated  the  fact  that  he  could  outspar  any  man  in 
the  cavalry  portion  of  the  garrison,  and  that  only  Sergeant  Connors, 
of  C  company,  was  able  to  beat  him  in  a  bout.  In  the  little  battalion 
of  infantry  Brent  was  a  popular  man ;  so,  too,  had  he  been  in  the 
cavalry  command  that  recently  occupied  the  post ;  but  these  fellows  of 
the  Eleventh,  who  had  but  lately  marched  in,  seemed  rather  slow  to 
discover  his  many  good  traits.  Very  possibly  they  did  not  like  the 
apparent  ease  with  which  he  had  defeated  the  champions  they  had  so 
confidently  sent  against  him.  Still,  it  was  a  good-natured,  not  vindic- 
tive, sort  of  jealousy, — that  soldierly  rivalry  between  the  two  corps 
that  seems  irrepressiUe  and  that  really  does  no  great  harm, — and  Brent 
had  begun  to  win  friends  among  the  troopers,  who  liked  the  frank, 
laughing  way  he  had,  when  an  order  was  suddenly  issued  by  the  new 
post  coiiunander  the  enforcement  of  which  stirred  up  a  row. 

As  the  last  visitor  left  the  colonel's  gate  and  he  closed  his  door, 
thereby  shutting  out  the  broad  gleam  that,  almost  like  that  of  the 
headlight  of  a  locomotive,  had  shot  athwart  the  parade,  Corporal 
Brent  was  pondering  over  this  very  matter. 

Colonel  Morris  was  a  man  who  hated  irregularity  of  any  kind,  and 
as  the  grass  began  to  sprout  in  the  spring  he  noted  that  it  failed  to 
grow  along  what  was  evidently  a  short  cut  between  the  southwest  gate, 
the  way  to  town,  and  the  infantry  barracks  at  the  eastern  end.  The 
former  post  commander,  a  cavalryman  like  himself,  had  not  paid  much 
attention  to  this  sort  of  thing,  and  the  infantry  had  grown  to  look 
upon  the  short  cut  as  a  sort  of  thoroughfare  sacred  to  their  uses :  no 
officer  ever  had  occasion  to  go  that  way.  When,  therefore,  the  beaten 
pathway  was  ploughed  up  and  re-sodded,  and  an  order  was  issued  that 
the  men  must  confine  themselves  to  the  gravel  path  or  the  road-way, 
there  were  just  a  few  old  foot-soldiers  who  saw  fit  to  grumble,  and 
some  of  them,  returning  late  at  night  from  a  visit  on  pass  to  the  neigh- 
boring town,  made  sarcastic  allusions  to  the  new  order  as  they  trudged 
homeward  under  the  windows  of  the  officers'  quarters  on  the  south  side. 
Others  still,  trusting  to  darkness  and  a  theory  that  all  officers  should 
be  abed  at  that  hour,  proceeded  to  wear  a  parallel  path,  and  these  two 
transgressions  being  occasionally  repeated,  and  the  officer  of  the  day 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  725 

having  twice  come  upon  the  transgressors  without  having  captured  one 
of  their  number, — for  the  "  dough-boys"  were  fleet  of  foot, — a  second 
order  was  issued  requiring  all  enlisted  men  returning  to  the  post  be- 
tween tattoo  and  reveille  to  enter  their  barracks  from  the  rear  and  not 
to  cross  the  quadrangle  bounded  by  the  fence.  There  was  a  road  all 
around  in  rear  of  the  barracks  and  quarters,  but  in  the  wet  spring 
weather  it  was  often  deep  with  mud  and  generally  dark  as  Erebus. 
What  wonder,  therefore,  that  many  parties  still  managed  to  slip  in,  not 
exactly  in  defiance  of  the  order,  but  because  the  enlisted  men  had  a 
fine  appreciation  of  that  principle  of  international  law  which  provid&s 
that  a  mere  paper  blockade  is  not  entitled  to  respect  ?  Then  it  was  that 
the  "  old  man,"  as  the  soldiers  called  the  colonel,  ordered  out  his  block- 
aders.  An  extra  sentinel's  post  was  established,  a  sentry  was  ordered 
stationed  at  the  southwest  gate  from  tattoo  until  reveille,  and,  as  all 
the  cavalry  were  barracked  on  the  west  side  near  their  stables,  and  as 
the  infantry  were  manifestly  the  offenders  (so  argued  the  colonel),  the 
three  additional  sentries  required  were  ordered  taken  from  among  their 
number.  This  order  made  guard-duty  a  trifle  harder  and  the  infantry- 
men a  trifle  madder.  Out  of  sheer  mischief,  some  of  them  took  to 
passing  up  the  road  between  the  guard-house  and  the  trader's,  entering 
the  northwest  gate  and  stalking  acroas  the  parade  in  stealthy  column 
of  files  from  that  direction,  facetiously  decorating  their  trail  with  empty 
beer-bottles,  whiskey-flasks,  or  sardine-boxes,  over  which  the  police 
sergeant  spent  some  time  and  blasphemy  after  reveille  next  morning. 
Then  the  colonel  ordered  the  northwest  gate  locked  at  tattoo,  and  the 
laughing  rascals  climbed  the  fence.  He  would  not  order  out  more 
sentries,  but  he  gave  the  officer  of  the  day  directions  to  have  a  patrol 
in  readiness  at  the  flag-staff  between  eleven  and  one  that  night,  and 
then  some  fine  foot-racing  resulted,  in  which  the  patrol  came  out  second 
best.  The  colonel  ordered  the  five  infantrymen  who  happened  to  be 
on  pass  arrested  and  brought  to  trial  before  a  garrison  court,  and  the 
court  promptly  acquitted  every  man  :  it  was  established  that  they  had 
all  obediently  gone  around  the  garrison ;  they  had  even  taken  the 
trouble  to  call  the  attention  of  the  sentry  on  No.  4  to  that  fact ;  and 
then  it  dawned  upon  the  commanding  officer  that  some  of  those  in- 
fantry scamps  were,  as  they  would  have  expressed  it,  "putting  up 
a  job"  at  his  expense,  and  that  half  a  dozen  of  the  fleetest-footed 
among  them  were,  just  for  a  lark,  slipping  out  of  quarters  after  eleven 
o'clock  and  around  to  the  northwest  gate,  vaulting  the  fence  with  the 
agility  of  monkeys,  and  then  playing  the  old  game  of  "  Tom,  Tom, 
pull  away"  with  his  patrol.  They  had  not  had  so  much  fun  in  a 
year. 

Colonel  Morris  had  sense  enough  to  know  that  if  he  lost  his  temper 
and  got  to  blustering  the  men  would  regard  it  as  a  victory.  He  issued 
no  new  orders.  Suspicion  had  fallen  on  a  squad  of  rollicking  young 
Irishmen  in  Company  F,  all  of  whom  were  members  of  the  battalion 
base-ball  nine.  A  match  game  was  to  come  off*  two  days  later  with 
the  club  from  Fort  Lawrence,  and  local  interest — and  bets — were  run- 
ning high.  Alas  !  when  the  morning  of  the  eventful  day  came  around, 
four  of  the  fleetest  base-runners  in  the  Rifle  Nine  languished  in  the 


726  ^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

guard-house,  arrested  at  reveille  by  order  of  their  own  captain  for  ab- 
sence from  quarters  at  midnight.  The  colonel  had  simply  let  them  get 
out,  then  ordered  check  roll-call,  with  doors  barred,  and  they  stood 
self-exiled.  Fancy  the  consternation  among  the  lovers  of  the  national 
game  I  Even  the  cavalry  had  backed  the  local  nine  against  that  from 
Lawrence,  and  well  knew  that  if  substitutes  had  to  be  put  in  there  was 
no  earthly  chance  of  their  winning.  Manifestly,  said  the  battalion, 
there's  no  man  but  Corporal  Brent  to  get  us  out  of  the  scrape.  He 
was  captain  and  short-stop  of  the  Nine,  and  on  him  they  rallied  forth- 
with. "  Give  me  your  word,  men,  that  there's  to  be  no  more  of  this 
monkey  business,  and  I'll  go  to  the  colonel  myself.  Refuse,  and  the 
game  goes  to  Fort  Lawrence,  nine  to  nothing,  for  we  can't  play  with- 
out Lynch  and  Cooney  on  the  bases."  It  was  a  case  of  unconditional 
surrender. 

The  colonel  had  kindly  received  the  young  corporal,  had  listened 
to  the  tale  of  woe,  and  sat  silently  pondering  a  moment.  Then  he 
looked  up.  "  You  say  the  game  must  go  against  you  without  these 
four  men  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  sir.  Indeed,  I  would  not  play  without  them.  We  would 
far  better  let  the  game  go  by  default  than  have  the  record  published, 
as  it  assuredly  would  be,  in  the  army  as  well  as  the  local  papers,  with 
all  the  errors  scored  against  us.  This  nine  of  ours  has  not  been  beaten 
by  any  team  in  the  department  as  yet,  and  it  would  be  an  unearned 
victory  for  Fort  Lawrence." 

Colonel  Morris  sat  keenly  studying  the  young  soldier's  face.  He 
made  no  answer  for  a  moment,  and  when  he  spoke  it  was  of  an  utterly 
irrelevant  matter : 

"  Have  you  not  served  somewhere  under  my  command  before  this, 
corporal  ?" 

The  color  sprang  to  Brent's  face.  There  was  an  instant  of  hesita- 
tion, then  a  firm  but  respectful  answer  : 

"Nowhere,  sir.  I  have  been  in  the  army  only  two  years,  and  this 
is  my  first  station  since  leaving  the  depot  at  David's  Island."  Then, 
as  though  eager  to  get  back  to  a  more  pressing  matter,  "  If  the  colonel 
will  not  consider  me  as  proposing  a  compromise,  and  will  take  it  as 
it  is  meant,  I  can  promise,  I  think,  that  there  will  be  no  more  of  this 
night  prowling  across  the  parade,  on  the  part  of  our  men  at  least." 

Morris  looked  sharply  up  from  under  his  shaggy  brows : 

**  What  do  you  mean  ?  What  men  would  have  any  occasion  to 
cross  the  parade  but  the  infantry  ?" 

"  I  mean,  in  all  respect,  sir,  that  there  may  be  men  or,  at  least,  a 
man  who,  having  no  occasion  to  cross  the  parade,  will  do  so  simply  for 
the  sake  of  making  trouble.     In  plain  words,  a  cavalryman,  sir." 

The  adjutant,  sitting  at  his  desk,  dropped  his  pen  and  looked 
quickly  up,  and  the  sergeant-major,  going  out  with  a  bundle  of  papers, 
found  means  to  halt  at  the  office  door,  as  though  to  hear  what  might 
follow.  Mr.  Mason,  the  adjutant,  turned  quietly,  caught  the  sergeant- 
major's  eye,  and  gave  a  quick  but  expressive  jerk  of  the  head  in  the 
direction  of  the  outer  room.  The  sergeant-major  took  the  hint  and 
vanished. 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  727 

But  the  clerks  had  heard  the  corporal's  intimation  that  some  trooper 
was  connected  with  the  transgression  for  which  the  ball-playing  quar- 
tette were  confined.  The  door  was  immediately  closed,  leaving  them 
to  draw  their  own  inferences  and  make  their  own  comments.  They 
did  not  hear  the  colonel's  next  remark  : 

"  If  any  man  in  the  cavalry  is  guilty  in  this  matter,  there  is  only 
one  whom  I  can  suspect.     Can  you  name  him  ?" 

Corporal  Brent  flushed  again,  but  finally  replied,  "  I  beg  the  colonel 
not  to  ask  me  to  answer,  when,  as  I  said  before,  I  have  no  proof  what- 
ever." 

Colonel  Morris  turned  and  pondered  a  moment.  Finally  he  whirled 
about  in  his  revolving  chair: 

"  Corporal  Brent,  if  these  four  men  were  of  my  own  regiment  I 
would  certainly  refuse  your  request.  As  matters  stand,  I  will  not  spoil 
the  chances  of  the  Rifle  Nine.  They  will,  therefore,  be  turned  over  to 
you  to  take  their  part  in  the  game,  and  to-morrow  must  stand  their  trial 
before  the  garrison  court." 

And  when  Corporal  Brent  left  tlie  office,  infinitely  rejoiced,  the 
colonel  turned  to  his  staff-officer : 

"  Where  do  you  suppose  the  recruiting  officers  picked  up  a  fellow 
like  that?     He  has  the  language  of  an  educated  man." 

"  He  was  enlisted  in  New  York,"  was  the  reply,  "  and  I  have  fre- 
quently noted  him  on  guard.  They  tell  me  he  has  more  influence  over 
the  men  in  his  battalion  than  any  other  non-commissioned  officer;  and  I 
am  glad  he  has  promised  that  there  will  be  no  more  of  this  night  business." 

And  yet,  two  days  afterwards,  the  colonel  sent  for  Corporal  Brent 
to  say  that  the  agreement  was  being  violated.  Three  soldiers  had  been 
seen  running  from  the  southwest  gate  across  the  parade  the  night  be- 
fore. The  sentry  had  been  taken  off  on  the  strength  of  the  arrange- 
ment; the  Rifle  Nine  had  won  the  game  amidst  great  enthusiasm,  and 
there  was  a  liberal  transfer  of  Treasury  notes  in  consequence.  The 
infantry  and  many  of  the  cavalrymen  were  rejoicing  in  unaccustomed 
wealth  between  pay-days,  and  applications  for  passes  to  visit  town  had 
been  of  unusual  number.  The  four  culprits  had  pleaded  guilty  to  their 
offence  and  been  awarded  some  light  fine.  The  "  dough-boys,"  fully 
appreciating  the  colonel's  consideration  in  the  matter,  as  fully  meant  to 
stand  by  their  promise  to  Brent :  it  was  with  not  a  little  feeling,  there- 
fore, that  they  received  the  news  that  the  compact  was  violated. 

That  Saturday  evening,  in  some  mysterious  way.  Corporal  Mullen 
of  the  guard  sprained  his  wrist  just  after  tattoo;  and  though  Brent 
was  not  the  next  man  on  the  roster,  with  the  adjutant's  full  consent  he 
appeared  armed  and  equipped  at  the  guard-house  and  reported  for  duty 
as  Mullen's  successor  in  charge  of  the  second  relief.  Examining  the 
list  of  men  absent  on  pass,  he  made  mental  note  of  two  in  his  own 
battalion  and  looked  visibly  disappointed  when  he  scanned  the  cavalry 
names.  It  had  been  ordered  that  all  men  returning  from  pass  should 
report  at  the  guard-house,  leave  their  papers  with  the  officer  of  the 
guard,  and  then  return  to  their  quarters,  those  of  the  infantry  battalion 
passing  around  outside  the  officers'  houses,  those  of  the  cavalry  enter- 
ing their  barracks  by  the  rear  steps  at  once. 


728  ^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

Three  days  of  sunshine  and  breeze  had  dried  the  ground  so  that 
the  paths  around  the  post  were  in  perfect  order,  and,  except  that  it  made 
their  walk  longer  by  some  two  hundred  paces,  there  was  no  discomfort 
in  obeying  the  order.  The  first  batch  of  returning  soldiers  appeared 
about  half-past  eleven,  surrendered  their  passes,  and  went  quietly  away 
to  their  barracks.  Another  squad  appeared  about  ten  minutes  later ; 
but  there  was  still  no  sign  of  the  two  whose  names  Brent  had  noted 
and  whose  pass  expired  at  midnight.  It  was  then  that  the  young 
soldier,  with  the  permission  of  the  officer  of  the  guard,  strode  quickly 
over  to  the  southwest  gate,  a  hundred  yards  away. 

From  here  he  noted  the  dispersal  of  the  little  party  that  had  been 
spending  the  evening  at  the  colonel's  ;  here  he  had  straightened  up  and, 
standing  under  the  lamp-post,  tendered  his  soldierly  salute  to  Captain 
and  Mrs.  Lane  as  they  passed  in  front  of  him,  repeating  it  an  instant 
after  when  a  young  lady,  with  dark,  sparkling  eyes,  looked  him  quickly 
over  as  she  tripped  by  on  the  arm  of  her  escort ;  and  while  the  latter 
held  open  the  gate  of  the  brick  quarters  at  the  corner,  almost  within 
earshot,  she  inquired, — 

"  Who  is  that  infantry  corporal,  Mr.  Hearn  ?" 

"That?  Oh,  you  didn't  get  here  in  time  for  the  ball-game.  Miss 
Marshall,  or  you  wouldn't  have  asked.  That's  Corporal  Brent,  captain 
of  the  Rifle  Nine." 

"  Can't  we  persuade  you  to  come  in  a  few  minutes,  Mr.  Hearn  ?" 
called  Mrs.  Lane,  in  her  sweet,  cordial  voice. 

"  Yes,  do  come,  Hearn,"  chimed  in  the  captain,  ever  ready  to  second 
his  wife's  motion. 

The  lieutenant  hesitated  an  instant  and  glanced  at  the  girl  who  had 
just  stepped  within  the  gate ;  but,  as  she  said  nothing  that  seemed  in 
any  way  pressing,  he  raised  his,  forage-cap,  and,  pleasantly  declining, 
bade  them  good-night  and  went  briskly  away.  Opening  her  window 
five  minutes  later  to  close  the  outer  blinds,  Miss  Marshall  glanced  down 
from  above  the  piazza  roof  and  saw  the  corporal  of  the  guard  still 
standing  there  under  the  lamp,  apparently  waiting.  He  looked  quickly 
up  at  sound  of  the  creaking  shutter,  then  turned  aside.  The  next 
moment,  before  she  could  fasten  the  blind,  the  sentry  at  the  guard-house 
sung  out,  "  Number  One,  twelve  o'clock."  The  corporal  leaned  his 
rifle  against  the  fence,  quickly  extinguished  the  lamp,  and  all  in  front 
of  the  quarters  was  darkness. 

Down  at  the  guard-house  she  could  see  the  bleary  light  of  the  oil 
lamp  and  the  dim  form  of  the  sentry  pacing  to  and  fro ;  she  stood  there 
by  the  window  straining  her  ears  for  the  watch-call  of  the  distant  sen- 
tries far  over  by  the  haystacks  and  wood-yard,  then  nodded  her  head 
approvingly  at  the  soldierly  ring  in  the  voice  of  No.  1,  as  he  sung 
out  the  final  ''  All's  well."  Peering  through  the  shutters,  she  was 
wondering  what  had  become  of  the  corporal,  when  the  latch  of  their 
gate  clicked  ;  the  rusty  hinges  gave  a  sudden  squeak  ;  there  was  a  rattle 
as  of  a  falling  rifle,  a  muttered  ejaculation  ;  she  could  just  dimly  make 
out  a  shadowy  form  stooping  to  pick  up  the  gun,  and  then  cautiously 
reclosing  the  gate.  Then,  instead  of  moving  away,  there  it  stood,  lean- 
ing against  the  fence.     Evidently  Corporal  Brent  had  business  there 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  729 

and  had  come  to  stay.  Instantly  she  bethought  her  of  the  talk  she 
had  heard  among  the  officers  about  the  colonel's  order  prohibiting  the 
men  from  crossing  the  parade,  of  the  implied  promise  that  no  more 
violations  should  occur  in  recognition  of  the  colonel's  having  released 
the  quartette  of  roysterers  in  time  for  the  great  match  game,  and  of  the 
alleged  violation  of  this  contract.  She  was  a  young  woman  of  quick 
perception  :  Brent  had  evidently  posted  himself  there  to  capture  the 
malefactors  should  they  appear. 

Quarter  of  an  hour  passed  without  the  faintest  sound  from  without. 
She  heard  Captain  Lane  extinguishing  the  lamps  in  the  parlor  below, 
and  Mrs.  Lane  had  come  tripping  up  to  her  door  to  say  good-night, 
but,  seeing  that  her  guest  was  writing,  refrained  from  coming  farther, 
though  Miss  Marshall  promptly  laid  aside  her  pen  and  diary  and  cor- 
dially bade  her  enter.  All  was  quiet  within  and  without,  and  she  was 
just  about  pulling  down  the  shade,  when,  peeping  through  the  blinds, 
she  saw  the  dark  shadowy  form  at  the  fence  move  quickly,  stealthily 
into  the  road.  The  next  moment  there  came  stern,  low-toned  chal- 
lenge : 

"  Halt,  you  men  !" 

There  was  instant  scurry  and  rush ;  a  muttered  oath ;  two  shadowy 
forms  darted  out  by  the  gate,  and,  at  top  speed,  their  flying  footsteps 
could  be  dimly  heard  rushing  tiptoe  around  to  the  back  of  the  garrison. 
But  there  was  no  pursuit.     One  man  evidently  had  stood  his  ground. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?"  was  Brent's  question,  in  the  same  low, 
stern  tone. 

"  To  my  quarters,"  was  the  answer,  in  accents  that  were  plainly 
defiant.     "  Who  are  you?  and  what  business  is  it  of  yours?" 

"  I  am  the  corporal  of  the  guard,  and  you  are  disobeying  orders  in 
entering  the  garrison.  Face  about  and  go  with  me  to  the  guard- 
house." 

"  You  can't  arrest  me,  by  God  !  I'm  going  right  to  my  quarters. 
I'm  not  going  to  cross  the  parade." 

"  That  will  do.  Face  about !"  Brent's  voice  was  heard.  "  You 
know  perfectly  well  that  you  disobeyed  orders  in  entering  that  gate. 
What's  your  name? — and  your  troop?" 

"  None  of  your  damned  business.  I'm  'tending  to  my  affairs  ;  you 
'tend  to  yours." 

"  I  am ;  and  I  arrest  you,  whoever  you  are.  Not  another  word, 
now,  unless  you  want  me  to  use  force." 

"  Don't  you  dare  lay  a  hand  on  me,  damn  you  !  I  don't  recognize 
your  authority.  You're  not  corporal  of  the  guard ;  I  saw  who  marched 
on  guard  this  morning,  and  you  were  not  one  of  them.     Get  out  of 

my  way,  or  I'll "     Then  came  sudden  scuffle ;  an  oath  ;  a  gasping 

cry.  One  man  could  be  heard  running  with  lightning  speed  to  the 
gloomy  outlines  of  the  cavalry  barracks,  close  at  hand ;  another  seemed 
to  dash  in  pursuit.  Then  came  the  sound  of  a  stunning  blow,  the 
crash  of  a  rifle  upon  the  gravelly  road,  a  heavy  fall,  a  moan.  Then — 
silence. 


730  ^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

II. 

There  was  a  frown  on  Colonel  Morris's  face  on  Sunday  morning  that 
boded  ill  for  officer  or  man  who  could  not  come  up  to  the  standard  of 
the  post  commander  on  the  forthcoming  inspection.  The  old  order  of 
things  was  still  in  existence,  and  a  beneficent  administration  had  not  yet 
issued  its  ban  against  martial  exercises  of  any  kind  upon  the  Lord's 
day.  First  call  for  inspection  in  full  dress  had  "  gone/'  as  the  soldiers 
say,  as  the  colonel  appeared  in  the  panoply  of  his  profession  upon  the 
front  piazza,  glancing  modified  approval  at  the  glistening  surface  of  his 
top-boots  and  the  brilliant  polish  of  his  spurs.  Down  at  the  front  gate 
his  orderly  stood,  every  item  of  his  dress  and  equipment  a  model  of 
soldierly  trimness.  Out  in  the  centre  of  the  parade  a  little  party  of  the 
guard  had  just  lowered  the  storm-flag  that  had  been  hoisted  at  dawn, 
and  were  running  up  in  its  stead  the  great  garrison  standard,  whose 
folds  of  scarlet  and  white  lapped  out  lazily  in  response  to  the  soft  breeze 
now  rising  from  the  westward  bluffs.  Over  at  the  barracks  the  men 
had  come  pouring  forth,  the  neat  dark  blue  and  white  of  the  infantry 
at  the  east  side  contrasting  favorably  with  the  glaring  yellow  trimmings 
of  the  cavalry  battalion,  swarming  along  the  walk  and  streaming  from 
the  stairways  and  galleries  of  their  crowded  quarters,  like  so  many  full- 
plumaged  hornets.  On  the  verandas  across  the  parade,  hel  meted  officers 
and  ladies  in  dainty  muslins  began  to  appear,  and  along  tiie  row  to  his 
right  and  left  the  sheltered  porches  were  similarly  occupied.  But  the 
post  commander  stood  alone.  Madame  his  better  half  had  visitors. 
Breakfast  was  not  quite  finished,  and  she  was  devoting  herself  to  their 
entertainment,  knowing  well  that  her  liege  lord  was  feeling  in  no  mood 
for  such  light  duty. 

Almost  the  first  thing  that  the  colonel  heard  on  going  down-stairs 
this  bright  Sunday  morning  was  an  animated  colloquy  in  the  kitchen 
between  cook  and  his  man-of-all-work,  an  old  darky  who  had  followed 
the  family  fortunes  for  years.  Jake  had  learned  from  the  police-sergeant, 
while  he  was  at  work  on  the  colonel's  boots  and  spurs,  that  Corporal 
Brent  had  been  "  slugged"  by  somebody  the  night  before  and  was  now 
lying  unconscious  in  the  hospital.  There  was  time  only  for  very  brief 
investigation  before  his  guests  came  down.  Mr.  Wallace  was  officer 
of  the  guard,  and,  in  response  to  the  message  brought  by  the  colonel's 
orderly,  had  gone  at  once  to  his  quarters  and  made  his  report. 

Somewhere  about  twenty  minutes  after  midnight,  the  sentry  on  No. 
1  had  called  Corporal  Werner  out,  saying  there  appeared  to  be  some- 
thing wrong  up  by  the  gate.  Mr.  Wallace,  knowing  Brent  to  have 
gone  thither,  sprang  up  and  went  outside,  and  saw  a  light  being  carried 
rapidly  from  Captain  Lane's  quarters,  at  the  corner,  over  towards  the 
cavalry  barracks.  Hurrying  around  in  front,  he  got  there  just  in  time 
to  see  the  captain  and  the  young  lady  who  had  recently  arrived.  Miss 
Marshall,  raising  Corporal  Brent  from  the  ground.  He  was  bleeding 
from  a  jagged  gash  over  the  left  eye,  and  was  limp  and  senseless. 
After  having  him  carried  to  the  hospital  and  arousing  the  steward,  it 
was  found  that  his  face  and  eyes  were  covered  with  red  pepper.  Not 
a  word  as  to  his  assailants  could  be  learned.     The  last  men  to  reach 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  731 

the  garrison  were  Murphy  and  Scanlan,  two  scapegraces  of  Company 
F.  But  the  sentry  on  No.  4  declared  they  had  come  around  by  his 
post  on  the  south  side,  whereas  Brent  was  lying  almost  in  front  of  the 
quarters  of  C  troop,  inside  the  post.  Then,  again,  Scanlan  and  Murphy 
were  both  sober,  and  neither  of  them  men  who  would  be  likely  to 
assault  so  popular  and  respected  a  fellow  as  Brent.  Indeed,  both  of 
them  stoutly  denied  having  had  anything  to  do  with  the  case.  What 
was  more,  Miss  Marshall  had  said  that  she  heard  the  altercation,  heard 
a  scuffle,  and  heard,  though  she  could  not  see,  that  the  man  ran  toward 
the  cavalry  barracks  with  the  corporal  in  pursuit;  then  came  the  sound 
of  a  shock  or  blow ;  then  the  fall,  and,  hurrying  down-stairs,  she  had 
called  Captain  Lane,  and,  lighting  his  little  hurricane  lamp,  she  had 
hastened  out  along  the  road,  the  captain  rapidly  following ;-  and  there 
at  the  foot  of  C  troop  stairway  lay  Brent,  bleeding  profusely. 

"  It  was  some  of  our  men  that  did  it,  sir,"  said  Wallace,  regret- 
fully, "  and  I'd  give  a  mouth's  pay  to  prove  it  on  them.  I'd  give 
more  than  that  if  I  thought  I  could  prove  that  no  cavalryman  had 
anything  to  do  with  it. 

Then  the  colonel  had  sent  his  orderly  to  ask  the  doctor  how  Brent 
was  coming  on,  and  the  doctor  replied  that  he  was  still  unconscious 
and  he  really  could  not  tell  how  the  case  would  end.  It  was  from  this 
message  the  orderly  had  just  returned.  Old  Morris  was  greatly  dis- 
turbed. He  had  purposed  having  a  review  of  the  entire  command, 
cavalry  dismounted,  and  treating  his  guests  to  a  stirring  and  martial 
sight ;  but  when  the  assembly  sounded  he  had  completely  changed  his 
mind,  and  so  informed  his  wife.  "  I'm  all  upset  about  this  aifair,"  he 
said,  "  and  impatient  to  begin  an  investigation." 

The  band  was  ordered  back  to  quarters ;  the  captains  were  notified 
to  inspect  their  companies  on  their  own  parades ;  and,  merely  ex- 
changing his  helmet  for  forage-cap  and  laying  aside  his  sabre,  the 
colonel  strode  over  to  the  office,  passing  by  the  three  cavalry  troops 
that  were  nearest  him,  even  cutting  across  the  parade  as  though  to 
avoid  salute,  and  appeared  directly  in  front  of  C  troop,  that  was  drawn 
up,  in  double  rank  and  at  open  order,  farthest  to  the  south  side. 
Lieutenant  Hearn,  temporarily  in  command,  was  engaged  in  inspecting 
carbines,  but  at  sight  of  the  regimental  commander  discontinued  his 
work  and  raised  his  hand  to  the  visor  of  his  helmet. 

"Go  on,  go  on,  Mr.  Hearn,"  said  the  colonel,  gruffly.  "I  did  not 
mean  to  interrupt  you."  Nevertheless,  he  who  had  paid  no  attention 
to  the  other  companies  plainly  halted  in  front  of  C,  and  was  scanning 
the  men's  faces  with  eyes  that  were  full  of  gloom.  Next  he  strode 
around  the  right  of  the  line,  and  passed  down  in  front  of  the  rear  rank 
until  he  reached  the  centre,  where  the  tallest  men  were  standing,  and 
where  he  fixed  his  gaze  upon  one  soldier,  a  tall,  slender,  but  muscular 
fellow ;  he  looked  him  from  head  to  foot,  but  passed  him  slowly  with- 
out one  word.  A  sergeant  file-closer  noted  that  the  fingers  of  the 
soldier's  left  hand  twitched  and  closed  as  the  colonel  approached,  and 
that  a  lump  seemed  to  rise  in  the  brawny  throat,  but  was  quickly 
gulped  down.  There  was  no  other  symptom,  though,  and  Lieutenant 
Mason,  the  adjutant,  who  had  joined  his  colonel,  saw  that  the  man's 


732  ^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

eyes  never  wavered  from  their  look  straight  to  the  front,  although  he 
might  have  paled  a  trifle  under  that  stern,  searching  gaze. 

Half  an  hour  later,  inspection  being  over,  the  colonel  sat  in  his 
office,  holding  an  investigation.  The  captain  of  C  troop  was  absent 
on  sick-leave  at  the  time,  and  the  command  had  devolved  upon  a 
young  officer  who  had  won  a  fine  record  in  their  Arizona  days,  and 
who  was  regarded  throughout  the  regiment  as  perhaps  the  most  prom- 
ising of  all  the  subalterns.  He  was  an  excellent  horseman,  a  fine 
tactician,  and  a  drill-master  of  whom  his  men  had  become  vastly  proud. 
Under  the  mild-mannered  sway  of  their  captain,  a  war  veteran  of  un- 
certain years,  C  had  fallen  about  to  the  foot  in  proficiency  in  drill  and 
horsemanship.  But  the  moment  young  Hearn  got  command  they 
began  the  turning  over  of  a  very  new  leaf.  Little  instruction  of  any 
kind  except  mountain-scouting  had  been  imparted  in  Arizona,  but  when 
they  came  eastward,  and  old  Riggs,  their  former  colonel,  made  way  for 
a  much  better  soldier,  discipline  and  drill  began  on  the  instant.  For 
a  few  weeks  C  troop  had  to  take  all  the  raspings,  and  the  men  were 
disheartened  as  much  by  the  jeers  of  their  comrades  as  by  the  sharp 
raps  of  their  colonel.  Hearn,  too,  was  fretting  himself  half  to  death ; 
but  when  his  captain  was  taken  ill  and  was  compelled  to  turn  over  the 
troop  to  his  subaltern,  the  youngster  "  took  hold"  in  a  way  that  filled 
Mason's  soul  with  delight,  and  that  speedily  enchanted  the  men.  From 
being  the  worst,  C  troop  soon  challenged  all  comers  for  the  right  to  be 
called  the  best-drilled  troop  at  the  post,  and  Captain  Lane,  of  D, 
had  cordially  congratulated  Hearn  on  the  result  of  his  excellent  effort. 
The  young  fellow  had  that  faculty,  in  which  so  many  are  lacking,  of 
inspiring  the  men  with  enthusiasm  and  interest ;  and  by  the  time 
April  was  ushered  in  there  was  nothing  the  troopers  of  C  would  not  do 
for  their  young  commander. 

Black  sheep,  they  say,  exist  in  every  flock,  and  while  fifty  or  more 
of  their  men  swore  by  their  lieutenant,  and  were  proud  to  serve  under 
him,  there  were  perhaps  two  soldiers  in  the  troop  who  seemed  to  lose 
no  opportunity  of  defaming  him.  One  of  these  was  a  man  named 
Goss,  who  had  long  been  on  extra  or  daily  duty  as  clerk  for  the  quarter- 
master, and  whose  errors  at  inspection  were  of  such  an  exasperating 
character  that  Mr.  Hearn  got  authority  to  make  him  attend  drill  until 
he  was  reported  proficient.  This,  of  course,  made  Goss,  who  prided 
himself  on  his  scholarship  and  sujjeriority  to  the  general  run  of  the 
men,  anything  but  happy  ;  and  in  his  wrath  and  discontent  he  vented 
his  spleen  whenever  possible  to  do  so  at  the  expense  of  his  young  lieu- 
tenant. The  other  man  was  a  tall,  dark-eyed,  gypsy-looking  fellow, 
whose  name  was  Welsh,  and  who  for  several  months,  off  and  on,  had 
preferred  to  be  the  captain's  "striker,"  or  soldier  servant, — take  care  of 
his  horses,  black  his  boots,  polish  his  spurs  and  sabre,  hew  wood,  draw 
water,  make  the  fires,  sweep  the  kitchen,  run  errands,  and  do  all  manner 
of  small  chores  about  the  house, — than  to  do  soldier  duty  with  his  com- 
rades. When  the  captain  closed  up  his  quarters  and  left  the  post, 
taking  his  family  eastward  with  him.  Lieutenant  Hearn  moved  in  to 
look  after  them  for  him.  This  was  by  the  captain's  own  request;  and, 
having  no  use  for  the  services  of  Welsh,  he  notified  that  worthy  to  re- 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  733 

turn  to  duty  with  the  troop  forthwith.  This  Welsh  bitterly  resented. 
He  insisted  that  the  captain  had  told  him  before  going  that  he  was  to 
stay  in  charge  of  his  quarters  and  be  excused  from  all  military  duty. 
Hearn  replied  that  there  was  probably  some  mistake,  but  telegraphed  to 
the  captain  and  obtained  immediate  reply  to  the  eifect  that  he  had  never 
given  the  soldier  any  such  promise,  and  that  he  desired  that  he  be  now 
returned  to  duty  with  the  troop  and  taught  something  of  the  practical 
duties  of  a  soldier,  which  he  had  too  long  neglected. 

Hearn  smiled  to  himself  as  he  read  this,  thinking  whose  fault  it 
was  that  Welsh  had  been  allowed  to  live  in  ignorance  of  much  of  the 
drill,  and  wondering  not  a  little  at  the  change  of  heart  that  seemed  to 
have  come  over  the  captain,  now  that  he  was  fairly  away.  A  smart 
young  corporal  was  detailed  to  give  the  two  men  thorough  instruction 
in  the  sabre-exercise  and  the  manual  of  the  carbine  and  pistol,  in  addi- 
tion to  which  Welsh  was  now  required  to  attend  all  roll-calls,  stable- 
duty,  and  drills  with  the  troop,  and  take  his  guard  tour  every  fifth  day, 
and  a  disgusted  man  he  was  in  consequence. 

As  the  captain's  "  striker"  he  had  led  a  life  of  comparative  ease,  for 
that  veteran  officer  had  long  since  outlived  any  ambition  to  shine  in  the 
service,  and  looked  upon  it  only  as  a  means  of  livelihood.  At  the  out- 
break of  the  war  old  Blauvelt  was  keeping  a  country  store  in  Ohio,  but 
dropped  his  yard-stick  and  sugar-scoop  at  the  first  call  for  volunteers, 
fought  like  a  man  all  through  the  four  yeare'  contest,  w^as  wounded, 
and,  having  risen  to  be  a  major  of  volunteer  infantry,  he  decided  in 
'66  to  stick  to  soldiering,  for  at  that  time  it  was  easy  to  obtain  a  com- 
mission in  the  regular  service  if  a  man  had  any  Congressional  influence 
or  connections  at  all.  When  the  army  was  remodelled  by  the  drastic 
process  in  1871,  and,  as  a  first  lieutenant,  he  was  dropped  to  the  super- 
numerary list  from  the  regiment  of  infantry  with  which  he  had  been 
serving,  Blauvelt  decided  that  he  was  now  too  old  to  begin  storekeeping 
over  again,  and  so  he  made  vigorous  effort  to  be  retained  in  the  army, 
and,  together  with  a  few  other  men  who  did  not  know  a  horse  from 
a  hand-saw,  was  transferred  to  a  vacancy  in  the  cavalry,  and  there  the 
placid  old  fellow  had  been  ever  since. 

Rejoining  from  the  East  with  a  batch  of  recruits,  immediately  after 
the  arrival  of  the  regiment  from  Arizona,  Blauvelt  had  resumed  com- 
mand of  C  troop,  and  had  given  directions  that  the  tall,  gypsy-looking 
fellow,  Welsh,  who  was  one  of  the  new-comers,  should  be  put  in  charge 
of  his  horses.  Next  he  moved  those  veteran  quadrupeds  from  the 
troop-stables  to  a  little  barn  in  the  back  yard  of  his  own  quarters. 
Then  Welsh  himself  moved  his  "  kit"  from  barracks  to  a  little  room  in 
the  barn,  and  gradually  became  an  inmate  of  the  captain's  household, 
taking  his  meals  under  the  captain's  roof,  performing  no  duty  with  the 
troop,  exempted  from  the  authority  of  the  first  sergeant,  yet  spending 
all  his  leisure  moments  in  loafing  among  the  company  quarters,  where 
he  speedily  gained  the  reputation  of  being  surly  and  insolent  to  the  non- 
commissioned officers  and  a  mischief-maker  among  the  men.  For  a 
recruit  who  had  only  recently  enlisted,  it  was  surprising  how  much  he 
knew  about  the  ins  and  outs  of  soldier  life.  Sergeant  Wren  openly 
accused  him  of  having  been  in  service  somewhere  before,  and,  as  he 


734  ^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

had  no  papers  to  show,  he  must  be  either  a  deserter  or  a  "  bobtail."* 
Welsh  angrily  denied  this,  and  his  ignorance  of  sabre-drill  and  certain 
trooper  details  seemed  to  bear  him  out.  "  But  then,"  said  Wren,  "  he 
might  have  been  in  the  '  dough-boys.' "  Welsh  avoided  the  troop 
quarters  for  a  while  after  this  episode,  and  was  more  civil  to  the  ser- 
geants, but  right  after  pay-day  he  again  appeared,  eager  to  try  his  luck 
in  any  game  going  on.  Then  it  transpired  that,  if  not  an  expert  with 
saddle  and  sabre,  he  was  with  the  cards,  and  the  troopers  lost  their 
money  to  him  without  exactly  understanding  how.  The  first  sergeant 
reported  these  occurrences  to  Captain  Blauvelt,  and  the  old  man  seemed 
greatly  vexed.  It  was  established  that  Welsh  had  been  neglecting  the 
horses  while  playing  his  game,  but  he  was  not  relieved  and  ordered 
back  to  duty  with  the  troop,  as  had  been  expected.  If  anything,  he  be- 
came more  insolent  in  manner  to  the  sergeants  than  before.  The  whole 
affair  seemed  unaccountable  to  the  other  men. 

One  morning  about  a  month  after  Welsh's  arrival  at  the  post, 
Lieutenant  Hearn  came  leaping  lightly  up  the  steps  to  make  an  inspec- 
tion of  the  barracks.  Corporal  Quinn,  seeing  him  approach  the  quar- 
ters, had  given  word  to  the  men,  and  those  of  them  who  were  in  shirt- 
sleeves jumped  into  their  flannel  blouses,  while  others  knocked  the 
ashes  out  of  their  pipes  and  put  them  away.  Three  or  four  were 
seated  around  a  little  table  playing  cards,  and  among  these  was  the 
gypsy  fellow  Welsh,  who  had  been  there  ever  since  guard-mount. 
These  men,  too,  sprang  to  their  bunks  and  straightened  up  some  items 
of  their  "  kits,"  but  Welsh  still  sat  at  the  table,  grumbling  at  the  inter- 
ruption to  the  game.  "  Put  up  those  cards,  Welsh,"  said  a  sergeant, 
bluntly.     "  Here  comes  the  lieutenant." 

"  What  do  I  care  ?"  was  the  surly  answer.  "  I'm  not  under  his 
ordei'S.     He's  got  no  authority  over  me." 

"  Do  as  I  tell  you,  and  be  quick  about  it,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Do  it  yourself ;  they  ain't  my  cards.  I  didn't  put  them  there," 
answered  the  man,  with  an  ugly  gleam  in  his  black  eyes,  while  he  drew 
from  one  pocket  a  piece  of  chamois-skin  and  from  the  other  one  of  the 
captain's  big  brass  spurs.     There  was  no  time  for  further  remark. 

"  Attention  !"  came  the  order  from  the  sergeant  who  happened  to 
be  nearest  the  door,  and  the  lieutenant  entered.  Every  man  on  the 
instant  whipped  off  his  cap,  and,  facing  the  middle  of  the  long  room, 
stood  erect  at  the  foot  of  his  bunk, — every  man  except  one.  With  his 
cap  on  the  back  of  his  head,  his  matted  hair  hanging  down  over 
his  eyes,  Welsh  sat  there  at  the  table,  coolly  polishing  the  spur. 

"  Get  up  there,  Welsh !"  growled  in  low,  stern  tones  the  first  ser- 
geant.    "Off  with  that  cap,  sir." 

For  all  answer,  Welsh  cocked  his  head  on  one  side,  and,  apparently 
unmindful  of  tiie  presence  of  an  officer,  became  critically  and  approv- 
ingly absorbed  in  studying  the  polish  which  he  was  imjjartiug  to  the 
smooth  surface  of  the  spur. 

"  Did  you  hear  that  order  ?  Come  to  attention,  sir !"  repeated  the 
sergeant.     And  the  men,  astonished  at  the  breach  of  discipline,  looked 

*  A  soldier  whose  discharge-paper  has  had  the  "  Character"  cut  oflf. 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  735 

curiously  at  the  recruit,  now  slowly  and  scowlingly  finding  his  feet. 
He  had  not  removed  his  cap  when  the  lieutenant  stood  before  him. 

"  Why  did  you  not  rise  with  the  other  men,  Welsh  ?"  asked  Mr. 
Hearn,  in  a  quiet  and  deliberate  tone  oddly  at  variance  with  his 
usually  quick  and  snappy  manner,  and  the  young  officer  looked  straight 
into  the  soldier's  eyes  as  he  spoke. 

"  Didn't  suppose  I  had  to,"  was  the  sullen  reply. 

"Why  not?" 

"  Well,  Tactics  say  soldiers  actually  at  work  don't  have  to  rise  and 
salute  officers." 

"  And  what  work  were  you  doing?" 

"  Work  for  the  captain, — cleaning  his  spurs." 

There  was  a  strange  silence  in  the  room.  This  was  a  new  interpre- 
tation, and  for  a  recruit  decidedly  an  original  one. 

"  Where  did  you  learn  that  idea,  Welsh  ?"  asked  the  lieutenant, 
still  calmly,  though  his  blue  eyes  began  to  dilate  in  a  way  that  indi- 
cated how  thoroughly  he  appreciated  the  man's  defiant  manner. 

"  Well,  no  matter  ;  I  learned  it." 

"  You  have  had  a  very  bad  teacher,  sir.  Take  your  hand  out  of 
that  pocket !" 

An  ugly  scowl  had  settled  on  Welsh's  downcast  face.  He  had 
stuffed  the  chamois-skin  in  his  blouse  pocket,  and  still  stood  there  in  a 
slouching  attitude,  with  his  cap  on  the  back  of  his  head.  Slowly,  in 
obedience  to  the  order,  lie  lowered  his  hand  to  the  side. 

"  Now  take  your  cap  off !" 

One  could  have  heard  a  pin  drop  all  over  the  big  room. 

Forty  men  stood  there  in  silence,  listening  breathlessly  to  this 
strange  and  unusual  colloquy.  Reluctantly,  yet  overawed  by  the 
steady  gaze  in  the  blue  eyes  of  the  young  officer,  Welsh's  hand  went 
up  to  the  cap,  then  tossed  it  angrily  some  distance  away.  If  he  ex- 
pected rebuke  on  that  score  it  was  not  forthcoming. 

"Now  get  your  heels  together  and  stand  attention." 

"You've  got  no  right  to  order  me  around  like  this.  Lieutenant 
Hearn.  I'm  on  duty  for  the  captain,  I  am, — not  for  any  second  lieu- 
tenant." 

For  an  instant  every  nerve  and  muscle  in  the  officer's  athletic  frame 
seemed  to  quiver.  His  blue  eyes  blazed  with  wrath,  and  his  lips  set 
firmly  under  the  blonde  moustache. 

There  was  a  moment  of  death-like  silence ;  a  gasp  or  two  among 
the  men.  Sergeant  Wren's  bronzed,  weather-beaten  face  was  a  picture 
of  amaze  and  indignation.  Welsh  himself,  as  though  realizing  the 
insolence  of  his  language  and  dreading  the  consequences,  had  finally 
assumed  the  position  of  a  soldier, — so  far  at  least  as  his  heels  and  legs 
were  concerned  ;  but  his  head  hung  forward  and  his  eyes  glanced  fur- 
tively about  the  room  as  if  in  search  of  sympathy ;  but  there  was  not 
a  soldier  to  side  with  him, 

"  Take  that  man  under  guard,"  were  at  last  the  words  that  fell 
from  the  lieutenant's  lips. 

A  corporal  stepped  quickly  forward.  "  Come  on,  Welsh,"  he  mut- 
tered, in  no  gentle  tone,  and  led  the  scowling  trooper  from  the  room. 


736  ^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

The  lieutenant  calmly  finished  his  inspection  of  the  quarters,  a  red 
spot  burning  in  each  cheek,  as  he  walked  around  from  bunk  to  bunk. 
Then,  as  he  turned  away  and  lightly  descended  the  stairs,  Sergeant 
Ross's  voice  was  heard  to  say,  ''  Rest !"  The  men  looked  quickly 
about  at  one  another.  Some  of  them  stretched  their  arms  to  full 
length  and  gave  a  long  sigh,  as  though  to  find  relief  from  the  strain. 
And  then  little  Duffy  announced  his  opinion : 

"  By  gad,  fellers,  if  I'd  been  the  lieutenant,  I'd  have  knocked  the 
top  of  his  d d  head  off." 

The  garrison  court  which  tried  Trooper  Welsh  for  insubordinate 
conduct  had  found  him  guilty,  despite  his  statement  that  according  to 
the  Tactics  he  wasn't  required  to  get  up  and  salute,  he  being  at  work. 
The  evidence  of  the  sergeants  established  the  fact  that  he  was  playing 
cards  when  the  lieutenant  approached,  and  that  the  spur-cleaning  was 
a  transparent  sham,  introduced  for  the  occasion  and  for  evident  pur- 
pose. But  in  view  of  the  fact  that  he  claimed  to  believe  that,  as  the 
captain's  orderly,  he  was  not  under  the  lieutenant's  orders,  in  view  of 
the  fact  that  he  had  apparently  been  only  ten  months  in  service,  and 
of  the  further  fact  that  his  captain  gave  him  an  excellent  character  and 
pleaded  for  clemency  for  the  recruit,  the  court  saw  fit  to  let  him  off 
easily  with  a  fine.  Mr.  Mason,  the  adjutant,  and  Mr.  Hearn  were 
strongly  of  the  opinion  that  he  ought  to  be  returned  to  the  troop  at 
once  and  taught  his  duties  as  a  soldier.  But  the  colonel  was  away  just 
then ;  Major  Kenyon,  of  the  infantry,  was  temporarily  in  command, 
and  he  would  not  disturb  old  Blauvelt's  "  striker."  Indeed,  it  seemed 
as  though  the  troop  commander  was  disposed  to  resent  Hearn's  having 
ordered  the  man  to  be  confined,  though  the  young  officer  was  actually 
in  command  that  day,  the  captain  being  on  sick-report.  It  is  certain, 
too,  that  Mrs.  Blauvelt  made  some  very  acrimonious  criticisms  of  the 
lieutenant's  action,  and  that  the  first  story  in  circulation  in  the  garrison 
was  by  no  means  creditable  to  either  his  tact  or  temper.  Welsh  spent 
only  two  days  in  the  guard-house  this  time,  but  his  language  during 
that  brief  incarceration  was  such  as  to  intensify  the  feeling  among  the 
men  that  he  was  no  novice  in  garrison  affairs.  He  was  loud  in  his 
threats  against  the  lieutenant,  and  full  of  argument  as  to  the  propriety 
of  his  conduct. 

"  I  was  at  work,  by  God  !  and  had  '  particular  occupation,'  to  use 
the  language  of  the  Tactics,  and  you'll  find  it  in  paragraph  797,  and  I 
wasn't  required  to  rise  and  uncover.  Look  at  it  and  you  will  see  for 
yourselves,"  he  complained. 

And  it  was  Sergeant  McKenna,  of  the  infantry,  who  retorted, — 

"  And  where  did  you — a  cavalryman — learn  the  numbers  of  the 
paragraphs  in  infantry  tactics,  Welsh  ?  And  while  you  were  about  it, 
why  didn't  you  learn  paragraph  803  as  well?  that's  the  one  that  covers 
your  case,  me  buck,  and,  begad  !  if  I'd  been  there  you'd  'a'  dropped 

that  s]Hir-r  and  got  on  your  feet  d d  quick,  or  I'd  'a'  jerked  the 

backbone  out  of  yees.  Where  did  you  learn  your  infantry  tactics, 
I  say  ?" 

And  here  Welsh  could  only  redden  with  mingled  wrath  and  con- 
fusion.    From  this  time  on  the  impression  gained  ground  that  he  was 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  737 

a  deserter  from  some  foot  regiment,  and  one  who  had  again  enlisted  in 
the  army,  but  under  an  assumed  name. 

Within  the  week  after  Captain  Blauvelt's  departure  Trooper  Welsh 
was  twice  again  confined  and  brought  before  a  garrison  court.  He  had 
accompanied  the  captain's  family  to  the  train,  and,  carrying  Mrs.  Blau- 
velt's numerous  bags  and  baskets  into  the  sleeper,  was  borne  away,  ap- 
parently unavoidably.  The  conductor  wired  back  that  he  had  safely 
landed  him  at  Barclay,  a  thriving  little  town  ten  miles  to  the  east,  and 
that  he  had  abundant  means  to  buy  his  ticket  back ;  but  he  was  gone 
forty-eight  hours,  and  at  the  expiration  of  that  time  was  dumped  in  a 
dishevelled  condition  at  the  post  by  the  town  marshal,  with  the  infor- 
mation that  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  crossed  sabres  on  his  cap  he  would 
have  had  him  in  the  county  jail  for  drunken  and  disorderly  conduct 
and  resistance  to  the  officers  of  the  law.  "  Where  does  he  get  his 
money?"  asked  that  official.  "He  smashed  about  twenty  dollars' 
worth  of  glass  windows,  and  paid  all  fines,  costs,  and  damages,  and 
yet  had  some  ten  dollars  to  spare."  The  men  in  C  troop  could  have 
told  where  he  got  his  money,  but,  as  that  was  won  in  gambling,  nothing 
was  said,  by  them,  about  it.  Welsh  was  tried  for  absence  without  leave, 
and  coolly  pleaded  that  he  had  been  carried  away  while  serving  his  cap- 
tain and  was  then  detained  by  the  civil  authorities.  Lieutenant  Hearn, 
however,  testified  that  he,  who  carried  one  of  the  children  aboard,  had 
ample  time  to  get  off,  and  that  Welsh  preceded  him  in  getting  on  the 
train.  The  town  marshal  testified  that  Welsh  was  drunk  around  the 
village  for  thirty-six  hours,'  but  that  nobody  interfered  with  him  until 
his  conduct  became  so  outrageous  that  he  was  compelled  to  arrest  him. 
Welsh,  therefore,  was  sentenced  to  a  fine  of  five  dollars  and  to  ten  da^s 
in  the  guard-house,  simply  for  absence  without  leave,  attending  all 
drills  and  stable-duty.  Three  days  later,  while  he  was  grooming  one 
of  Captain  Blauvelt's  horses  at  the  picket-line,  Lieutenant  Hearn's 
spirited  little  bay,  which  happened  to  be  next  him  playing  with  the 
trumpeter's  steed  across  the  line,  suddenly  switched  around  with  his 
powerful  haunches  and  knocked  Welsh's  curry-comb  out  of  his  hand. 
The  gypsy  fellow  straightened  up,  glanced  quickly  about  him,  saw  that 
the  lieutenant's  back  was  turned,  and  then,  with  a  vicious  gleam  in  his 
piercing  eyes,  drew  back  his  heavily-booted  right  foot  and  with  all  his 
force  kicked  the  young  bay  in  the  stomach.  Keogli  plunged  madly 
with  the  sudden  pain,  and  in  an  instant  little  Dooley,  who  was  groom- 
ing the  lieutenant's  horse,  had  thrown  down  curry-comb  and  brush  and 
smote  the  gypsy  under  the  eye,  knocking  him  up  against  the  captain's 
bulky  and  placid  charger.  In  another  instant,  too.  Sergeant  Wren 
leaped  in  and  separated  the  men,  Welsh  wild  with  fury,  Dooley  dancing 
about  in  a  glow  of  righteous  wrath. 

Hearing  the  noise,  the  lieutenant  sprang  to  the  scene.  "Silence, 
both  of  you  !"  he  ordered.     "  What  does  this  mean,  sergeant?" 

"  He  struck  me,  the  infernal  little  cur,  and  I'll  kill " 

"  Not  a  word  more  from  you,  Welsh.  What  made  you  strike  him, 
Dooley  ?" 

"  Look  at  Keogh's  belly,  sir,"  almost  sobbed  the  little  Irishman  in 
his  rage  and  grief.     "  See  where  he  kicked  him." 

Vol.  XL VI.— 48 


738  ^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

Sure  enough,  there  on  the  glistening  coat  an  ugly  lump  was  rising 
and  a  jagged  groove  plainly  showed  where  the  cruel  boot  had  struck, 
while  Keogh  still  quivered  and  trembled.  For  a  moment  young  Hearn 
was  too  angry  to  trust  himself  to  speak.  He  stood  there  with  his  eyes 
fairly  blazing.     At  last  he  turned  to  the  sergeant : 

"This  man  has  been  frequently  cautioned  never  to  strike  or  kick  a 
horse,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  Every  man  in  the  troop  has,  sir,  time  and  again." 

Hearn  slowly  turned  upon  the  scowling  soldier :  "  It  would  serve 
you  but  right  if  I  kicked  you  as  you  have  kicked  that  horse.  Brutality 
of  that  kind  cannot  be  tolerated  here,  sir,  and  you  will  stand  your  trial 
for  it.     Take  him  back  to  the  guard-house,  sergeant." 

"  I  kicked  him  because  he  kicked  me,"  growled  Welsh. 

"  It's  a  lie,  sir,"  cried  Dooley,  bursting  in.  "  Sure  the  horse  was 
just  playing,  like,  and  never  touched  him  at  all." 

"  Never  mind,  Dooley  :  your  evidence  will  be  called  for  when  it  is 
wanted." 

"  By  God  !  if  I'm  to  be  punished  for  hitting  a  horse,  what's  to  be 
done  with  him  for  striking  a  man,  I  want  to  know  ?"  exclaimed  Welsh, 
as  with  a  curse  he  hurled  his  curry-comb  to  the  ground. 

"  Come  on,  you  blackguard,"  muttered  Sergeant  Wren,  as  he  col- 
lared the  man.  "  You  can  thank  God  I  didn't  see  you  do  it.  I'd 
I'arn  you  never  to  kick  a  horse." 

It  was  this  affair  which  led  to  Welsh's  third  court-martial  in  less 
than  a  month.  And  it  was  Welsh  now  whom  Colonel  Morris  believed 
to  have  been  the  assailant  of  Corporal  Brent  the  night  before,  and  the 
instigator,  as  well,  of  more  or  less  of  the  mischief  that  had  been  going 
on.  It  was  Welsh  whom  Mr.  Hearn  more  than  half  suspected.  It 
was  Welsh  whom  Sergeant  Wren  himself  had  openly  accused  when  the 
troop  came  back  from  stables  Sunday  morning.  But  when  Wren  was 
called  into  the  colonel's  presence  at  the  office,  and  asked  what  he  knew, 
he  was  compelled  to  say  it  could  not  have  been  Welsh  at  all. 

"  What  are  your  reasons,  sergeant  ?"  asked  the  colonel.  And  the 
eyes  of  the  group  of  officers  were  fixed  on  the  veteran  trooper  who 
stood  so  sturdily  and  respectfully  before  them. 

"  Because  I  went  through  the  quarters  just  after  tattoo  last  night  to 
see  how  the  men  had  been  cleaning  up  for  to-day.  Their  boots  had  all 
been  carefully  blacked,  except  the  stable-boots,  and  set  at  the  foot  of  the 
bunks,  and  their  blouses  and  trousers,  except  the  ones  they  had  on,  were 
brushed  and  folded  on  their  boxes.  I  took  particular  note  of  Welsh's, 
for  he  was  stubborn  about  cleaning  his  things ;  and  about  Goss's,  too, 
for  Goss  has  been  surly  ever  since  he  was  made  to  drill  and  attend  in- 
spection. Sergeant  Ross  says  no  man  passed  through  the  door  before 
he  went  to  sleep ;  but  any  man  who  wanted  to  could  slip  out  of  a  win- 
dow in  his  stocking-feet  and  go  down  the  rear  stairway,  and  then  run 
down  to  Mulligan's  place  just  outside  the  reservation  and  get  what  liquor 
he  wanted,  and  come  back  the  same  way.  I  was  one  of  the  first,  sir, 
to  get  dressed  to  go  out  after  Corporal  Brent  was  hurt.  The  other  cor- 
poral of  the  guard  came  into  my  room  to  get  my  lantern,  and  just  as 
soon  as  they  liad  carried  Brent  to  the  hospital  I  ran  up-stairs  and  made 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  739 

an  inspection.  Welsh  was  there  in  his  bunk,  undressed,  and  apparently 
asleep.  His  boots  and  clotiies  hadn't  been  touched.  Goss  was  in  his 
underclothing,  half  awake.  There  were  his  boots  covered  with  dust, 
and  in  places  still  damp  with  dew.  There  were  the  trousers  that  had 
been  folded,  lying  loosely  across  the  box.  Goss  swore  that  he  hadn't 
been  out  at  all,  but  I  pointed  to  his  boots  and  trousers,  and  when  the 
man  started  up,  as  though  in  surprise,  to  look  at  them,  a  pint-flask  half 
filled  with  whiskey  slid  from  under  his  pillow."  But  this  was  not 
all,  said  Wren,  Scanlan  and  Murphy  had  admitted  being  joined  by  a 
trooper  as  they  came  up  past  the  stables.  He  joined  them  again  after 
they  had  reported  at  the  guard-house,  a  trifle  late,  had  given  them  a 
drink  of  whiskey  from  his  flask,  told  them  the  coast  was  clear  and  they 
might  just  as  well  slip  through  the  gate  and  run  across  the  parade : 
what  was  the  odds,  so  long  as  no  one  knew  it?  But  the  instant  they 
heard  Corporal  Brent's  voice,  they  started  and  ran  until  behind  the 
officers'  quarters,  and  then  they  noted  that  their  cavalry  acquaintance 
had  stayed  behind.  They  did  not  know  his  name  at  all, — could  not 
describe  him,  for  it  was  too  dark :  all  they  knew  was  that  he  was  tall 
and  had  a  thick,  bushy  beard.  Welsh's  face,  except  the  black  mous- 
tache, was  always  clean  shaved :  not  so,  however,  with  Goss.  He  wore 
a  full  beard. 

At  noon  on  Sunday,  therefore,  Trooper  Goss  was  behind  the  bars, 
awaiting  the  result  of  Corporal  Brent's  injuries.  When  searched  at  the 
guard-hsuse,  and  his  pockets  were  turned  inside  out,  the  corporal  of  the 
guard  began  to  sneeze;  and  then  it  was  discovered  that  some  tiny, 
tawny-colored  particles  sticking  about  the  seam  were  grains  of  Cayenne 
pepper,  a  small  packet  of  which,  half  empty,  was  found  lying  in  the 
road-way,  midway  between  the  quarters  and  the  southwest  gate. 


III. 

It  was  a  lovely  May  morning,  and  a  warm  south  wind  was  blow- 
ing through  the  open  windows  of  Captain  Lane's  cosey  quarters  and 
billowing  the  dainty  curtains  of  the  breakfast-room.  Down  in  the 
westward  valley,  close  under  the  bluffs,  a  white  mist  was  creeping  up- 
ward from  the  shallows  of  the  stream,  and  here  and  there  among  the 
furrows  of  the  company  gardens,  and  along  the  railway-embankment, 
little  wisps  of  fog  hovered  over  the  soaking  earth.  It  had  rained  in 
torrents  during  the  night,  but  Nature  emerged  from  her  bath  glowing 
in  the  rays  of  a  sunrise  that  the  officer  of  the  day  pronounced  simply 
gorgeous,  as  he  turned  out  for  reveille.  A  man  less  joyous-hearted  than 
Captain  Lane  might  have  found  much  to  delight  him  in  such  a  radiant 
morning.  But  those  sunrises  were  old  stories  to  this  particular  trooper, 
and  though  there  was  hardly  a  State  or  Territory  west  of  the  Missouri 
in  which  he  had  not  turned  out  with  the  lark  and  welcomed  in  the 
new-born  day,  he  seemed  just  as  keen  a  worshipper  of  the  sun-god  as  in 
the  buoyancy  of  his  boyish  days,  when,  nearly  a  score  of  years  before, 
he  had  first  joined  the  Eleventh  Cavalry.  He  was  a  man  honored  and 
esteemed  in  his  profession.  He  was  well-to-do  in  the  world,  thanks  to 
the  prudence  and  frugality  of  his  subaltern  days.     He  had  hardly  a 


740  ^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

care  in  the  world.  He  had  charming  quarters,  had  a  charming  station, 
and  he  was  wedded  only  during  the  year  before  to  a  woman  whom  he 
devotedly  loved,  and  who  believed  that  the  world  had  never  contained 
a  man  so  true  and  tender  and  noble  as  he.  A  very  lovely  woman  was 
Mrs.  Lane,  and  a  very  sweet  and  winning  hostess  she  made  when  doing 
the  honors  of  her  army  home.  There  were  those,  to  be  sure,  who  could 
detect  a  species  of  nervousness  and  a  vague  anxiety  in  her  manner  at 
times,  and  there  were  people — there  always  are,  worse  luck  ! — who 
could  not  quite  forgive  her  her  present  happiness,  or  excuse  it  in  her 
that,  after  having  been  wooed  and  won  by,  and  wedded  to,  the  Adonis 
of  the  regiment  some  few  years  before,  she  had  again  wedded,  and  this 
time  the  most  eligible  bachelor  in  the  command,  not  much  more  than 
two  years  after  the  not  untimely  taking  off  of  her  first  husband.  "  No 
woman  ought  to  be  allowed  more  than  one  choice  out  of  a  regiment," 
was  the  half-laughing,  half-rueful  remark  of  some  of  the  army  wives 
who  had  sisters  yet  unchosen.  They  thought  Mrs.  Lane  had  rather 
too  much  good  luck,  despite  the  fact,  now  well  and  generally  known, 
that  her  first  marriage  was  a  brief  story  of  sudden  disenchantment,  of 
woe  and  wretchedness,  of  shame  and  sorrow  unspeakable.  Except 
among  the  women,  the  name  of  her  first  husband  was  rarely  spoken  in 
the  Eleventh ;  but,  unworthy  though  he  was,  there  were  not  lacking 
censors  of  her  own  sex  to  point  out  time  and  again  how  impossible  it 
would  have  been  for  them,  had  they  lost  a  husband  in  the  army,  ever 
to  think  of  taking  another  in  the  same  regiment,  especially  when  it  was 
known  that  No.  2  had  been  in  love  with  her  before  she  met  the  original 
conqueror  of  her  maiden  heart.  That  these  remarks  should  in  various 
forms  come  eventually  to  her  ears  one  can  hardly  doubt ;  and  that  a 
cloud  should  at  times  overspread  the  tranquil  sky  of  her  sweet  home 
life,  no  one  who  knew  Mabel  Vincent  in  her  school-days  could  fail  to 
understand.  No  one  at  the  post,  except  her  own  loyal  husband,  dreamed 
of  the  tears  she  shed  over  remarks  that,  wilfully  or  witlessly,  were 
repeated  to  her.  He  strove  earnestly  to  soothe  and  comfort  her.  He 
redoubled  his  devoted  and  thoughtful  attentions.  Women  at  the  fort 
simply  raved  over  the  lover-like  ways  of  Captain  Lane  to  his  own  wife, 
and  never  tired  of  pointing  out  to  their  respective  lords  and  masters 
how  tender  and  watchful  he  was.  What  charming  little  presents  he 
was  always  bringing  her!  "Where  did  he  get  such  exquisite  violets, 
— such  lovely  carnations?"  "Did  you  ever  see  anything  sweeter  than 
that  locket  he  gave  her  last  week?  It  was  an  anniversary  of  some 
kind.  She  blushed  when  I  asked  her,  but  wouldn't  tell  what.  He's 
always  finding  excuses  for  giving  her  something,"  etc.  And  finally 
some  of  his  brother  Benedicks  had  come  to  him  with  gloomy  faces  to 
say  that  if  he  didn't  "  let  up  on  this  sort  of  thing"  they  would  have  to 
quit  the  regiment  and  the  service :  life  was  getting  to  be  all  one  in- 
vidious comparison  between  his  loveliness  as  a  husband  and  their  own 
individual  shortcomings  in  that  capacity. 

Several  months  had  been  spent  abroad  by  Captain  and  Mrs.  Lane 
after  the  quiet  wedding  which  united  them,  and  then,  joining  the  regi- 
ment at  the  fort  on  its  return  from  the  Arizona  tour,  they  speedily 
settled  in  their  army  home.     For  a  while  the  delights  of  fitting  up  the 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  741 

quarters  with  all  the  beautiful  rugs,  curtains,  pictures,  books,  and  bric- 
a-brac  they  had  brought  from  the  East  kept  Mrs.  Lane  so  busily  occu- 
pied that  she  had  no  time  to  think  of  possible  criticisms.  But  it  was 
not  long  before  the  captain  saw  that  the  cloud  he  dreaded  was  settling 
on  her  sweet  and  winsome  face.  He  did  not  need  to  ask  what  had 
been  said  to  her :  he  could  conjecture  M^hat  that  was  full  well. 

Taking  her  to  his  strong  heart,  he  had  kissed  away  the  brimming 
tears,  saying,  "Something  has  been  said  to  worry  and  annoy  you,  dear 
one.  I  do  not  ask  you  to  tell  me  ;  but  remember  what  I  have  always 
said  :  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  remarks  about  people  sound  very  differ- 
ently when  repeated  by  women — and  by  a  good  many  men,  too — than 
when  originally  spoken." 

Long  years  of  garrison  life  had  taught  him  that  in  the  almost  end- 
less little  tiffs  and  jealousies  among  the  women,  and  the  occasional 
misunderstandings  among  the  men,  people  rushed  to  confide  their  side 
of  the  story  and  pour  forth  their  grievances  into  the  ears  of  next-door 
neighbors,  with  whom,  as  likely  as  not,  they  became  in  turn  embroiled 
within  the  year,  while  the  quarrel  with  the  original  object  of  their 
wrath  had  been  long  since  forgotten.  His  own  policy  had  been  to  give 
every  man  his  ear,  but  none  his  voice,  when  personal  matters  were 
under  discussion.  But  he  knew  well  that  it  would  be  expecting  too 
much  of  most  women  that  they  should  simply  listen  and  not  tell. 
There  were  admirable  and  truthful  wives  and  mothers  in  the  little 
coterie,  whose  friendshij)  he  could  have  coveted  for  his  wife ;  but  one 
of  the  odd  features  of  frontier  life  is  that  the  impulsive  rush  for  the 
intimate  friendship  of  the  newly-arrived  army  bride  is  generally  made 
by  those  who  are  most  apt  to  betray  her  confidence  when  won,  and  to 
give  her  unfavorable  impressions,  "  absolutely  without  having  said  one 
word  against  them,"  of  the  very  ones  whose  stability  of  character 
makes  them  most  desirable  as  friends  and  neighbors.  Lane  noted  that 
the  women  he  most  liked  and  respected  were  the  ones  whom  she  was 
making  visible  efforts  to  regard  as  he  did.  Perhaps  had  he  painted 
them  in  less  glowing  colors  before  she  had  seen  for  herself,  a  very 
different  result  might  have  been  reached ;  for  if  a  man  really  wants 
his  wife  to  like  another  woman  whom  she  has  not  yet  met,  tiie  less  he 
says  of  her  perfections  the  better.  Wisely  Lane  made  no  attempt  to 
control  her  opinions,  but,  as  his  duties  kept  him  away  from  the  house 
much  of  the  day,  and  as  there  was  every  prospect  of  the  entire  battalion 
being  sent  on  a  long  practice-march  during  the  summer,  he  was  a  trifle 
at  a  loss  what  companionship  to  provide  for  her  during  the  inevitable 
separation.  It  was  with  genuine  rejoicing,  therefore,  that  he  read  one 
day  soon  after  their  arrival  a  letter  from  her  brother  which  she  silently 
handed  him,  and  then  sat  watching  his  face  as  he  conned  its  three 
pages. 

The  captain  finally  laid  it  down  and  looked  across  the  table,  a  kind 
light  in  his  gray  eyes.  "  You  want  to  do  something  for  her,  don't 
you,  Mabel  ?"  he  smilingly  asked. 

"  Indeed,  Fred,  I  wish  I  could.  She  has  had  such  hard  fortune, 
and  she  is  such  a  true  girl.  It  is  cruel  to  think  of  her  now  without  a 
home^  and,  as  Regy  says,  without  a  chance  of  employment.     I  know 


742  ^N  ARMY  PORTIA. 

the  AVoodrows  would  have  been  so  glad  to  take  her  abroad  with  them 
as  companion,  but  it's  too  late  for  that." 

"  Regy  doesn't  say  why  she  left  Mrs.  Withers,  but  I  fancy  I  can 
conjecture,"  said  Lane.  "  It  was  there  I  first  met  her,  at  a  dinner- 
party one  evening, — when  I  wanted  to  be  with  you." 

"  And  yet  were  abundantly  consoled,  as  I  have  heard  you  say  more 
than  once,  sir.  Oh,  she  has  told  rae  all  about  it,  too.  Indeed,  if  I 
weren't  disposed  to  be  mortally  jealous  of  her  wit  and  wisdom,  do  you 
know  what  I'd  do  ?" 

"How  can  I  divine,  your  ladyship?"  asks  Lane,  his  eyes  twin- 
kling. 

"  I'd  write  and  bid  her  come  here  to  us,  and  I'd  marry  her  to  the 
nicest  fellow  in  the  Eleventh  forthwith.  Oh,  you  shouldn't  see  any- 
thing of  her,  sir.  I'd  take  good  care  of  that.  But,"  with  sudden 
change  of  tone  and  manner,  "  wouldn't  it  be  lovely,  Fred  ?" 

"  Wouldn't  what  be  lovely  ?"  this  profound  dissembler  asks,  though 
he  knows  exactly  what  she  is  thinkiug. 

"Why,  to  have  her  come  and  live  with  us  and  marry  in  the 
regiment." 

"  She  isn't  very  pretty,"  said  the  captain,  doubtfully,  but  with  the 
tact  of  a  Talleyrand.  "  The  boys  might  not  admire  her  when  Mrs. 
Lane  was  alongside." 

"  Now,  Fred  !"  exclaims  Mistress  Mabel,  provoked  and  pleased  at 
once.     "  You  know  her  eyes  are  glorious." 

"  Hum  !     Passably — when  animated." 

"  When  isnH  she  animated  ?  She  always  enters  into  everything  so 
heartily.  She's  so  full  of  fun  and  life.  Why,  she  would  make  the 
ideal  army  wife,  Fred.     That  girl  can  do  anything." 

"  Then  why  condemn  her  to  marrying  in  the  army,  Mabel  ?" 

But  this  question  Madame  declines  to  answer.  She  comes  quickly 
around  the  table,  and,  with  her  arms  about  his  neck,  nestles  her  soft 
cheek  against  his  bronzed  and  weather-beaten  jowl,  burrows  under  the 
heavy  moustache  with  her  rosy  lips,  and  kisses  him  lovingly. 

"  Say  I  may,  Fred,"  she  whispers,  coaxingly. 

"You  may,  a  dozen  times  over.  I  think  I  rather  like  it,"  he 
laughs,  his  eyes  beaming  with  delight. 

"  You  stupid  boy  !"  She  is  shaking  him  now.  "  Say  I  may  write 
and  tell  her  to  come  right  away.  Reginald  can  bring  her  as  far  as 
Kansas  City  as  well  as  not." 

"  She'll  spoil  our  tete'CL-UteJ' 

"She  won't.  She'll  be  having  her  own  before  she  is  here  a  week. 
Besides,  you're  getting  tired  of  them  already."  She  says  this,  of 
course,  to  be  contradicted,  and  is  promptly  gratified. 

The  trumpet  is  sounding  "first  call,"  and  the  captain  is  compelled 
to  go.  "Do  as  you  like,  my  darling,"  he  gladly  answers.  "Any 
friend  of  yours  is  welcome;  and — I  think  you  might  tell  her  that 
passes  from  St.  Louis  will  be  forthcoming." 

And  now,  barely  two  weeks  later,  Georgia  Marshall,  for  the  second 
time  in  her  life,  finds  herself  an  inmate  of  an  army  garrison  and  living 
a  blithe  and  restful  life  after  years  of  thankless  toil.     She  was  not 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  743 

originally  one  of  Mrs.  Lane's  intimates  in  the  home  of  their  girlhood. 
They  had  known  each  other  as  children,  had  gone  to  dancing-school 
together,  but  Mabel  Vincent's  "  set"  was  made  up  mainly  from  the 
young  people  whose  parents  were  wealthy,  and  Miss  Marshall's  father 
had  had  to  struggle  hard  for  the  wherewithal  to  "  keep  the  wolf  from 
the  door."  She  was  only  seventeen  when  compelled  to  shift  for  her- 
self. Her  mother  had  been  taken  from  her  years  before.  She  had 
been  a  loving  and  devoted  daughter  to  her  sad-faced  father,  and  had 
comforted  and  blessed  the  humble  home  to  which  he  had  been  forced 
to  retire  after  some  disaster  which  involved  all  his  savings.  And  here 
she  worked  and  studied ;  and  here  she  gave  herself  up  to  the  task  of 
cheering  his  declining  years  until  the  feeble  thread  of  his  weary  life 
snapped  suddenly  asunder  and  she  was  alone.  For  a  few  months  she 
found  a  houie  in  the  army  in  the  household  of  a  relative  stationed  at 
the  barracks  near  at  hand.  But,  being  determined  to  lauuch  out  for 
herself,  she  had  sought  the  position  of  teacher  to  the  younger  children 
of  a  wealthy  manufacturer  and  of  companion  to  his  wife.  This  she 
had  held  for  a  few  years,  sorely  tried  at  times,  yet  never  complaining. 
She  had  ample  opportunity,  at  least,  to  read,  to  study,  and  to  estimate 
character.  Indeed,  it  was  her  keen  perceptions  that  brought  about  the 
final  rupture  between  herself  and  the  wife  of  her  employer,  herself  a 
distant  connection.  It  was  in  the  days  of  an  early  widowhood  that 
Mrs.  Lane  found  herself  so  frequently  in  Miss  Marshall's  company. 
During  the  winter  the  young  widow  had  spent  in  the  South  her 
mother's  health  was  failing,  and  between  the  invalid  and  Miss  Mar- 
shall there  had  sprung  up  a  friendship  and  intimacy  for  which  the 
daughter  at  the  time  could  hardly  account.  But  when  letter  after 
letter  came,  telling  how  the  girl  managed  to  run  over  almost  every  day 
and  spend  an  hour  or  two  reading  aloud,  and  then  when  Mrs.  Vincent 
began  to  intrust  much  of  her  correspondence  to  these  willing  hands, 
Mabel  had  learned  to  understand  how  unselfish  was  her  devotion ;  and 
after  her  mother's  death  there  arose  between  these  two  young  women — 
the  one  widowed,  yet  cherishing  a  new-born  love,  the  other  a  wage- 
worker  and  fancy  free — a  firm  friendship  which  gained  strength  with 
every  month.  It  was  to  Georgia  Marshall  that  Mabel,  sobbing  with 
emotion,  had  first  confided  the  news  of  her  engagement  to  Captain 
Lane,  and  was  amazed,  yet  rejoiced,  at  the  fervor  with  which  her  friend 
had  received  the  tidings.  "  At  last !"  she  cried.  "  Oh,  I  am  so  thank- 
ful !     He  has  loved  you  so  truly, — so  long  !" 

And  so,  when  from  brother  Reginald's  letter  Mrs.  Lane  read  the 
story  of  Georgia  Marshall's  final  difference  with  her  employers,  no 
time  was  lost  in  demanding  that  she  should  come  to  their  army  home 
for  what  Mabel  termed  a  good  long  rest.  She  was  determined  that 
Georgia  should  have  just  as  good  a  time,  just  as  much  attention,  just 
as  many  devotees,  as  any  girl  that  ever  turned  the  heads  of  the  bache- 
lors of  the  Eleventh.  For  the  week  preceding  the  young  lady's  arrival 
she  had  been  impulsively  preparing  the  young  fellows  for  Georgia's 
coming  and  sounding  her  praises  to  many  a  listening  ear.  Who  would 
not  listen  to  those  pretty  lips?  And  therefore  there  was  distinct  sense 
of  disappointment  among  the  subalterns  when  that  much-lauded  damsel 


744  ^^  ARMV  PORTIA. 

stepped  from  the  train  at  the  little  station  and  was  rapturously  enfolded 
to  Mabel's  heart.  Jim  Wallace,  who  was  Hearn's  especial  chum,  and 
"  Lazy"  Lee,  declared  that  the  new  arrival  was  plain  as  a  pipe-stem, 
except  that  her  hands  and  feet  were  particularly  slender  and  shapely. 
And  Mr.  Martin,  something  of  a  connoisseur,  declared  that  her  eyes 
were  the  only  redeeming  feature  of  her  face.  But  these  gentlemen  had 
seen  her  only  at  the  station  the  afternoon  of  her  arrival  after  a  dusty 
ride ;  and  Hearn  himself,  being  officer  of  the  guard,  was  not  presented 
until  the  following  day.  That  evening,  however,  he  was  her  escort  to 
the  little  gathering  at  the  colonel's,  and  was  far  from  content  that  she 
did  not  second  the  cordial  invitation  extended  by  Captain  and  Mrs. 
Lane  to  come  in  and  chat  awhile. 

But  now,  three  days  after  her  advent,  as  she  comes  down  to  the 
pretty  breakfast-room,  drinking  in  the  soft  balmy  air  that  floats  through 
the  open  window,  Georgia  Marshall's  face  is  by  no  means  plain.  Her 
eyes  are  deep,  dark,  full  of  intelligence  and  life.  Her  mouth  is  large, 
but  the  teeth  are  pearly  white  and  beautifully  regular.  The  instant 
she  speaks  or  smiles  there  is  transfiguration  in  her  looks,  and  her  man- 
ner is  all  unaffected  grace  and  gladness.  Mabel  raises  her  sweet  face 
to  meet  the  warm  good-morning  kiss.  The  captain  lays  down  the 
letter  he  is  conning  over,  and  the  perplexed  expression  vanishes,  as  he 
cordially  greets  her : 

"  Well,  and  how  did  the  heroine  of  Fort  Ryan  rest  last  night?" 
For  every  one,  it  seems,  is  talking  of  her  pluck  and  promptitude, — 
of  the  oddity  of  the  thing  that  she,  a  new  arrival,  should  have  been  the 
only  one  to  hear  the  brief  colloquy  between  that  unknown  ruffian  and 
the  corporal  of  the  guard,  that  she  should  have  been  the  first  to  reach 
and  succor  the  still  senseless  soldier,  Brent. 


IV. 

Out  along  the  grassy  slopes  the  liveliest  of  trumpet-calls  were  ring- 
ing. Long  lines  of  mounted  skirmishers  were  advancing  in  mimic 
attack  against  the  bluffs  to  the  north  of  the  wide  valley.  Assembly 
and  deploy,  rally  and  charge,  followed  each  other  in  quick  succession, 
and  the  piff-paff  of  carbines  far  out  on  the  eastern  flank  was  answered 
by  sweeping  dash  of  M'hirling  sabres  and  thunder  of  galloping  hoofs. 
Here  and  there  the  bright  hues  of  the  guidons  lent  color  to  the  sombre 
effect  of  service  dress  and  treeless  prairie.  And  along  the  bold  crests 
that  spanned  the  northern  sky-line  groups  of  gayly-attired  spectators, 
where  parasol  and  fan,  scarf  and  handkerchief,  seemed  fluttering  in 
constant  motion,  watched  the  busy  scene  on  the  flats  below.  Several 
buggies  and  carry-alls  had  driven  out  from  the  neighboring  town ; 
three  or  four  ambulances  and  Concord  wagons  were  present  from  the 
post  itself;  and  one  light  open  barouche,  drawn  by  two  stylish  bays  and 
driven  by  a  dignified  negro,  was  evidently  a  centre  of  attraction  for 
many  eyes.  Herein  were  seated  Mrs.  Lane  and  her  guest.  Miss  Mar- 
shall, with  their  near  neighbors,  the  wife  and  sister  of  Mr.  Wharton, 
first  lieutenant  of  Lane's  troop.  Several  ladies  from  the  fort  had 
alighted  from  their  various  vehicles  and  were  gathered  in  lively  con- 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  745 

versation  about  the  barouche.  Others,  seated  along  the  crest,  were 
watching  the  evolutions,  and  commenting,  as  is  their  wont,  on  the 
horsemanship  or  voice  of  this  officer  or  that.  Every  now  and  then 
some  town  buggy  would  drive  close  beside  the  one  stylish-looking 
carriage,  and  its  occupants  would  gaze  with  much  curiosity  upon  the 
party  therein.  As  a  rule,  these  gazers  were  women,  possibly  friends 
of  some  of  the  post  people,  and  this  was  not  a  matter  to  be  much  ob- 
jected to.  But  one  buggy,  drawn  by  a  gray  horse,  contained  two  men 
whose  appearance  Miss  Marshall's  keen  eyes  had  noted  as  they  passed 
the  first  time  and  closely  scrutinized  as  they  came  down  the  next.  One 
was  flashy  in  dress ;  both  were  loud  in  their  talk  and  swaggering  in 
manner;  both  were  smoking  cigars  of  questionable  origin,  and  one  of 
them  had  the  unmistakable  cut  of  the  German  Jew.  Any  one  could 
"  place"  him,  even  had  he  maintained  silence,  while,  on  the  other  hand, 
his  coarse  tones  would  in  the  blackest  darkness  have  proclaimed  his 
class.  Both  times  they  passed  they  stared  boldly  at  the  occupants  of 
the  carriage  and  critically  inspected  the  team  and  appointments, — the 
second  time  driving  close  alongside  and  perceptibly  slackening  up  to 
have  a  better  look.  Mrs.  Lane  flushed  under  such  bold  scrutiny,  and 
the  other  ladies  looked  embarrassed  and  annoyed. 

"  Ugh  !  those  horrid  men  !"  spoke  Mrs.  Morris,  the  coloners  wife, 
who  drove  up  just  in  time  to  catch  a  whiff  of  malodorous  smoke. 
"  Who  are  they?  and  what  are  they  doing  here?" 

"One  is  a  Mr.  Schonberg,"  answered  Mrs.  Brodie,  of  the  infantry. 
"  He  used  to  be  a  clerk  here  at  the  post  trader's  several  years  ago,  I  am 
told ;  but  he  has  his  own  store  in  town  now,  and  they  say  he's  an  awful 
cheat ;  no  one  will  deal  with  him, — from  the  post  at  least.  I  don't 
know  the  other  man  at  all.     He  is  a  stranger." 

"They  are  particularly  rude  in  manner,  it  seems  to  me,"  said  Mrs. 
Morris.  "  I  wish  the  colonel  would  keep  such  people  away  from  the 
reservation." 

"  That  man  likes  to  be  impudent,  Captain  Brodie  says.  He  was 
put  ofip  the  reservation  some  years  ago  and  ordered  never  to  come  on 
again.  He  was  caught  smuggling  liquor  to  the  men,  and  had  been  for 
months  lending  them  money  at  scandalous  interest,  and  every  one  knew, 
and  knows  now,  that  he  has  the  worst  kind  of  influence  on  them.  In- 
deed, Mrs.  Morris,  I  wish  the  colonel  would  keep  him  out,  although  I 
suppose  some  of  the  men — the  most  vicious  among  them — would  go  to 
his  place  in  town  whenever  they  wanted  money  or  liquor.  He  prob- 
ably ventures  out  here  because  the  Eleventh  has  just  come  to  the  gar- 
rison and  he  supposes  Colonel  Morris  to  be  in  ignorance  of  his  character 
and  of  the  orders  that  had  been  given  by  his  predecessor.  Major  Kenyon 
knows  him  well  enough ;  and  the  colonel  of  the  — th  Cavalry  gave 
strict  orders  that  he  should  not  be  allowed  even  to  cross  the  bridge. 
But  then  none  of  your  regiment  know  him,  I  suppose." 

"  Mr.  Hearn  knows  him,  Mrs.  Brodie,"  promptly  spoke  a  young 
lady  who  wore  not  inconspicuously  the  gold  crossed  rifles  of  the  in- 
fantry. 

"  Why,  how  can  that  be,  wlien  he  has  been  here  no  longer  than  the 
other  officers  of  the  Eleventh  ?"  was  the  immediate  reply. 


746  ^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

"  He  was  stationed  here  the  winter  following  his  graduation.  He 
was  still  an  additional  second  lieutenant  then.  You  remember  he  did 
not  get  his  promotion  to  the  Eleventh  until  nearly  a  year  after  he  left 
the  Point.  At  least  that  is  what  Mr.  McDonough  says."  And,  Mr. 
McDonough  being  the  owner  of  the  crossed  rifles,  the  damsel  blushes 
becomingly. 

"  Oh,  I  remember,"  answered  Mrs.  Morris.  "  Mr.  Hearn  told  us 
he  had  been  stationed  here  for  one  winter ;  but  he  didn't  seem  to  like 
it  much  then." 

"  Wasn't  Mr.  Hearn  a  little  wild  in  those  days  ?"  inquired  Mrs. 
Brodie.  "  It  seems  to  me  I  have  heard  as  much  from  some  of  the 
towns-people.  You've  no  idea  what  gossips  they  are.  Why,  I've 
learned  ever  so  much  about  your  predecessors,  the  — th,  that  I  never 
dreamed  of  before  they  left.  A  good  deal  about  Mr.  Hearn,  too." 
And  the  lady  looks  tentatively  at  Mrs.  Lane,  as  though  inviting  further 
question.  But,  glancing  an  instant  from  that  young  matron's  flushing 
face,  she  finds  Miss  Marshall's  big  dark  eyes  fixed  upon  her  with  a 
scrutinizing,  penetrating  expression  that  in  some  way  disheartens  her. 
"  I  beg  pardon,  though,"  she  hastens  to  say :  "  I  think  I  have  heard 
Mr.  Hearn  and  Captain  Lane  were  particular  friends.  Of  course  all 
this  happened  long  ago,  and  he  has  probably  outlived  his  youthful 
propensities." 

"  I  never  heard  of  Mr.  Hearn  as  anything  but  a  most  dutiful  and 
excellent  officer,"  said  Mrs.  Lane,  quietly.  "Captain  Lane  is  very 
fond  of  him." 

"  Certainly,  if  he  had  been  a  dissipated  man,  or  a  gambler,  or — any- 
thing else,"  says  Mrs.  Morris,  with  proper  spirit,  "  my  husband  would 
have  been  apt  to  know  it ;  but " 

"Oh,  it  wasn't  that,"  interposed  Mrs.  Brodie.  And  just  at  this 
instant  three  or  four  officers  came  cantering  up  the  slope,  taking  ad- 
vantage of  a  brief  rest  to  pay  their  devoirs  to  the  fair  spectators. 

Miss  Marshall  noted  that,  as  this  group  approached,  the  buggy  with 
its  objectionable  occupants  drove  slowly  away  in  the  direction  of  the 
fort.  Half  an  hour  later,  as  they  were  bowling  rapidly  homeward 
over  the  hard  prairie  road,  they  came  upon  the  infantry  battalion,  also 
skirmishing.  Everybody  but  the  guard  seemed  out  at  drill,  and  the 
post  was  practically  deserted.  Entering  the  garrison  limits,  Cassius, 
the  colored  coachman,  guided  his  bays  down  the  slope  between  the 
guard-house  and  the  post  trader's  store  and  then  up  the  incline  to  the 
southwest  gate,  preferring  this  road  to  going  along  the  garrison  in  front 
of  the  barracks  of  the  men.  The  ladies  were  chatting  blithely,  but 
both  Miss  Marshall  and  Miss  Wharton  noted  that  the  buggy  with  the 
gray  horse  was  halted  at  the  store  railing,  and  at  the  door  stood  the 
two  men  in  civilian  dress  and  a  third  in  the  undress  uniform  of  the 
cavalry.  All  three  stared  intently  at  the  occupants  of  the  barouche 
with  that  singular  expression  of  mingled  impudence  and  familiarity 
which  is  so  marked  a  characteristic  of  the  street  loafers  always  hanging 
about  the  corners  of  certain  thoroughfares  of  our  Western  cities  where 
the  police  are  not  yet  instructed  in  those  rules  of  civilization  which  re- 
quire such  parties  to  be  moving  on.     As  the  ladies  were  whirled  by, 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  747 

Mr.  Schonberg  was  seen  to  wink  expressively,  and  the  soldier,  a  dark- 
faced,  beetle-browed  fellow,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  looked  after 
them  and  grinned. 

"  How  annoyed  Mr.  Hearn  would  be,"  said  Miss  Wharton,  "  if  he 
could  have  seen  that  performance !" 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Lucy  ?  Those  horrid  men  again  ?"  asked 
her  sister,  who,  being  on  the  back  seat  with  Mrs.  Lane,  had  not  seen 
the  soldier's  face  after  they  passed  him  by. 

"The  men  are  impertinent,  certainly ;  one  expects  nothing  better 
of  that  class  of  people ;  but  all  the  soldiers  are  so  respectful  and  cour- 
teous to  our  ladies,  generally,  it  is  a  pleasure  to  meet  them.     Haven't 
you  noticed  how  different  they  are  from — well,  from  that  one.  Miss 
,  Marshall  ?" 

"  Yes,  indeed,  not  only  here,  but  in  the  old  artillery  barracks  where 
I  once  visited.  I  am  sure  Mrs.  Curtis,  my  cousin,  knew  the  name  of 
every  man  in  the  two  batteries,  and  always  had  a  pleasant  word  for 
them  when  we  met.  They  always  took  off  their  caps,  though  some  of 
the  old  sergeants,  to  be  sure,  saluted  just  as  they  would  to  an  officer. 
This  man  was  a  contrast  to  the  general  rule." 

"  Perhaps  he  is  not  of  our  regiment,"  suggested  Mrs.  Lane,  "  and 
does  not  know  the  ladies." 

"  Unluckily  he  is  of  *  ours,' "  said  Mrs.  Wharton.  "  That  is  Welsh, 
of  C  troop,  and  he  was  Captain  Blauvelt's  *  striker.'  Mr.  Wharton 
says  he  is  a  bad  character,  and  that  there  was  something  very  strange 
about  the  way  the  captain  kept  him  by  him  all  the  time  he  was  here. 
Why  isn't  he  at  drill,  I  wonder?" 

"  Possibly  he's  on  guard,"  said  Mrs.  Lane.  "  The  guard-house  is 
only  a  stone's-throw  away." 

"  He's  never  far  from  the  guard-house,"  laughed  Mrs.  Wharton,  as 
she  sprang  from  the  carriage  at  the  Lanes'  gate.  "  But  he's  not  on 
guard  to-day,  unless  he  has  taken  off  his  belts.  There !  they  have 
gone  in  to  the  bar.     How  I  wish  the  colonel  would  close  that  place !" 

Half  an  hour  later,  all  in  a  glow  after  their  rapid  drill,  four  or  five 
young  officers  strode,  laughing  and  chatting,  into  the  club-room  at  the 
store,  and,  throwing  off  belts,  caps,  and  gauntlets,  proceeded  to  bury 
their  moustaches  in  the  foaming  glasses  of  cool  beer  which  the  attendant 
promptly  supplied.  Over  on  the  other  side  of  the  establishment  loud 
voices  could  be  heard  in  animated  talk,  and  presently  Lieutenant  Lee 
called  out  to  the  attendant  to  close  the  door  leading  over  into  the  bar. 
Mr.  Stone,  the  trader,  entered  at  the  moment,  looking  a  trifle  vexed. 

"  Those  men  are  making  quite  a  racket  in  there.  Stone.  Who  are 
they  ?"  asked  the  lieutenant. 

"A  couple  of  fellows  from  town,  and  Welsh,  of  C  troop." 

"  Welsh !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Hearn,  who  was  glancing  over  the  pages 
of  a  late  paper.  "  Why,  he  has  no  business  here !  That  man  is  on 
sick-report,  under  the  doctor's  care.     Has  he  been  drinking?" 

"  They've  all  been  drinking,  more  or  less.  If  I  had  known  Welsh 
was  on  sick-report  I  would  have  told  Billy  not  to  sell  him  anything." 

"  Why,  that  man  was  told  that  he  must  stay  in  quarters  all  the 
time  the  command  was  at  drill.     It's  a  rule  in  the  troop  when  a  man 


748  ^-^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

is  excused  from  any  duty  he  must  remain  in  quarters  during  the  per- 
formance of  it.  Just  tell  him  to  step  outside/'  said  the  lieutenant. 
"Say  I  wish  to  see  him."  And,  picking  up  his  cap  and  gauntlets,  Mr. 
Hearn  strolled  from  the  room  and  went  around  to  the  east  front.  There, 
through  the  open  door-way,  the  conversation  within  became  distinctly 
audible,  and  Captain  Brodie,  of  the  infantry,  who  was  officer  of  the 
day,  returning  from  his  morning  inspection  of  the  sentries  down  about 
the  wood-yards,  hearing  the  loud  talk,  turned  and  came  rapidly  over 
towards  the  store. 

"  AVho  do  you  say  wants  me  ?"  Welsh's  voice  was  heard  to  ask,  as 
he  stood  unsteadily  at  the  bar. 

"  The  lieutenant, — Lieutenant  Hearn,  man :  he's  waiting  for  you 
outside,"  said  the  bar-tender,  in  tones  that  plainly  told  his  anxiety. 

"  He  be  d d !  I  ain't  under  his  orders.     I'm  on  sick-report. 

The  post  surgeon  is  the  only  man  who  can  give  me  orders  to-day,  and 
don't  you  forget  it." 

"  Go  instantly,  Welsh,  or  I'll  call  for  the  guard,"  said  Mr.  Stone. 
"You're  more  than  half  drunk  now. — Don't  give  that  man  another 
drop,  Kirby. — Go  at  once,  Welsh."  And  now  Lieutenant  Hearn's 
erect  figure  appeared  at  the  door-way. 

"  Welsh,  come  here,"  was  all  he  said. 

Slowly  and  with  surly  mien  the  soldier  turned,  glowering  at  his 
superior,  set  down  the  glass,  and  then  slouched  across  the  floor  toward 
the  young  officer,  but  halted  short  of  the  door-way. 

"  Come  out  here,  sir,"  said  the  lieutenant,  sternly,  stepping  a  little 
to  one  side. 

"  What  for  ?     I  ain't  on  duty  to-day,"  was  the  sullen  answer. 

"  No  arguments,  Welsh.  We've  had  too  much  of  that  from  you. 
Go  instantly  to  your  quarters,  and  stay  there.  You  got  excused  from 
drill  on  account  of  illness,  and  you  know  perfectly  well  the  troop  rule. 
You  have  no  business  to  leave  the  barracks,  much  less  to  be  drinking 
here." 

"  The  doctor  didn't  give  me  any  such  orders,"  muttered  Welsh, 
still  hanging  back,  "and  he's  my  commanding  officer  to-day." 

For  all  answer  Mr.  Hearn  sprang  quickly  forward,  grasped  the 
coat-collar  of  the  soldier  in  a  muscular  hand,  and,  without  violence,  but 
with  quick  determination,  marched  him  forth  into  the  sunshine. 

"  By  G — d,  lieutenant,  you'll  pay  for  this  !"  screamed  Welsh.  "  I 
don't  allow  any  man  to  lay  hands  on  me."  And  then,  the  instant  he 
was  released,  he  turned  and  shook  his  clinched  fist  at  his  young  supe- 
rior. Before  another  word  could  be  said,  the  corporal  of  the  guard 
with  a  couple  of  men,  answering  the  signal  of  the  officer  of  the  day, 
came  bounding  to  the  spot. 

"  Take  that  man  to  the  guard-house,"  said  Captain  Brodie,  boiling 
over  with  indignation. — ''  I'll  attend  to  this  case,  Mr.  Hearn.  I  wit- 
nessed the  whole  thing." 

And,  swearing  and  struggling  in  the  grasp  of  the  guard,  Welsh 
was  led  away.  Brodie  saw  him  safely  landed  in  the  guard-room,  then 
turned  back  to  the  store.  The  two  civilians,  who  had  silently  witnessed 
this  scene,  were  exchanging  significant  glances  from  time  to  time,  and 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  749 

some  low-whispered  words.  "  His  name's  Brodie,"  Schonberg  was 
heard  to  say.  "  You've  got  Hearn."  But  when  the  officer  of  the  day- 
reappeared  at  the  door-way  they  turned  their  backs  and  were  apparently 
absorbed  in  the  discussion  of  the  cocktails  which  the  barkeeper  some- 
what grudgingly  set  before  them.  Brodie  took  a  good  look  at  the 
pair,  but,  as  they  carefully  refrained  from  showing  their  faces,  he  re- 
mained but  a  moment  at  the  door-way,  and  then,  with  a  dissatisfied 
shake  of  the  head,  turned  and  walked  over  toward  the  garrison. 

The  trumpet  was  loudly  pealing  orderly  call  a  few  minutes  later  as 
the  men  came  marching  up  from  stables,  their  sabres  clanking  and 
their  spurred  heels  ringing  along  the  road.  The  instant  the  ranks 
were  broken  in  front  of  the  barracks  a  rush  was  made  by  dozens  of 
their  number  for  the  cool  refreshment  of  the  trader's  beer,  and  the  bar 
was  speedily  crowded  with  their  stalwart,  dust-covered  forms  and  ring- 
ing with  their  jovial  voices.  Some  of  them  looked  askance  at  the 
strangers,  but  Schonberg  assumed  an  air  of  joyous  good-fellowship. 

"  Just  in  time,  boys,"  he  called  aloud.  "  Come  right  up  and  have 
it  with  me.  Here,  Billy,  ask  all  these  gentlemen  to  take  a  glass  of 
beer.  I  always  swore  by  the  cavalry,  anyhow :  didn't  I,  Billy  ?  That's 
right,  boys :  fill  'em  all  up ;  and  when  you  get  into  town  come  around 
and  see  ray  place."  And  with  that  he  began  distributing  printed 
business-cards  among  them. 

Some  of  the  men  accepted  the  cards  and  the  proifered  hospitality ; 
others  seemed  to  hang  back.  One  or  two  non-commissioned  officers 
drew  away  to  one  side  by  themselves  and 'signalled  to  the  barkeeper 
that  they  wished  to  be  served  privately  and  not  included  in  the  Israel- 
ite's treat. 

Meantime,  Captain  Brodie  had  gone  in  search  of  the  commanding 
officer.  The  roll  of  the  drum  and  the  peal  of  the  trumpet  sounding 
mess-call  speedily  emptied  the  bar  of  the  blue-bloused  throng.  But 
Mr.  Schonberg  and  his  companion  had  been  drinking  just  enough  to 
be  aggressively  hospitable.  The  next  thing  that  Kirby  knew,  the 
former  was  lurching  around  the  building  with  his  friend  in  tow,  and, 
to  his  consternation,  made  as  straight  as  his  legs  would  permit  for  the 
door  of  the  officers'  club-room.  Three  or  four  of  the  young  gentle- 
men were  still  there,  sipping  "  shandygaff"  and  glancing  through  the 
papers.  These  looked  up  in  evident  surprise  at  the  flushed  features 
and  flashy  attire  of  the  stranger  who  so  confidently  and  jovially  en- 
tered, his  companion  following  closely  in  his  wake. 

"G'mornin',  gen'lem'n,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Schonberg,  holding  forth 
a  pudgy  hand  and  beaming  effusively  upon  Lieutenant  Lee.  "  Wel- 
come to  Fort  Ryan,  gen'lem'n.  Permit  me  to  'ntr'duce  m'self :  Mr. 
Levi  Schonberg ;  'n  thiz's  my  partic-ic-1'r  frien',  Mr.  Abrams, — Mr. 
Abrams,  of  Chicago,  gen'lem'n.  Miss'r  Abrams,  thiz's  my  frien' — 
Lieuten'nt — I — I  didn't  catch  y'r  name,  sir." 

"  My  name  is  Lee,"  said  that  young  gentleman,  shortly,  and  with- 
drawing the  hand  of  which  Mr.  Schonberg  had  possessed  himself. 

"  Lee, — Lieutenant  Lee,  of  the  Eleventh  Cavalry,  Mr.  Abrams. 
Gen'lem'n,  I  knew  all  your  old  frien's  of  the  — th  that  was  here.  We 
were  very  intimate,  all  of  us,  and — excuse  me,  I  didn't  catch  y-your 


750  AN  ARMY  PORTIA. 

name,  sir,"  turning  now  on  Lieutenant  Martin.  "Gen'lem'n,  we're 
just  going  to  open  a  quart  bottle — my  'xpense.  Here,  Billy,  you  son 
of  a  gun,  bring  in  the  champagne-glasses, — the  best  you've  got.  Pora- 
mery  Sec — Pommery  See's  my  wine,  gen'lem'n  ;  but  if  you  prefer  any 
other  s-say  so.     W-w-what  will  you  have,  Mr. — Mr. ?" 

"  I  don't  drink  at  all,  thank  you,"  said  Mr.  Wallace,  briefly. 
"  Come,  Martin,  going  up  to  luncheon  ?"  he  said,  turning  shortly  from 
the  pair  of  invaders. 

*'  Don't  go  yet,  gen'lem'n.  Just  one  glash  champagne, — good- 
fellowship,  you  know.     Hope  I  don't  'feud  ?" 

"  Not  a  particle,  sir ;  not  a  particle,"  said  Martin,  "  Only  you  will 
have  to  excuse  us.  We  can't  drink  and  shoot  too,  you  know.  We've 
got  to  be  on  the  rifle-range  in  half  an  hour. — Coming,  Lee  ?"  Mr.  Lee 
had  risen,  and  was  about  to  move,  when  Mr.  Schonberg  threw  his  arm 
over  the  young  gentleman's  shoulders,  striving  to  detain  him. 

"  Kindly  remove  your  arm,  Mr, — Mr. whatever  your   name 

may  be,"  said  Lee,  his  brows  knitting  and  his  mouth  setting  angrily. 
"I  object  to  drinking  champagne  in  the  morning,  and  to  being  em- 
braced by  strangers  at  any  time." 

But  at  this  moment  Mr.  Stone,  the  post  trader,  came  hurrying  in. 
He  looked  aghast  when  he  caught  sight  of  what  was  going  on.  Spring- 
ing forward,  he  seized  the  Israelite  roughly  by  the  arm. 

"  Come  out  of  this,  Schonberg,"  he  ordered.  "  You  know  per- 
fectly well  you've  got  no  right  whatever  to  come  on  this  reservation, 
much  less  in  this  room." 

"  Pray  do  not  disturb  the  gentlemen,  Mr.  Stone,"  said  Martin. 
"  We  will  gladly  vacate  in  their  favor." 

"Don't  you  attempt  to  put  me  out  of  here.  Stone,"  shouted  the 
Jew.     "  I  know  you.     I  know  what  I'm  about.     You  just  touch  me 

or  let  anybody  else  here  in  this  d d  cowardly  hole,  and  you'll  see 

what'U  happen." 

The  three  officers  had  silently  left  the  room,  and  were  now  quietly 
walking  away  from  the  building;  but  at  the  sound  of  a  scuffle  Lee 
stopped  short. 

"  Here,"  he  said,  "  those  men  are  drunk  and  may  do  harm.  We 
mustn't  leave  Stone  in  the  lurch." 

"What's  the  trouble?"  queried  Mr.  Hearn,  who  had  been  inspect- 
ing the  dinner  of  his  troop  and  now  came  hurrying  down  the  slope 
from  the  barracks.  At  this  very  instant,  too,  Schonberg  came  backing 
out  of  the  club-room  door,  shaking  his  fist  at  Stone,  who  silently  and 
yet  threateningly  followed ;  and  Schonberg's  voice  was  shrill  with 
rage.  Behind  them  both,  his  hands  in  the  pockets  of  his  spring  over- 
coat, saying  not  one  word,  but  glancing  quickly  about  from  man  to 
man,  followed  Mr.  Abrams,  of  Chicago. 

"  Mr.  Hearn,"  said  Stone,  "  you  were  here  before  I  came,  and  you 
know  this  man  :  were  not  the  orders  given  tliat  he  should  never  again 
show  his  face  on  the  reservation,  and  that  he  should  be  put  off  if  he 
came  ?" 

"  Exactly,"  answered  Hearn.  "  And  the  sooner  you  leave  it  now, 
Mr.  Schonberg,  the  better  it  will  be  for  you." 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  751 

"I'm  minding  my  own  business."  (He  called  it  "peeznez.") 
"  You  mind  yours.  Maybe  you  think  I've  forgot  you ;  but  I'll  show 
you.  I've  had  it  in  for  you  ever  since  four  years  ago,  young  feller, 
and  just  you  keep  away  now,  and  don't  you  interfere,  or  you'll  catch  it 
where  you  don't  expect  it." 

"  I'll  give  you  thirty  seconds  to  get  in  that  buggy  and  drive  off, 
Mr.  Schonberg,"  was  Hearn's  reply.  "  Unless  you  want  to  be  hauled 
out  by  the  guard,  you  will  start  at  once.  It  isn't  the  first  time  I've 
found  you  stirring  up  insubordination  here." 

Schonberg  reached  his  buggy,  but  kept  up  his  furious  language. 
His  companion,  still  silent,  scrambled  in,  his  restless  eyes  wandering 
from  face  to  face.  The  thirty  seconds  were  well-nigh  gone  when  the 
Jew,  aided  by  Stone's  supporting  arm,  lurched  into  his  seat  and  picked 
up  the  reins.  Shaking  the  whip  over  Stone's  head,  he  shrieked  so  that 
all  could  hear, — 

"  By  G — d  !  you  may  dink  you've  heard  the  last  of  dis — dis  out- 
rage ;  but  you'll'  see !  you'll  see !  If  you  don't  get  roasted  for  dis, 
dare  ain't  any  newspapers  in  dis  country.  I  got  your  name  down  four 
years  ago,  Mr.  Second  Lieutenant  Hearn,  and  now,  by  G — d !  you'll 
see " 

And  then,  Avith  an  angry  lash  of  his  whip  upon  the  flanks  of  his 
startled  gray,  Schonberg  with  his  companion  drove  rapidly  down  the 
road  past  the  stables.  As  they  turned  the  corner,  Mr.  Abrams  drew 
from  his  overcoat  pocket  a  fat  note-book  and  glanced  back  over  his 
shoulder  with  a  significant  smile. 


An  anxious  group  had  gathered  that  afternoon  over  near  the  hos- 
pital. Corporal  Brent's  symptoms  were  all  indicative  of  concussion  of 
the  brain,  and,  though  the  surgeon  said  there  had  been  no  fracture  of 
the  skull,  he  was  fearful  that  fatal  consequences  might  ensue.  Among 
his  comrades  of  the  infantry  battalion  the  young  soldier  was  by  long 
odds  the  most  popular  and  beloved  man  in  the  ranks,  and  that  he 
should  have  been  "  slugged,"  as  they  expressed  it,  in  the  discharge  of 
his  duty  by  some  scoundrel  of  a  cavalryman,  was  developing  a  very 
ugly  feeling  at  the  post.  Murphy  and  Scanlan  had  been  sent  to 
Coventry  among  their  own  comrades  for  having  lent  a  willing  ear  to 
the  wiles  of  the  tempter  and  so  led  on  to  the  tragedy  that  followed. 
Colonel  Morris  had  ordered  that  Goss  should  be  confined  in  a  cell  apart 
from  the  ordinary  prisoners ;  but  when  confronted  with  the  array  of  a 
dozen  garrison  malefactors,  neither  Murphy  nor  Scanlan  was  able  to  fix 
on  any  one  of  them  as  the  man  who  accosted  them  the  night  of  the 
tragedy  and  gave  them  drink  at  the  southwest  gate.  Goss  was  like 
him  in  size  and  beard,  they  said,  but  that  was  all  that  they  could 
assert.  It  was  enough,  however,  to  prompt  some  of  the  infantrymen 
on  guard  to  scaring  the  prisoner's  life  almost  out  of  him.  He  pite- 
ously  implored  the  officer  of  the  day  at  his  next  visit  not  to  keep  him 
there, — the  "  dough-boys,"  he  said,  had  sworn  they  would  lynch  him  if 
Brent  died, — and  again  and  again  he  declared  himself  innocent  and  the 


752  ^-^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

victim  of  some  conspiracy.  When  Colonel  Morris  was  informed  of 
the  threat,  he  decided  to  send  the  man  to  the  neighboring  town  and 
the  custody  of  the  civil  authorities,  that  he  might  be  tried  by  their 
courts  in  the  event  of  a  fatal  termination  to  the  corporal's  injuries, 
but  waited  until  afternoon  before  issuing  the  orders  in  the  case. 

Major  Kenyon,  who  had  taken  a  deep  interest  in  Brent  for  some 
months  past,  and  who  had  recommended  him  to  study  for  a  commis- 
sion, was  just  coming  from  the  hospital  ward  when  Mr.  Hearn,  passing 
by  the  sad-faced  group  of  soldiers  who  were  chatting  at  the  steps,  came 
quickly  forward  to  meet  the  field-officer : 

"  How  does  he  seem  now,  major  ?  I  had  intended  coming  earlier, 
but  was  detained." 

"  Just  holding  his  own.  I  wouldn't  go  in,  if  I  were  you,  Hearn. 
I  think  footsteps  only  worry  the  doctor  now. — There  is  no  great 
change,  men,"  he  kindly  spoke,  as  the  little  knot  of  soldiers  respect- 
fully saluted  and  looked  inquiringly  at  him.  "  He  has  a  good  fighting 
chance  yet,  with  his  splendid  constitution.  We  can  only  hope  for  the 
best. — Come  on,  Hearn ;  I  want  to  ask  you  something.  What's  this 
I  hear  about  your  having  trouble  with  that  fellow  Schonberg?" 

"  Oh,  I  had  no  especial  trouble,  major :  he  was  out  here  drunk,  I 
should  say,  and  had  got  that  man  Welsh  of  my  troop  drinking,  so  that 
the  fellow  was  insubordinate  again,  and  the  officer  of  the  day  ordered 
him  confined.  Then  Schonberg,  it  seems,  went  into  the  club-room, 
and,  after  he  had  been  treating  the  men  to  beer  in  the  bar,  insisted 
on  treating  to  champagne  and  introducing  himself  to  several  of  the 
officers  who  were  there.  Stone  came  in  and  ordered  him  out,  and 
when  I  haj3pened  along,  hearing  the  noise,  he  appealed  to  me  as  to 
what  the  orders  in  his  case  had  been,  and,  as  I  knew  that  he  had  been 
forbidden  even  to  come  on  the  reservation,  I  told  him  that  if  he  didn't 
go,  and  go  at  once,  I  w^ould  send  some  of  my  men  to  escort  him.  Of 
course  he  was  very  violent  and  abusive,  but  I  paid  no  further  attention 
to  it." 

"  D — n  that  villain !"  said  the  major.  "  He  has  done  more  to 
demoralize  the  men  in  this  post  than  all  the  toughs  and  gamblers  in 
the  community  combined.  Our  fellows  have  got  to  know  him  so 
thoroughly  that  the  best  class  of  them,  at  least,  steer  clear  of  him 
entirely ;  but  there  was  a  time  when  a  great  many  of  them  never  went 
to  town  without  getting  drink  or  money  at  his  place  and  having  to  pay 
very  heavily  for  it  afterwards." 

"Oh,  I  knew  him  well  the  first  winter  I  ever  spent  here,"  said 
Hearn.  "  He  was  clerk  in  the  sutler's  store  then ;  and  it  was  just 
before  I  left  that  he  was  discharged  by  his  employer,  who  is  dead  now. 
Then  he  came  prying  around  the  barracks  at  night,  bringing  liquor  to 
the  men,  and  gamblers  out  with  him  from  town,  playing  in  the  non- 
commissioned officers'  room,  fleecing  them  so  badly  that  they  finally 
complained,  and  then  the  order  was  issued  that  he  shouldn't  be  per- 
mitted on  the  reservation  at  all.  He  had  a  friend  with  him  to-day 
whom  he  was  showing  around  and  whom  he  insisted  on  introducing : 
Martin  says  he  called  him  Abrams,  from  Chicago." 

"  Abrams !     I  don't  know  anything  about  him,  but  the  mere  fact 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  753 

of  his  being  here  with  Schonberg  is  enough  to  make  me  look  upon  him 
with  suspicion.  They  were  having  a  confidential  talk  with  your  man 
Welsh,  I'm  told.  Now,  what  do  they  know  of  him  ?  where  have  they 
met  him  before?" 

"  I  can't  say,  major :  he  was  in  the  captain's  *  household  brigade/ 
and  it  is  only  recently  that  I  have  had  anything  to  do  with  him.  Of 
course  he  has  been  in  and  out  of  town  a  dozen  times  the  past  month, 
so  he  never  lacked  opportunity." 

"  The  doctor  tells  me  you  had  to  haul  him  out  of  the  bar-room  by 
the  coat-collar,  and  that  he  threatened  and  abused  you.  Take  my 
advice,  Hearn ;  don't  ever  touch  a  soldier,  no  matter  how  wrong  he 
may  be.  You  should  have  called  for  a  file  of  the  guard  if  he  would 
not  obey." 

"  I  had  no  authority  over  the  guard,  major,  and  I  had  over  Welsh. 
I  simply  stepped  inside,  collared  him,  and  marched  him  out  into  the 
sunshine;  then  Captain  Brodie  came Ah  !  here's  the  colonel." 

They  had  turned  into  the  quadrangle  at  the  moment,  and  came  face 
to  face  with  the  post  commander,  who,  followed  by  his  orderly,  was 
crossing  the  green  parade,  swinging  his  cane  in  the  nervous  and  ener- 
getic way  peculiar  to  him. 

"Mr.  Hearn,"  he  said,  in  his  quick,  almost  gruflf  manner,  "the 
officer  of  the  day  tells  me  he  has  confined  Welsh,  of  your  troop,  for 
insubordination  and  for  threatening  you,  and  that  he  had  been  at  the 
store  with  some  men  from  town  who  were  forbidden  the  reservation : 
you  know  the  men,  I'm  told." 

"  Only  one  of  them,  sir.  I  knew  that  Jew,  Schonberg,  the  first 
winter  I  was  stationed  here." 

"  Well,  Captain  Brodie  says  he  also  used  threatening  language  to- 
wards you.  What  does  it  mean?  What  could  he  have  to  threaten 
you  with?" 

"  Nothing,  sir,"  answered  Hearn,  promptly.  "  At  least,"  and  now 
the  hot  blood  seemed  bounding  to  his  temples, — "  at  least  nothing  that  I 
have  any  fear  of.  He  is  a  blackguard,  and  I  was  utterly  inexperienced 
when  I  came  here,  so  that  he  got  me  into  some  embarrassment  in  money- 
matters  at  the  time.  It  was  settled  long  ago,  and  I  have  no  idea  what 
he  thinks  he  can  trump  up  now.  He  used  to  be  clerk  and  attendant  at 
the  store  here  when  old  Braine " 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know,"  said  the  colonel,  impatiently.  "  It  is  odd  that 
you  young  gentlemen  will  put  yourselves  in  the  hands  of  such  people. 
Now,  that  fellow  has  been  kept  off  the  reservation  all  these  years,  yet 
here  he  conies  again  because  he  seems  to  think  he  has  a  hold  on  you, 
and  dares  to  disobey  orders  as  a  consequence." 

"  I  protest,  colonel,"  said  Hearn,  flushing  hotly,  "  I  am  in  no  wise 
responsible  for  his  actions.  You  can  have  the  details  of  the  trouble  he 
gave  me  at  any  time,  and  I  can  show  you  the  papers  that  long  since 
ended  the  matter.  He  has  no  hold  on  me,  sir,  whatever."  And  the 
young  officer  stood  before  his  commander  looking  both  grieved  and 
indignant  at  the  imputation  conveyed  in  the  latter's  words. 

"  Well,  well,  Mr.  Hearn,  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  he  has  any 
ground,  only  you  young  gentlemen  cannot  be  too  careful  about  your 

Vol.  XLVI.— 49 


754  ^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

associates.     Contact  with  such  canaille  as  this  must  defile  you  just  as 
much  as  pitch. — Now,  Major  Kenyon,  how  is  Corporal  Brent?" 

Thus  having  the  last  word,  and  having  conveyed  to  the  young  sub- 
altern a  distinct  sense  of  rebuke,  Colonel  Morris  abruptly  intimated  his 
desire  that  nothing  further  should  be  said  upon  the  subject.  So  long 
as  he  chose  to  transfer  his  attention  to  Major  Kenyon  the  commander 
could,  of  course,  prevent  further  remonstrance  ;  but  as  Mr.  Hearn  stood 
there  in  evident  readiness  to  resume  his  own  defence,  and  as  the  colonel 
knew  very  well  that  he  had  hardly  been  fair  to  hira,  since  Hearu's 
character  had  been  most  exemplary  ever  since  his  joining  the  regiment, 
his  better  nature  told  him  that  he  ought  in  further  words  to  let  the 
young  fellow  down  easily,  as  the  army  expression  goes.  For  reasons 
of  his  ovvn,  Colonel  Morris  did  not  wish  to  unbend,  however,  in  pres- 
ence of  the  infantry  major,  his  second  in  command.  No  sooner  had 
he  finished  his  inquiries  than  he  turned  to  Mr.  Hearn  again  : 

"I  do  not  mean  to  say,  sir,  that  any  reason  exists  for  that  man's 
threats,  only  that  I  consider  it  most  unfortunate  that  you  or  any  young 
officer  should  ever  have  put  himself  in  the  power  of  that  class  of 
people." 

Hearn  would  have  retorted,  but  for  a  moment  he  could  not  find 
words  at  once  respectful  and  convincing.  The  colonel,  having  delivered 
this  final  volley  from  his  entire  line,  now  promptly  retired  before  the 
other  side  could  rally,  and,  as  though  covered  by  the  smoke  of  his  own 
fire,  tramped  away  across  the  parade,  leaving  the  two  officers  gazing 
silently  after  him.  The  orderly,  with  hand  to  cap-visor,  sprang  briskly 
past  the  pair  and  stalked  away  in  the  wake  of  his  cane-twirling  com- 
mander. 

At  last  Kenyon  spoke  :  "  Come,  Hearn,  when  you're  as  old  as  I  am 
you'll  not  fret  yourself  over  glittering  generalities  like  that.  Every 
colonel,  I  suppose,  is  full  of  wise  saws  and  modern  instances  and  must 
shoot  'em  off  occasionally.  I'll  be  just  as  full,  no  doubt,  if  I  live  to 
be  a  colonel.  It  has  taken  me  thirty  years'  soldiering  to  get  out  of 
company  duty,  and  the  Lord  only  knows  how  long  it  will  be  before  I 
can  swap  this  gold  leaf  for  the  silver.  Come  along,  man ;  I'm  going 
to  Lane's  a  moment  to  ask  the  ladies  to  drive  to  town  this  evening,  and 
there's  nothing  like  the  women-folk  to  help  one  out  of  the  grumps. 
There  they  are  on  the  piazza  now, — the  women,  not  the  grumps.  And, 
by  the  powers !  yonder  comes  young  Lee  in  his  riding-boots  to  ask 
Miss  Marshall  to  try  a  canter." 

But  Hearn  shook  his  head  :  "  I  can't  go  now  ;  I'm  all  upset  by  this 
thing,  major.  By  heaven  I  isn't  it  enough  to  make  a  man  swear,  that  a 
low  cad  like  that  can  come  into  his  daily  life  and  poison  the  ears  of  his 
friends  and  associates  with  slander  and  innuendo,  and  that  I  have  to 
listen  in  silence  to  such  rebuke  as  that  the  colonel  gave  me?" 

"Well,  that's  what  you  get  for  being  in  the  army,  my  boy.  Three 
days  ago  you  were  taking  issue  with  me  at  Lane's  because  I  said  if  I 
had  my  life  to  live  over  again  the  army  was  the  very  last  profession 
I'd  seek  in  this  country,  and  you  thought  you  loved  it.  Here's  Lane, 
now,"  he  continued,  as  the  gray-eyed  captain  strolled  up  and  laid  his 
hand  kindly  on  the  young  officer's  shoulder. 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  755 

"  I'm  trying  to  pull  Hearn  out  of  the  grunips,  Lane.  Haul  him 
along  with  us,  or  he'll  be  doing  something  desperate.  You  remember 
how  enthusiastic  he  was  three  days  ago, — loved  his  profession,  would 
rather  be  a  soldier  than  a  railway  magnate,  wouldn't  swap  his  com- 
mission for  a  million  in  the  four-per-cents.    Fetch  him  along." 

And  between  them,  half  laughing,  half  sympathetic,  the  two  officers 
convoyed  their  junior  towards  the  shaded  veranda  where  were  seated 
Mrs.  Lane,  Miss  Marshall,  and  other  ladies  busy  with  their  needlework 
and  probable  gossip.  Miss  Wharton  was  of  the  party,  and  there  were 
two  or  three  callers.  They  had  noted  the  colonel's  soldierly  figure  as 
he  tramped  across  the  parade,  and  were  quick  to  see  the  two  officers 
coming  along  the  gravel  walk.  Mrs.  Lane  half  rose,  and,  smiling 
brightly,  bade  them  enter.  Forage-caps  were  raised  in  acknowledg- 
ment and  salutations  exchanged,  but  the  trio  hung  outside.  The  major 
by  this  time  was  talking  veliemently.  Lane  was  looking  grave  and 
anxious.  The  same  perplexed  expression  was  on  his  face  that  had  been 
noted  at  the  breakfast-table  when  reading  that  letter  just  before  Miss 
Marshall's  entrance  the  day  before.     Hearn's  face  was  clouded. 

"  How  can  they  encourage  Major  Kenyon  to  be  dilating  on  his  pet 
hobby !"  petulantly  exclaimed  Mrs.  Graves.  "  He  is  the  most  pessi- 
mistic, cynical,  prosy  old  crank  in  the  whole  service,  and  will  bore  them 
to  death.  There,  now  he's  backed  them  up  against  the  fence,  and  there 
is  no  hope  for  them. — Do  come  in  here  out  of  the  hot  sunshine,  Major 
Kenyon  :  you  can  harangue  all  you  like  here  just  as  well."  But  Ken- 
yon paid  no  attention  to  his  fair  comrade  of  the  infantry.  For  years 
the  women  of  the  — th  Foot  had  made  common  cause  against  him, 
despite  the  fact  that  he  was  one  of  their  most  devoted  admirers.  When 
Mrs.  Lane  again  called  to  them  to  come  in  and  sit  on  the  veranda, 
however,  the  captain  calmly  took  his  two  friends  by  the  elbows  and 
steered  them  through  the  gate.  Another  moment,  and  the  ladies  were 
settling  back  into  their  seats,  and  the  major  had  the  floor. 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Lane,  I  am  a  crank,  as  my  good  friend  Mrs.  Graves 
has  doubtless  told  you :  I  have  reason  to  be,  and  the  crank's  wound  up 
to-day.     Your  husband  and  Hearn  here  have  been  combating  my  views 

about  the  desirability  of  the  army  as  a  vocation,  and I  crave  your 

pardon.  Miss  Marshall,  for  'talking  shop.'  " 

"  I'm  deeply  interested.  Major  Kenyon,"  responded  that  young  lady. 
"  Go  on,  I  beg  of  you." 

"  Well,  my  views  are  founded  on  long  experience,  and  not  the  very 
pleasantest.  I  say — and  I  say  it  after  years  of  reflection — that  the 
more  a  man  may  love  his  profession,  the  better  a  soldier  he  is,  the  more 
jealous  of  the  honor  and  reputation  of  his  cloth,  the  less  can  he  afford 
to  take  a  position  in  the  army  of  the  United  States.  Why  ?  Why,  be- 
cause the  great  mass  of  the  people  have  no  conception  whatever  of  the 
duties  that  devolve  upon  us,  of  the  life  we  lead,  of  the  trials  we  en- 
counter. In  time  of  peace  they  think  they  have  no  use  whatever  for  an 
army,  and  declare  that  we  do  nothing  but  loaf  and  drink  and  gamble. 
They  are  taught  to  think  so  by  the  press  of  our  great  cities,  and,  never 
having  a  chance  to  see  the  truth  for  themselves,  they  accept  the  views 
of  their  journalists,  who  really  know  no  more  about  it  than  they  do, 


756  ^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

but  do  not  hesitate  to  announce  as  fact  what  exists  only  in  their  im- 
agination. Ever  since  the  war  these  attacks  in  the  papers  have  gradu- 
ally increased  from  year  to  year.  Now,  my  home  is  in  Chicago,  and, 
naturally,  I  read  the  Chicago  papers.  I  was  five  years  tramping,  scout- 
ing, skirmishing  all  through  Arizona  and  Wyoming  without  ever  seeing 
the  inside  of  a  city  or  even  of  a  railway-car.  We  lived  on  hard  tack 
and  bacon  and  what  we  could  pick  up  when  we  couldn't  get  them.  We 
lost  many  a  good  soldier  in  Indian  battle  during  that  time,  and  at  last 
I  got  a  wound  that  laid  me  up  and  sent  me  home.  I  hadn't  seen  the 
place  in  seven  years.  My  boyhood  had  been  spent  there.  Dozens  of 
my  relatives  and  old  school-mates  lived  there,  and  I  looked  forward 
with  pleasure  to  the  rest  and  joy  I  should  have  at  the  old  firesides.  I 
didn't  suppose  that  people  really  believed  all  the  outrageous  flings  the 
Times  and  the  News  and  the  Sun  and  the  Herald,  let  alone  the  Trades- 
Union  Gazette  and  the  Arbeiter  Zeitung,  had  indulged  in  at  the  expense 
of  the  army.  But  I  had  to  wear  my  uniform  for  three  or  four  days 
about  the  old  home,  and  not  only  street-boys  but  grown  men  respectably 
dressed  jeered  and  hooted  at  the  dress  that  for  years  in  the  rebel  South 
and  all  over  the  frontier  had  never  been  treated  with  insult.  Old 
school-mates  patronizingly  asked  me  over  their  card-tables  at  the  clubs, 
what  on  earth  I  could  find  to  do  with  myself  in  the  army,  and  why  I 
didn't  quit  it  and  come  in  here  and  try  to  be  something.  You  know 
perfectly  well.  Lane,  that  when  you  were  recruiting  in  Cincinnati  you 
had  just  such  questions  put  to  you,  and  you  had  been  through  one  cam- 
paign after  another  for  years.  The  general  manager  of  the  Midland 
Pacific,  every  mile  of  whose  road  through  the  Sioux  country  I  and  my 
men  had  helped  to  build  by  standing  off  the  Indians  day  after  day  and 
having  many  a  sharp  fight  doing  it, — this  general  manager,  I  say,  met 
me  at  the  Union  League  and  asked  me  how  I  had  '  managed  to  kill  time 
on  the  frontier,'  and  remarked  that  it  must  be  a  very  demoralizing  life. 
He  was  out  next  day  in  a  circular  cutting  down  the  wages  of  some  twenty 
thousand  employees  ten  per  cent.,  but  thought  the  rank  and  file  of  the 
army  were  treated  rather  like  dogs  by  their  superiors.  A  man,  he  said, 
must  be  at  the  lowest  ebb  of  self-respect  to  enlist  in  the  array  ;  as  though 
every  one  of  his  army  of  twenty  thousand  hard-working,  hard-slaving 
men  was  not  infinitely  more  at  the  mercy  of  a  single  official  than  could 
ever  happen  in  the  army  of  the  United  States.  My  own  people,  by  Jove ! 
were  so  impressed  by  what  they  had  been  reading  for  years  in  the  papers 
of  army  life  and  array  officers  that  they  were  perpetually  urging  me  to 
quit  the  service  and  come  in  and  begin  life  over  again  at  forty-five, — 
clerking  or  something.  Why,  only  ten  years  before,  their  homes  had 
been  rescued  from  the  mob,  after  police  and  militia  had  been  whipped 
to  the  winds,  only  by  the  prompt  rush  of  the  regulars  from  the  frontier. 
Oh,  they  lionized  the  'shoulder-strapped  autocracy'  then,  and  for  just 
about  one  week  it  wasn't  fashionable  for  a  decent  paper  to  lampoon 
thera ;  but  the  moment  the  danger  was  over  their  gratitude  fled  with 
their  anxiety.  1  tell  you,  the  papers  that  are  sold  for  two  and  three 
cents  in  our  big  cities  have  to  pander  to  the  prejudices  of  the  masses  to 
keep  alive,  and  there  is  no  surer  way  of  tickling  the  palates  of  the 
populace  than  by  ridiculing  or  abusing  the  army  officers,  and  in  lending 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  757 

themselves  to  this  the  editors,  of  course,  influence  the  judgment  of 
people  of  a  much  better  class, — the  great  middle  class,  so  to  speak,  of 
the  whole  nation." 

"  It  isn't  at  all  so  where  I  come  from,"  interposed  Hearn,  promptly. 
"  At  home  all  my  kinsfolk  are  proud  of  ray  being  in  the  army." 

"  Ah !  you're  a  Southerner,  Mr.  Hearn,  and  your  people  are  all 
Americans.  All  through  the  North,  however,  we  have  an  immense 
foreign  population  that  has  fled  from  the  Old  World  to  escape  military 
duty.  They  hate  the  very  sight  of  a  soldier.  Three-fourths  of  the 
people  of  some  of  our  big  cities  are  of  foreign  birth  or  parentage.  The 
papers  seek  their  patronage,  and  in  truckling  to  them  they  prejudice 
northern  Americans  against  their  own  friends  and  relatives  who  have 
been  idiots  enough  to  become  their  defenders.  It  was  bad  enough  be- 
fore the  war,  God  knows,  but  it's  worse  now.  People  wonder  how  it 
was  that  it  took  the  North  with  three  million  soldiers  so  long  to  subdue 
the  South  with  less  than  a  fourth  that  number.  Now  I  see  nothing  to 
wonder  at  whatever.  The  Soutli  has  always  respected  the  profession 
of  arras ;  the  North  has  always  derided  it.  Lee  with  sixty  thousand 
Americans  at  his  back,  and  only  sixty  thousand,  knocked  sixty  thousand 
out  of  Grant's  overwhelming  force  between  the  Rapidan  and  the  James. 
Lee's  sixty  thousand  had  tiie  love  of  every  Southern  heart  to  sustain 
them.  How  many  of  the  North,  think  you,  had  no  personal  interest 
in  that  struggle?  Hovv  raany  thousands  of  the  North  to-day  care 
nothing  whatever  for  that  flag," — and  the  major  pointed  to  the  standard 
floating  over  the  garrison, — "  and  only  ask  to  be  let  alone  to  make 
money  their  own  way  ?  God  knows,  I'm  as  loyal  a  Union  man  as  ever 
lived,  but  I  don't  like  to  think  of  the  new  generation  that  has  sprung 
up  in  this  country:  all  soldiers  in  the  South;  all — what?  in  the 
North." 

And  old  Kenyon,  flushed,  almost  breathless,  paused  and  mopped 
his  brow  with  a  silk  handkerchief  as  red  as  his  face. 

There  was  silence  a  moment.  Captain  Lane's  kindly  features  wore 
an  expression  half  grave,  half  quizzical.  Hearn  had  edged  around 
nearer  where  Miss  Marshall  was  sitting,  and  that  young  lady  had 
dropped  her  dainty  embroidery  in  her  lap  and  was  listening  atten- 
tively. Something  in  the  gravity  of  her  demeanor  gave  Kenyon  en- 
couragement. 

"  Now,  you.  Miss  Marshall,  are  accustomed  to  social  circles  in  the 
North.  Tell  me  frankly,  now,  did  you  ever  hear  men  prominent  in 
civil  life  express  any  other  opinion  of  the  profession  of  an  army  officer 
than  that  it  was  rather  a  useless,  dawdling,  and  unworthy  occupation  ?" 

"In  peace  times,  I  presume  you  mean,  major?" 

"  In  peace  times,  certainly ;  though  the  necessity  for  its  existence 
then  is  as  great.  You  recollect  what  Washington  said  :  '  In  time  of 
peace  prepare  for  war.' " 

"  I  confess  that  men  who  lead  narrow  lives  in  business  or  professions 
and  never  get  beyond  the  groove  are  apt  to  say  something  of  what  you 
suggest,  major.  But  men  who  think  and  travel,  especially  those  who 
have  visited  our  frontier,  corae  back  with  feelings  of  much  admiration 
for  the  army,  officers  and  men." 


758  ^-^  ARMF  PORTIA. 

"  Then  I'll  rest  my  case  with  the  men  who  think  and  travel/'  said 
Hearn,  laughing  brightly.  "  Come,  you  old  cynic,  don't  make  me 
believe  I  have  no  friends  outside  my  profession,  when  it  sometimes 
seems  as  though  I  hardly  had  one  in  it." 

"Now,  there  you  go,  Hearn,"  interrupted  Kenyon.  "That's  just 
exactly  where  you're  wrong.  You  would  trust  to  the  few  travelled 
and  educated  men ;  but  what  are  they  among  the  mass  of  voters,  who 
know  nothing  of  the  array  but  what  they  read  in  the  papers?  Do 
you  ever  see  anything  good  of  an  army  officer  in  any  paper  until  he's 
dead  ?  Never,  unless  it's  something  put  in  by  a  '  newspaper  soldier ;' 
and  God  save  me  from  more  of  them.  What  could  your  thinkers  and 
travellers  do,  even  if  they  would  condescend  to  bestir  themselves  in 
our  behalf, — which  they  don't, — as  against  the  masses  and  the  press? 
No  paper  in  the  land  is  so  low  but  what  it  can  hurt  and  sting  you." 

"  How?  I  should  like  to  know." 

"How?  Simply  by  printing  any  low  scandal  at  your  expense; 
and  no  matter  what  your  record  or  your  character  may  have  been,  no 
matter  how  damnable  a  lie  may  be  asserted  of  you,  the  mass  of  the 
people  will  read  and  believe,  and  your  natural  j)rotectors — the  generals 
and  the  War  Department — will  call  upon  you  to  defend  yourself  against 
even  anonymous  assault." 

"  You  do  not  mean  that,  major,  do  you  ?"  asked  Miss  Marshall. 

"  I  do,  emphatically.  I  have  seen  officers  time  and  again  com- 
pelled to  report  to  division  or  department  head-quarters  that  they  were 
innocent  of  allegations  made  by  nameless  scribblers  in  the  daily  press. 
I  have  seen  the  most  abstemious  men  in  the  army  heralded  as  drunk 
on  duty  by  a  sheet  that  withheld  the  name  of  its  informant.  But  all 
the  same  the  officers  were  called  to  account.  When  we  were  sent  to 
aid  the  marshals  in  breaking  up  the  whiskey-distilleries  in  Brooklyn ; 
when  the  first  colored  cadets  were  sent  to  W  est  Point ;  when  Chicago 
was  burned  and  we  had  to  shoot  some  prowling  robbers  to  rid  the 
ruined  city  of  the  gang  that  flocked  there ;  when  we  were  hurried  in 
again  in  '77,  and  all  the  great  cities  of  the  North  were  practically  at 
the  mercy  of  the  mob ; — at  every  one  of  those  times,  and  heaven  only 
knows  how  many  times  between,  the  press  made  scandalous  asser- 
tions by  name  about  one  officer  or  another.  In  most  cases  there  was 
no  truth  whatever  in  what  was  said  ;  in  every  case,  however,  the  officer 
was  compelled  by  his  superiors  to  establish  his  innocence.  By  heaven  ! 
I'll  never  forget  our  experience  in  '77.  W^e  were  ordered  to  lose  not 
an  instant  in  reaching  Chicago.  The  strikers  had  side-tracked  the 
Ninth  on  one  road  and  blocked  the  cavalry  on  another  line,  and  when 
we  stopped  for  water  the  railway-men  attempted  to  leave  us  there.  I 
put  Lieutenant  Nairn  with  a  small  guard  at  the  engine  and  kept  the 
strikers  off,  using  no  force,  saying  not  a  word,  making  no  reply  to  jeers 
and  insult;  but  the  leading  paper  came  out  next  day  and  denounced 
Nairn  and  me  as  being  armed  ruffians,  declared  we  were  both  reeling 
drunk,  and  gave  most  outrageous  details  of  things  that  never  hap- 
pened. Of  course,  as  army  officers  were  the  targets  of  this  abuse,  the 
article  was  copied  in  Eastern  papers.  Nairn  was  a  man  who  never 
drank  a  drop ;  had  a  magnificent  war  record  ;  was  a  general  officer  of 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  759 

volunteers,  and  a  gentleman  honored  throughout  the  whole  service. 
All  the  same  he  and  I  were  compelled  to  submit  written  denials  to  de- 
partment head-quarters,  and  all  the  satisfaction  we  ever  got  was  that 
the  editor  said  his  reporter  had  perhaps  been  unduly  influenced  by  the 
prejudiced  statements  of  the  strikers.  Why  hadn't  this  occurred  to 
him  in  the  first  place?  Why  didn't  he  hnow  that  these  men,  furious 
at  being  thwarted,  would  say  anything  to  revenge  themselves  after  we 
had  gone  on  our  way?  He  did;  but  because  just  such  sensational 
articles  would  make  his  paper  sell  among  the  masses,  .and  because  he 
knew  that  where  the  army  officer  had  one  friend  he  had  a  score  of 
enemies,  that  was  enough  for  him.  Now,  that,  and  a  host  of  similar 
experiences,  is  why  I  say  that  no  son  of  mine  shall  ever  take  up  so 
thankless  a  profession.  Of  course  if  the  country  were  in  danger,  the 
flag  assailed,  he  would  fight  as  I  would.  As  for  me,  I'm  too  old  a 
dog  to  learn  new  tricks,  and  having  lived  my  life  in  the  service  I  must 
die  in  it."  And  again  the  major  paused  for  breath.  "  You  think  I'm 
an  extremist,  don't  you.  Lane  ?"  he  finally  asked. 

"Perhaps  so,  major,  although  I  admit  that  the  press  has  been  most 
unjust ;  but  I  think  we  have  more  friends  among  the  people  than  you 
give  us  credit  for." 

"  Not  one  bit  of  it !  You  think  the  press  knows  better  now  and 
wouldn't  do  it  all  over  again.  That's  what  Hearn  here  would  say. 
Now,  you  mark  my  words,  gentlemen,  so  few  are  our  friends  in  this 
country, — that  is,  in  the  North  at  least, — either  in  the  press  or  the 
public,  that  any  story  at  the  expense  of  an  army  officer  would  be 
eagerly  published  by  almost  any  paper  in  the  land,  and  used  as  a  text 
by  hundreds  of  editors  all  over  the  nation  to  warrant  a  vicious  stab  at 
our  whole  array,  and  the  people  far  and  wide  would  eagerly  read,  and 
even  those  who  declared  they  didn't  believe  it  would  be  influenced.". 

"  I  can't  think  our  people  are  such  fools  as  to  believe  yarns  that 
are  evidently  manufactured  to  malign,"  said  Hearn,  stoutly.  "  Every- 
body ought  to  know  that  it  is  from  deserters,  or  dishonorably  discharged 
men,  or  low  camp-followers,  that  the  reporters  get  their  scandals." 

"  Ought  to  know  !  yes,  I  admit  it.  I  have  no  doubt  that  the  man- 
aging editors  who  })ublisli  the  things  do  know ;  but  the  people  don't. 
And  now  what  has  been  your  own  exj^erience,  Hearn?  How  can  you 
blame  the  people  for  believing  what  they  read  in  the  papers,  when  not 
an  hour  ago  your  own  colonel,  who  knows  you  well,  virtually  rebuked 
you  because  of  the  vicious  ravings  of  as  unprincipled  a  cad  as  there  is 
in  all  Kansas  ?" 

And  Georgia  Marshall,  looking  up  in  surprise,  saw  the  quick  flush 
that  leaped  to  the  young  soldier's  face. 

VI. 

"Fred,  what  did  Major  Kenyon  mean  by  his  reference  to  Mr. 
Hearn  and  some  story  about  him  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Lane  that  evening,  as 
the  captain  was  locking  up  after  their  guests  had  departed.  Miss 
Marshall,  who  was  glancing  over  a  photograph-album,  closed  it  and 
rose  as  though  to  leave  the  parlor. 


760  ^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

"  No,  dou't  go,"  said  Captain  Lane,  promptly.  "  I  was  sorry  that 
Kenyon  made  any  reference  to  the  matter,  but,  since  lie  did,  I  want  you 
both — indeed,  I  think  Hearn  told  me  because  he  wanted  you  both — to 
know  all  about  the  affair.  He  had  never  mentioned  it  to  me,  nor  to 
any  one,  I  fancy,  before,  because  there  was  no  need.  It  was  all  settled 
some  time  ago,  but  of  course  he  felt  sensitive  about  it.  He  was  a 
green  young  lieutenant  when  he  joined  here  six  years  ago.  This  Jew, 
Schonberg,  was  clerk  at  the  sutler's.  The  officers  dealt  very  largely 
with  him  then, .for  town  was  not  as  accessible  as  it  is  now.  The  former 
post  trader  was  a  jovial,  kindly  sort  of  fellow,  who  was  much  liked  by 
everybody,  but  he  left  his  books  and  his  business  in  the  hands  of  Schon- 
berg.  I  have  often  heard  how  open-handed  he  was  with  his  money, 
and  how  officers,  and  men  too,  never  had  to  go  to  any  banker  or  scalper 
if  they  needed  money  for  an  emergency.  Anything  a  friend  of  his 
wanted  was  at  his  service.  Hearn  began  as  a  good  many  boys  of  his 
genial  temperament  are  apt  to  do  at  a  big  and  expensive  post, — got  in 
debt,  for  everybody  wants  to  give  credit  to  young  officers  just  starting, 
and  then  the  bills  come  in  all  at  one  swoop  afterwards.  *  Old  Cheery,' 
as  they  used  to  call  Braine,  saw  Hearn's  trouble,  and  insisted  on  lend- 
ing him  money  out  of  his  own  pocket.  It  wasn't  a  store  matter  at  all ; 
it  wasn't  entered  on  Hearn's  account.  He  paid  it  back  in  instalments 
to  the  old  man  himself,  or  was  doing  it  when  he  received  his  promotion 
and  had  to  make  the  long  and  expensive  journey  to  Arizona.  Except 
cadets  when  first  joining,  officers  are  not  paid  advance  mileage ;  they 
must  raise  the  money  as  best  they  can,  and  it  is  mighty  hard  on  a 
young  lieutenant.  *  Old  Cheery,'  of  course,  advanced  Hearn  another 
two  hundred  dollars.  The  first  was  paid,  all  but  fifty  of  it,  and  he 
told  the  boy  when  he  left  that  he  had  taken  a  big  liking  to  him,  and 
that  he  could  just  return  that  at  his  convenience ;  but  Hearn  never  lost 
a  day  after  getting  to  his  new  post  and  obtaining  his  mileage,  but 
bought  a  draft  for  two  hundred  dollars  and  sent  it  to  the  old  man  at 
once,  and  said  in  his  letter  that  he  would  remit  the  balance  of  the 
account  and  his  store  bill  just  as  soon  as  possible.  '  Old  Cheery'  was  a 
man  who  never  wrote  letters,  but  Hearn  got  a  line  from  his  wife,  say- 
ing that  Mr.  Braine  had  received  his  pleasant  letter  with  its  enclosure 
and  sent  his  best  wishes.  A  few  months  afterwards  the  old  man  sud- 
denly died ;  the  widow  moved  to  town ;  a  new  trader  came  and  took 
the  store ;  and  when  Hearn  sent  his  next  remittance  of  fifty  dollars  to 
the  widow  he  was  surprised  in  the  course  of  a  few  months  afterwards 
to  receive  what  purported  to  be  a  statement  of  his  account  with  the 
estate  of  Thomas  Braine,  deceased, — a  store-bill  amounting  to  over  a 
hundred  dollars,  and  no  less  than  five  hundred  dollars  in  borrowed 
money.  He  wrote  instantly  to  a  friend  at  Fort  Ryan  to  see  the  widow 
and  have  things  straightened  out.  He  protested  that  his  store-bill 
could  not  be  more  than  forty  or  fifty  dollars ;  that  old  Braine  had  lent 
him  two  hundred  dollars  at  one  time,  which  he  had  paid  back  to  him 
all  but  fifty,  and  two  hundred  more  when  he  went  to  Arizona,  which 
he  had  instantly  repaid,  so  that  the  total  amount  of  his  indebtedness 
could  not  exceed  one  hundred  dollars.  But  the  widow  said  she  didn't 
know  anything  about  it.     Mr.  Schonberg  had  kindly  taken  charge  of 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  761 

all  her  affairs,  and  he  had  the  books  and  everything  and  all  the  corre- 
spondence and  knew  all  about  it.  Hearn,  of  course,  refused  to  pay  any- 
thing but  the  hundred  dollars.  Then  they  threatened  him  with  legal 
proceedings,  and  next  they  importuned  him  through  the  War  Depart- 
ment, which,  just  as  old  Kenyon  says,  believed  the  blackguard  and 
called  on  Hearn  for  an  explanation.  It  nearly  drove  the  young  fellow 
mad.  He  was  proud  and  sensitive.  He  couldn't  bear  to  think  of  the 
publicity  and  scandal.  He  had  never  given  Braine  any  receipt  for  the 
money  obtained  from  him ;  never  had  asked  any  for  the  money  repaid. 
He  was  too  honorable  to  deny  the  fact  of  liaving  borrowed  the  money, 
yet  had  nothing  to  show,  the  old  man  being  dead,  for  the  money  that 
he  had  returned.  I  had  heard  something  of  his  trouble,  but  was 
ordered  East  on  recruiting  service  just  then,  and  began  to  get  into 
troubles  of  my  own,  for  it  was  there  I  met  this  young  woman."  And 
the  captain,  with  eyes  that  belied  his  words,  turned  fondly  to  his  wife. 
"  The  next  thing  I  heard  of  Hearn,  the  matter  had  all  been  most  for- 
tunately settled, — thanks  to  one  of  our  old  captains,  who,  it  seems,  had 
known  both  Schonberg  and  the  widow  Braine.  He  took  the  matter  up, 
and  the  Jew  was  glad  to  drop  it.  Even  Hearn  does  not  know  what 
hold  he  had  on  them,  but  it  was  settled  then  and  there.  Hearn  paid 
a  hundred  dollars,  and  Sch5nberg,  I  am  told,  had  to  pay  the  lawyer 
whom  he  had  employed.  I  often  think,  though,  how  hard  would 
have  been  the  young  fellow's  fate  if  there  had  been  no  one  to  come  to 
the  rescue.  There  isn't  a  better  soldier  or  braver  officer  in  the  Eleventh 
to-day  than  Hearn,  and  he  is  just  as  steady  as  a  ro(!k ;  but  soldiers  as 
good  as  he  have  been  driven  out  of  the  army  for  lack  of  some  such 
friend  as  came  to  him  in  his  extremity." 

"  You  would  have  helped  him,  Fred  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Lane,  fondly, 
crossing  over  to  the  captain  and  stroking  the  grizzled  stubble  about  his 
brows  as  though  it  were  the  loveliest  hair  in  the  world.  Lane  possessed 
himself  of  the  soft  white  hand  and  threw  his  arm  about  her  shapely 
waist. 

"  I  would  certainly,  had  I  known,  but  nine  out  of  ten  do  not  happen 
to  be  able  to  help,  even  when  our  inclinations  would  lead.  And,  then, 
however  much  we  believed  in  Hearn's  story  and  Schonberg's  rascality, 
who  could  prove  it  ?" 

"  Who  did  prove  it?"  asked  Miss  Marshall,  after  a  pause. 

"Well,  no  one,  that  I  know  of.  All  we  know  is. that  Schonberg 
was  glad  to  drop  the  matter  three  years  ago  when  Captain  Rawlins  first 
tackled  the  case,  Hearn  says  he  has  never  alluded  to  it  from  that  time 
to  this  until  the  fellow's  language  to-day  ;  but  that  was  only  some  vague 
drunken  threat." 

"  But  if,  on  the  contrary,  it  should  prove  that  he  meant  to  make 
more  trouble  for  Mr.  Hearn,"  asked  Miss  Marshall,  "  is  Captain 
Rawlins  here?" 

"By  Jove!"  exclaimed  the  captain,  starting  suddenly  to  his  feet, 
his  face  growing  as  suddenly  grave  and  sad,  "  that  possibly  explains 
the  letter  that  came  to  me  yesterday  morning.  I  was  reading  it  as  you 
came  down  to  breakfast, — a  low,  anonymous  thing,  and  I  burnt  it. 
Now  I  wish  I  had  kept  that." 


762  ^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

"  About  Mr.  Hearn,  was  it  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Lane,  anxiously. 

"  Yes ;  and  now  I  can  begin  to  understand  it,  too. — Miss  Marshall," 
said  he,  turning  impressively  towards  her,  "  your  question  goes  to  the 
very  bottom  of  this  case.  The  friend  who  blocked  their  game  three 
years  ago  is  gone  :  Rawlins  was  killed  in  the  last  campaign  in  Arizona." 

"  Oh,  Fred  !"  cried  Mrs.  Lane.  "  And  was  there  no  one  else  who 
had  helped  Mr.  Hearn  ?" 

"  No  one  but  our  old  Rawlins,  Mabel ;  and  of  all  men  to  help  him 
now,  he  would  have  been  the  most  valuable  here  with  our  new  colonel, 
for  he  and  Morris  had  been  devoted  and  intimate  friends  in  war  days, 
and  I  am  told  the  colonel  was  deeply  cut  up  by  the  news  of  Rawlins's 
death.  There  was  something  romantic  about  their  early  friendship. 
Captain  Rawlins  was  a  widower  whose  wife  had  died  within  a  few 
years  of  her  marriage,  and  I  have  heard  that  both  he  and  Morris,  when 
young  officers,  were  in  love  with  her,  but  that  she  had  chosen  Rawlins." 

"  But,  Captain  Lane,"  said  Miss  Marshall,  whose  thoughts  seemed 
less  fixed  upon  the  romantic  than  upon  the  practical  side  of  the  case,  • 
"surely  Mr.  Hearn  has  receipts  in  full  for  this  amount?" 

"  I  so  understood  him.  Miss  Marshall ;  and  yet  I  do  not  know  the 
nature  of  the  papers  to  which  he  refers.  I  think  he  said  that  he  had 
her  letter ;  but  that  is  of  less  value  now." 

"And  why?"  asked  Miss  Marshall. 

"  Because  the  widow  married  Schonberg." 

"  '  Then  must  the  Jew  be  merciful,'  "  quoted  Miss  Marshall. 

And  for  a  few  moments  not  another  word  was  spoken.  It  was 
that  young  lady  herself  who  broke  the  silence : 

"Perhaps  you  think  me  unduly  apprehensive.  Captain  Lane. 
That  man's  face  made  a  powerful  impression  upon  me  when  I  saw  him 
to-day,  and  perhaps  Mabel  has  told  you  something  of  my  own  experi- 
ence in  trying  to  retrieve  my  father's  fallen  fortunes  when  he  was  too 
old  and  broken  to  do  anything  for  himself,  I  learned  then  the  worth- 
lessness  of  spoken  woi'ds,  and  that  nothing  but  written  contracts  and 
receipts  were  binding." 

She  had  hardly  ceased  speaking  when  the  gate  was  heard  to  swing 
on  its  rusty  hinges,  a  resolute  step  creaked  across  the  piazza,  and  some- 
body was  fumbling  at  the  bell-knob. 

"  Who  can  that  be  at  this  hour  of  the  night?"  asked  Mrs.  Lane,  as 
the  captain  went  to  the  door.  The  bolts  were  drawn  back,  and  a  rush 
of  cold  night-wind  swept  in,  causing  the  lamps  to  suddenly  flare  and 
smoke. 

"  Please,  sir,  is  the  doctor  here  ?"  a  voice  was  heard  to  ask. 

"  No,"  answered  Lane.  "  What's  wanted  ?  He  left  here  about 
twenty  minutes  ago.     Have  you  been  to  his  quarters?" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  and  they  told  me  he  was  here,  at  Captain  Lane's. 
Corporal  Brent  is  took  worse,  sir,  and  the  steward  thinks  the  doctor 
ought  to  see  him.     He's  wild  like,  and  raving." 

"  Mabel,  dear,  I'll  be  back  in  a  moment,"  said  Lane,  reappear- 
ing at  the  parlor  door.  "  Don't  wait  for  me  :  I'm  going  to  see  if  the 
doctor  is  at  Hearu's.  They  went  away  together.  Corporal  Brent  is 
reported  worse." 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  763 

Throwing  his  cavalry  "  circular"  over  his  shoulders,  Lane  stepped 
forth  into  the  night.  It  was  moonless  and  pitchy  dark.  The  lamps 
around  the  quadrangle  were  burning  brightly,  but  hardly  sufficed  to 
illumine  more  than  a  small  sphere  in  the  surrounding  gloom.  Across 
tiie  wide  valley  a  distant  ruddy  spark  showed  where  some  farm  home- 
stead was  still  alive;  and  far  away  to  the  westward  the  electric  lights, 
swinging  high  over  the  thoroughfares  of  the  thriving  town,  shone  with 
keen,  cold  lustre,  and  were  mirrored  in  some  deep,  unruffled  pool  of  the 
stream.  Turning  his  back  on  these,  the  captain  trudged  briskly  down 
the  walk,  the  hospital  attendant  following,  and  opened  the  little  gate 
some  fifty  yards  away  from  his  own.  As  he  surmised,  the  doctor  was 
here,  for  his  voice,  and  Kenyon's  too,  could  be  heard  before  Lane 
tapped  at  the  door. 

"  Come  in,"  shouted  Hearn,  in  answer  to  the  signal,  and  the  cap- 
tain entered. 

"  You  are  asked  for  at  the  hospital,  doctor.  They  say  Brent  is 
delirious." 

At  this  the  medical  man  dropped  the  cigar  he  had  but  half 
smoked  and  left  the  room.  Lane  was  for  going  with  him,  but  Hearn 
begged  him  to  stay  : 

"No  time  like  the  present,  captain,  and  I  want  you  to  see  the 
papers  in  the  celebrated  case  of  Braine  vs.  Hearn  while  Major  Kenyon 
is  here.  I'll  beg  Mrs.  Lane's  pardon  in  the  morning,  and  not  detain 
you  more  than  a  minute." 

Standing  against  the  wall  in  the  midst  of  what  had  been  old  Blau- 
velt's  sitting-room  was  a  plain  wooden  table  with  a  pigeon-holed  desk 
upon  it,  the  lid  of  which,  turned  down,  made  the  writing-shelf.  In 
the  pigeon-holes  were  numerous  folded  papers,  Avell-filled  envelopes, 
packages  of  tobacco,  a  brier-root  pipe,  a  pair  of  old  shoulder-straps, 
several  pairs  of  gloves,  some  fishing-tackle,  some  carte-de-visite-i>,\zed 
photographs,  a  damaged  sabre-knot,  and  the  inevitable  accumulation 
of  odds  and  ends  with  which  a  subaltern's  field-desk  is  apt  to  be  lit- 
tered. But  the  pigeon-holes  had  been  quite  systematically*  labelled. 
There  were  compartments  bearing  the  legends  "  letters  unanswered," 
"letters  answered,"  "personals,"  "bills  paid,"  "bills  unpaid"  (both 
impartially  occupied),  "  pay-accounts,"  "  maps,"  "  field-notes,"  etc. 

"  I  never  knew  the  necessity  of  having  some  sort  of  system  about 
these  matters  until  after  the  experience  I  iiave  been  telling  you  of,  cap- 
tain ;  and  I  am  indebted  to  dear  old  Rawlins  for  it.  You  never  met 
him,  did  you,  Major  Kenyon  ?" 

"  No ;  except  just  for  a  moment  in  the  Shenandoah  Valley  during 
the  war.     He  was  commanding  his  regiment  then." 

"  Yes,  and  lived  to  be  shot  down  in  cold  blood  by  a  lot  of  am- 
buscading Apaches  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century  after,  and — nothing 
but  a  captain  of  cavalry." 

"  He  had  some  little  property  here  in  town  at  one  time,"  said 
Kenyon.  "  That  was  nearly  ten  years  ago,  though,  and  it  went  at  a 
sacrifice,  I'm  told.  Perhaps  it  was  while  he  was  a  local  tax-payer  that 
he  got  to  know  your  Hebrew  friend  of  to-day." 

"  He  never  told  me  what  he  knew  of  him,  beyond  the  mere  fact 


764  ^-^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

that  he  was  dishonest  and  a  born  mischief-maker.  But  the  moment 
he  took  that  case  up  for  me  Schonberg  dropped  it.  For  some  reason 
the  Jew  was  afraid  of  the  old  man,  as  every  one  called  Rawlins." 

Hearn  was  turning  ov^r  in  his  hand,  as  he  spoke,  a  package  of 
folded  papers  held  together  by  elastic  snaps.  Removing  the  upper 
band,  he  began  looking  over  the  docketing  at  the  top  of  each  paper, 

"  Rawlins,  himself,  endorsed  this  particular  packet  for  me,  and 
showed  me  how  it  should  be  done,"  he  said.  *'  I've  often  thought  that 
if  we  could  drop  out  a  little  slice  of  the  mathematical  course  at  the 
Point,  and  have  some  coaching  in  this  sort  of  thing,  how  much  better 

fitted  we  should  be   for  the  every-day  duties  of  life.     Now,  I 

Why,  this  is  odd.  I  certainly  had  those  papers  in  this  very  packet 
not  three  weeks  ago.  I  saw  them  the  day  I  moved  in  here.  I  re- 
member overhauling  this  very  desk  at  the  time." 

Nervously  he  ran  through  the  package  again,  his  fingers  rapidly 
turning  the  folded  pages,  his  face  paling  with  sudden  apprehension. 

"  There  was  a  letter  here  from  Captain  Rawlins,  two  receipts  of 
Schonberg's,  and  the  letter  from  Mrs.  Braine,  all  bundled  up  together, 
and  the  endorsement  of  each  in  Rawlins's  handwriting." 

Then  he  threw  down  the  packet  and  began  pulling  out  the  papers 
in  other  pigeon-holes,  Kenyon  and  Lane  standing  silently  by.  In  vain 
he  searched.  Not  a  vestige  of  the  desired  proofs  could  be  found.  It 
was  with  a  white  face  and  eyes  that  were  full  of  trouble  that  he  turned 
upon  his  seniors : 

"  My  God  !  those  papers  are  gone !" 

"  Look  in  your  trunk,  man,"  said  Lane,  kindly :  "  don't  give  up 
yet;"  while  Kenyon,  himself,  began  a  search  on  his  own  account  in 
the  now  disordered  desk. 

"  Was  this  always  kept  locked  when  you  went  out,  Hearn  ?"  asked 
the  major.  "  Surely  such  important  papers  ought  not  to  be  left  lying 
around  loose." 

"  Locked  ?  Yes.  At  least  I  never  was  away  for  any  time  without 
locking  it.  Sometimes,  just  going  out  to  receive  reports  at  roll-call,  I 
would  not  lock  up ;  for  who  would  want  to  rob  a  fellow  of  papers  of 
no  value  to  any  one  but  the  owner?" 

The  major  looked  grave.  Lane's  face  was  full  of  anxiety  which  he 
hardly  knew  how  to  conceal.  Both  well  knew  the  almost  universally 
careless  habits  of  the  bachelor  officers  in  garrison.  Their  doors  are 
never  locked ;  their  rooms  are  empty  half  the  time,  and  their  pocket- 
books  empty  ordinarily  as  their  rooms  ;  their  books,  papers,  desks,  even 
trunks,  almost  always  lying  unguarded  about  the  premises.  Servants 
and  orderlies  move  from  house  to  house  unquestioned,  and  the  rear 
doors  are  unfastened  day  and  night.  "  We  have  nothing  worth  steal- 
ing," is  the  general  theory,  "  so  why  bother  about  locking  an  empty 
stable?" 

"  Who  is  your  servant  ?"  asked  Kenyon,  brusquely. 

"  Our  black  boy,  Jake.  He  has  taken  care  of  my  rooms  and  traps 
for  three  years,  and  works  for  Wallace  and  Martin,  too.  He's  as 
honest  a  nigger  as  ever  lived ;  has  been  with  the  regiment  longer  than 
I  have." 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  765 

"  Yes ;  Jake  isn't  half  a  bad  boy.  But  was  there  no  one  else  who 
had  the  run  of  the  premises?" 

"  Not  a  soul.     Jake,  himself,  is  rarely  here  except  when  at  work." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  The  major  presently  sauntered 
over  and  tried  the  door  leading  to  the  dining-room. 

"  Here  is  the  key,  if  you  want  to  go  in  there,"  said  Hearn.  "  I 
have  kept  all  the  rooms  locked  since  Blauvelt  left,  except  this  one  and 
my  bedroom  up-stairs.  The  back  door  is  locked  too.  Jake  always 
comes  in  the  front  way.  I  don't  suppose  any  one  has  come  through 
the  kitchen  since  the  day  the  captain's  family  left." 

"  Didn't  Welsh  have  to  come  here  for  his  traps  ?"  asked  Lane. 

"  Yes ;  but  he  was  under  guard  at  the  time, — had  a  sentinel  over 
him, — and  both  Jake  and  I  were  here.  He  took  nothing  out  of  this 
house  but  his  own  personal  belongings,  and  never  entered  this  room  at 
all  that  day.  I  couldn't  help  it,  but  after  seeing  him  with  Schouberg 
to-day  the  first  explanation  of  my  loss  that  occurred  to  me  a  moment 
ago  was — Welsh.     Yet  how  could  he  have  been  the  man  ?" 

There  was  another  moment  of  silence.  Lane  stood  thoughtfully 
examining  the  lock  of  the  desk,  then  strolled  into  the  hall  and  tried 
the  key  of  the  front  door.  As  he  stood  t^iere  under  the  swinging 
lamp,  the  clink  of  an  infantry  sword  was  heard  at  the  gate,  and  the 
voice  of  Captain  Brodie  : 

"  What  are  you  youngsters  doing  at  this  hour  of  the  peaceful 
night  ?  Come  out  here  and  worship  nature  and  visit  sentries  for  me. 
Oh !  beg  your  pardon,  Lane :  I  thought  it  must  be  some  of  the  boys." 

"  Major  Kenyon  and  I  have  been  keeping  Hearn  awake,"  was  the 
answer.     "  We  were  just  going." 

"  Hello,  Brodie,"  quoth  the  major,  as  he,  too,  came  forth.  "  Have 
you  been  to  see  how  Brent  is  ?" 

"Delirious,  I'm  told.  Only  the  doctor  and  the  steward  are  with 
him.  I  was  just  waiting  for  twelve  o'clock  to  go  down  and  stir  up  the 
sentries.  There  ought  to  be  none  but  cavalry  officers  of  the  day  at  this 
post,  by  Jove,  so  that  they  could  ride  around  among  these  outside  sen- 
tries. It's  too  far  for  a  Christian  to  walk  twice  in  twenty-four  hours. 
Thank  God,  there's  the  call  now." 

At  the  first  words  from  the  lips  of  the  sentry  at  the  guard-house 
the  lamps  at  the  two  western  gates  were  promptly  extinguished,  and 
then  the  forms  of  two  men  could  be  discerned  flitting  from  post  to  post, 
extinguishing  each  lamp  in  turn.  Soon  the  entire  quadrangle  was 
wrapped  in  total  darkness,  and  the  silent  stars  gleamed  all  the  more 
brilliantly  in  the  unclouded  sky.  Far  over  to  the  westward  the  reflec- 
tion of  the  electric  lights,  a  pallid,  sickly  glare  upon  the  heavens, 
suddenly  faded  into  nothingness. 

"That's  the  first  time  the  town  clock  and  ours  have  been  so  close 
together  since  my  coming  to  the  garrison.  Where  did  we  get  this 
custom  of  dousing  the  glim  at  midnight?"  asked  Lane. 

"  The  — th  started  that  when  they  were  here.  Got  it  from  town, 
perhaps.  Listen  a  moment,"  answered  Brodie.  "  I  want  to  hear  the 
sentries  down  towards  the  bridge." 

Faint  and  far,  though  borne  on  the  wings  of  the  soft  night-wind, 


766  ^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

the  call  of  No.  7  had  just  sounded.  It  was  now  the  turn  of  the 
farthest  sentry,  No.  8,  whose  post  was  down  the  winding  road  at  the 
haystacks  and  wood-yard.  A  rich,  musical  Irish  voice,  softened  by 
distance,  began  its  soldier  troll  : 

"  N-umber  Eight. — Tvv-el-ve  o'clock, — anda-a-all's Who  goes 

there  f    Halt  !    Halt !    Corp'l  the  gu-a-ard— Number  Eight !"    Bang  ! 

Hearn  was  the  first  of  the  four  oflScers  to  reach  the  southwest  gate. 
He  could  hear  the  footfalls  of  the  officer  of  the  guard  running  rapidly 
down  the  road  past  the  stables,  and  without  hesitation  followed  full 
tilt.  The  guard  was  hurriedly  turning  out  and  forming.  It  was  the 
sei'geant  who  faced  it  to  the  front  and  made  the  customary  report  to 
Captain  Brodie,  as  the  officer  of  the  day  came  panting  to  the  spot : 

"  Sir,  the  guard  is  present  and  the  prisoners  secure." 

An  audible  snicker  in  the  prison-room  followed  these  words.  A 
corporal  file-closer  stepped  back  into  the  guard-room  and  gruffly  ordered 
silence  among  the  prisoners,  which  only  evoked  more  tittering  and 
Avhispering.     A  sudden  thought  occurred  to  the  officer  of  the  day. 

"  Bring  your  lantern  here,"  he  said,  as  he  strode  through  the  guard- 
room into  the  narrow  passage  beyond.  On  one  side  was  the  prison- 
room  whence  the  sound  proceeded  ;  on  the  other  were  the  cells. 

"  Open  these  doors,"  he  ordered.     -• 

"  There's  only  one  cell  occupied,  sir ;  the  third." 

"  Open  that,  then." 

The  heavy  door  creaked  on  its  hinges.  A  gust  of  cool  night-air 
blew  through  the  cell.  The  window  was  wide  open.  The  iron  slats 
were  sawed  away.  The  bird  had  flown.  Private  Goss,  the  assailant 
of  Corporal  Brent,  was  gone. 

VII. 

In  the  soft,  June-like  weather  of  that  memorable  week  at  Ryan  the 
ladies  spent  but  little  of  their  waking  moments  in-doors,  and  even  the 
broad  verandas  of  the  colonel's  quarters  on  the  north  side  were  no  more 
popular  or  populous  than  those  of  Captain  Lane  at  the  southwest 
corner.  Mrs.  Lane  and  Miss  Marshall  attributed  this  to  the  fact  that 
the  sun  on  its  westward  way  passed  behind  their  cosey  home  and  left 
the  front  piazza  cool  and  shaded,  whereas  even  the  canvas  hangings  in 
front  of  the  Morrises'  could  not  quite  shut  out  the  glare.  But  Mrs. 
Morris  laughingly  declared  that  since  their  coming  into  the  society  of 
Fort  Ryan  she  had  become  "  a  decided  back  number."  Whether  the 
theory  of  the  colonel's  wife  were  true  or  not,  it  must  be  said  to  her 
credit  that  she  accepted  the  situation  with  charming  grace,  and  was 
quite  as  frequent  a  visitor  at  the  Lanes'  as  many  of  the  younger  women. 
Her  own  guests  had  departed,  leaving  her  somewhat  lonely,  she  said ; 
and,  while  she  thought  it  by  no  means  a  proper  or  conventional  thing 
that  she  should  be  so  constantly  visiting  people  who  so  seldom  honored 
her,  she  could  not  but  have  ocular  proof  at  all  hours  of  the  day  that 
Mrs.  Lane  and  her  fair  friend  Miss  Marshall  could  not  sally  forth  to 
make  calls  except  at  the  price  of  leaving  a  number  of  callers  in  the 
hirch.  There  were  other  young  ladies  in  garrison,  just  then, — Miss 
Wharton,  visiting  her  brother,  and  Miss  McCrea,  staying  at  the  Burn- 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  767 

hams'.  There  were  several  pretty  girls  in  the  neighboring  town,  who 
frequently  came  out  and  spent  a  few  clays  with  the  families  at  the  post ; 
and  all  these,  of  course,  as  M^ell  as  the  young  married  ladies,  were  the 
recipients  of  much  attention  on  the  part  of  the  officers,  young  and  old. 
It  is  a  fact  well  understood  in  army  circles  that  few  officers  are  too  old 
to  tender  such  attentions,  and  no  woman  too  old  to  receive  them. 

And  Mrs.  Lane  was  rejoicing  in  the  success  of  her  projects  for  the 
benefit  of  Georgia  Marshall.  Her  friend  was  a  pronounced  success 
from  the  day  of  her  arrival ;  and  yet  it  was  somewhat  difficult  to  say 
why.  She  was  not  a  beauty,  despite  her  lovely  eyes ;  she  had  none  of 
those  flattering,  soothing,  half-caressing  ways  some  women  use  with 
such  telling  effect  on  almost  every  man  they  seek  to  impress.  She  was 
not  chatty.  She  was  anything  but  confidential.  She  was  rather  silent, 
and  decidedly  reserved,  yet  a  most  attentive  listener  withal ;  and  then 
she  had  the  courage  of  her  opinions.  Her  prompt  and  prominent  part 
in  the  little  drama  enacted  the  night  of  her  arrival  had  made  her 
famous  in  the  garrison  ;  her  frank,  unaffected,  but  gracious  ways  had  done 
much  to  make  her  popular.  The  statement  that  she  was  an  orphan 
and  poor,  combined  with  the  fact,  which  the  other  women  so  speedily 
determined,  that  she  was  not  pretty,  had  removed  her,  presumably,  from 
the  range  of  jealousy.  The  other  girls  found*  her  very  entertaining, 
since  she  let  them  do  much  of  the  talking,  and  were  willing  to  accord 
to  her  a  certain  quiet  style  of  her  own.  The  men  were  glad  to  be  civil 
to  any  friend  of  Mrs.  Lane's.  And  yet  Georgia  Marshall  had  not  been 
there  a  week  before,  as  Mabel  confidently  predicted,  she  was  having 
in  abundance  tete-d-fMes  of  her  own. 

It  was  the  third  morning  after  the  escape  of  the  prisoner  Goss, 
and  for  forty-eight  hours  nothing  else  had  been  talked  of  among  the 
soldiers,  and  nothing  had  excited  so  much  comment  among  the  fam- 
ilies at  the  post.  Up  to  this  moment  not  a  trace  had  been  found.  The 
two  iron  slats  in  front  of  his  window  had  been  cut  through  swiftly 
and  noiselessly  from  within  with  watch-spring  saws,  and  the  tallow  and 
iron-filings  lay  about  the  stony  window-sill.  He  had  been  thoroughly 
searched  before  being  put  in  that  cell,  and  it  was  absolutely  certain 
that  neither  files  nor  tallow  were  then  in  his  possession.  The  guard 
swore  that  no  man  had  had  access  to  him  afterwards.  A  wire  netting 
prevented  anything  from  being  thrown  to  him  from  the  outside,  and 
this  had  been  forced  u})ward  and  outward  after  the  bars  were  cut. 
The  sergeant  of  the  guard  was  sure  that  no  man  had  touched  or  even 
spoken  to  him,  except  when  he,  himself,  had  seen  his  dinner  and  supper 
handed  in.  There  could  have  been  no  collusion  on  the  part  of  the  sen- 
tries, for  the  men  on  No.  1  all  through  the  day  and  night  were  of  the 
infantry,  and  warm  friends  of  Brent,  who  would  have  lost  no  chance 
of  putting  a  bullet  through  the  supposed  assailant  in  the  event  of  his 
attempting  to  escape.  The  blacksmith  said  it  would  take  several  hours 
— at  least  five — to  file  through  those  two  bars,  and  the  man  must  have 
worked  with  the  patience  of  a  beaver.  It  was  a  drop  of  only  seven  feet 
to  the  ground  without,  for  the  window  overlooked  the  up-hill  slope 
back  of  the  guard- house  ;  and  yet,  as  he  probably  had  to  come  through 
head  first,  that  was  quite  a  fall.     The  prints  of  his  outspread  hands 


768  ^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

were  fouud  in  the  dust-heap,  and  it  looked  as  though  he  must  have 
lain  there  some  moments  before  stealing  away. 

The  sentry  far  down  by  the  wood-yards,  No.  8,  stated  that  just 
as  he  was  calling  off  and  standing  faced  to  the  east  so  that  his  voice 
might  carry  to  the  guard-house,  he  heard  a  sudden  stumble  behind,  him  ; 
a  man  tripped  over  a  log  between  him  and  the  road,  then  ran  like  mad 
down  toward  the  old  station.  It  was  too  dark  to  recognize  who  it  could 
be.  The  officer  of  the  guard  had  stopped  to  interrogate  the  sentry  on 
reaching  his  post,  but  Mr.  Hearn  had  pushed  ahead,  and  down  at  the 
foot  of  the  hill  had  plainly  heard  a  horse's  hoofs  and  the  light  rumble 
of  wheels  crossing  the  bridge  and  going  at  a  spanking  trot ;  yet  soldiers 
returning  from  pass,  reliable  men,  had  neither  seen  nor  heard  horse  or 
wagon  anywhere  on  the  flats  along  which  lay  the  road  to  town.  An 
eifort  had  been  made  to  trail  the  wheel-tracks  from  the  bridge,  but, 
though  a  place  was  found  among  the  trees  near  the  old  station  where  a 
horse  and  buggy  had  evidently  stood  for  two  or  three  hours,  it  was  im- 
possible to  determine  which  way  they  had  gone  after  crossing  the  stream, 
for  the  farm-wagons  coming  from  every  by-road  in  the  morning  had 
totally  obliterated  the  tracks. 

Goss's  escape  while  under  charges  of  such  grave  character  was 
regarded  as  tantamounf  to  admission  of  his  guilt. 

Meantime,  Corporal  Brent's  case  seemed  to  have  taken  a  turn  for 
the  better,  and,  though  there  was  still  danger,  there  was  hope.  What 
struck  many  inquirers  was  the  fact  that  the  doctor  seemed  ill  at  ease, 
and  invariably  evaded  the  question,  when  pressed  as  to  the  nature  of 
Brent's  delirium.  This,  of  course,  simply  served  to  whet  public  curi- 
osity; and  the  young  soldier  became,  all  unconsciously,  an  object  of 
greater  interest  than  ever.  The  ladies  of  the  infantry,  who  had  known 
him  by  sight  some  time,  were  certain  that  from  the  very  first  he  had 
borne  all  the  outward  appearance  of  a  gentleman,  and  in  every  word 
and  gesture  had  "  given  the  world  assurance  of  a  man"  of  birth  and 
breeding.  Their  sisters  of  the  cavalry,  who  had  but  recently  reached 
Fort  Ryan,  were  not  slow  in  accepting  their  theories.  Such  things 
were  by  no  means  uncommon  in  the  service;  and  wouldn't  it  be  deli- 
cious, now,  to  have  a  romance  in  the  ranks  at  Ryan  ?  Only  fancy ! 
Mrs.  Burnham,  Mrs.  Brodie,  and,  above  all,  Mrs.  Graves,  were  quite 
ready  to  go  to  the  hospital  at  any  time  the  doctor  would  permit  and 
become  the  nurse  of  the  young  corporal  ;  but  the  medical  man  almost 
bluntly  declined  the  services  of  two  of  these  ladies,  and  with  positive 
insolence,  said  the  third,  had  told  her  she  could  much  better  devote  her 
ministrations  to  her  own  children.  "  Just  as  if  I  didn't  know  best  what 
my  children  needed !"  said  the  oflTended  matron. 

And  it  was  about  Dr.  IngersoU  that  Mrs.  Graves  was  discoursing 
this  very  morning  on  Mrs.  Lane's  piazza,  while  her  own  olive-branches 
were  clambering  the  fences  and  having  a  battle  royal  with  the  progeny 
of  Mi's.  Sergeant  Flynn  at  the  other  end  of  the  garrison.  And,  as  luck 
would  have  it,  who  should  come  along  the  gravel  walk  but  the  major 
and  the  doctor,  arm  in  arm  !  at  which  sight  Miss  Marshall's  expressive 
eyes,  brimming  with  merriment,  sought  the  half-vexed  features  of" 
Captain  Lane,  who  had  been  fidgeting  uneasily  in  his  chair  during  her 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  769 

ladyship's  exordium.  Like  many  another  excellent  soldier,  this  prac- 
tised trooper  had  no  weapon  with  which  to  silence  a  woman's  tongue. 

"  You'll  find  I'm  right,  Mrs.  Lane.  See  if  you  don't,"  proceeded 
Mrs.  Graves,  all  unconscious  of  the  coming  pair.  "  You  found  I 
wasn't  mistaken  about  Major  Kenyon ;  and  they  are  just  as  like  as  two 
peas  in  a  pod, — both  of  them." 

Then,  recalled  to  the  possibilities  of  the  situation  by  the  mirthful 
gleam  in  Miss  Marshall's  eye  and  the  audible  chuckles  of  Mr.  Lee,  she 
whirled  about  and  caught  sight  of  the  object  of  her  dissertation. 

"Oh,  it's  you  they're  laughing  at,  is  it?"  she  hailed.  "I  was  just 
talking  about  you." 

"Then  how  could  you  find  the  heart  to  laugh,  Mrs.  Lane?"  said 
the  major,  raising  his  cap  with  simulated  reproach  of  mien.  "  Does  it 
amuse  you  to  see  fellow-mortals  flayed  alive?  Is  it  not  bad  enough 
that,  like  Sir  Peter  Teazle,  I  am  never  out  of  Mrs.  Graves's  sight  but 
that  I  know  I've  left  my  character  behind  mo?  The  doctor  and  I 
were  wondering  whether  there  was  a  vestige  left  of  the  good  impression 
we  strove  to  make  upon  Miss  Marshall." 

"  I'm  sure  you  ruined  all  possibility  of  that  three  days  ago,  major, 
when  you  showed  her  what  a  cynical  old  party  you  were.  No  wonder 
the  young  officers  in  our  regiment  lose  all  love  for  their  profession  after 
hearing  you  talk.  If  I  were  Colonel  Morris,  I  wouldn't  have  you 
contaminating  the  lieutenants  of  the  Eleventh  the  way  you  were  trying 
it  on  Mr.  Hearn  the  other  day." 

"Where  is  Mr.  Hearn,  by  the  way?"  asked  Mrs.  Lane,  eager  to 
put  an  end  to  such  unprofitable  controversy.  "lie  hasn't  been  in  here 
for  nearly  two  days.  Come,  major, — come,  doctor,  walk  in  and  sit 
awhile.     We  want  to  hear  how  Corporal  Brent  is,  too." 

"  Brent  seems  easier,  Mrs.  Lane,  thank  you,"  answered  the  surgeon. 
"  I  cannot  stop  just  now ;  we  came  over  to  meet  the  mail,  for  the 
orderly  seems  to  have  an  unusually  big  load  this  morning.  Here 
come  the  youngsters  up  from  the  post-office  now." 

And,  as  he  spoke,  perhaps  half  a  dozen  young  cavalrymen,  still  in 
their  riding-boots  and  spurs,  as  though  they  had  but  just  returned 
from  drill,  came  slowly  up  the  slope.  Wharton  had  an  open  news- 
paper which  he  was  reading  aloud ;  the  others  were  hanging  about 
him,  evidently  listening  with  absorbed  attention,  to  the  neglect  of  their 
own  letters. 

"What's  the  matter  with  the  boys  ?"  asked  Kenyon,  whimsically, 
as  they  approached.     "  They  look  as  solemn  as  owls." 

Naturally,  all  eyes  were  drawn  toward  the  coming  party.  Lane, 
bending  forward,  saw  that  Hearn's  face  was  pale,  even  under  the  coat 
of  tan  and  sunburn.  He  would  have  passed  them  by,  simply  lifting 
his  cap,  as  Wharton  half  folded  the  paper  when  the  group  filed  in 
through  the  main  gate,  but  again  Kenyon  spoke : 

"What  makes  you  look  so  like  a  pack  of  mutes,  lads?  What's 
gone  wrong?     Is  Congress  sailing  into  us  again?" 

"  Major  Kenyon,"  said  Martin,  deliberately,  halting  in  front  of  the 
gate,  "  I  said  some  disparaging  things  about  your  remarks  here  the 
other  day.  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir.  You  were  right ;  I  was  wrong. 
Vol.  XLVI.— 50 


770  ^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

— Hold  on,  Hearn  :  don't  go  now  and  brood  over  this  thing.  Stay 
here  with  the  crowd,  and  we'll  take  it  all  together." 

Lane  had  half  risen,  anxiety  deepening  in  his  dark-gray  eyes : 

"  What  is  it,  Hearn  ?     Come  in  here, — come  in,  all  of  you." 

And  Georgia  Marshall,  glancing  from  one  face  to  another,  noted  the 
silence  and  gravity  that  had  fallen  on  each.  Some  looked  full  of  sup- 
pressed wrath,  others  simply  perplexed  and  annoyed.  Without  a  word 
to  any  one,  Hearn  stepped  in  and  stood  beside  her  chair. 

"  You  best  know  your  own  papers,  major  :  you  read  this  aloud," 
said  Martin. 

And  Kenyon,  looking  about  in  momentary  surprise,  unfolded  the 
great  pages  of  the  Chicago  daily.  His  eyes  gleamed  as  they  caught  the 
heavy  head-lines  at  the  top  of  the  sheet. 

"Hello!  hello!  what's  this?"  he  said.  "Army  Brutality.  Out- 
rageous Treatment  of  Private  Soldiers.  Civilians  Insulted  and  Abused. 
A  Thug  in  Shoulder-Straps.  Lieutenant  Hearn  a  Cowardly  Bully. 
Special  Despatch  to  the  Palladium.  Centeal  City,  May  3. — For 
years  past  the  citizens  of  this  thriving  frontier  town  have  had  frequent 
cause  for  complaint  as  to  the  swaggering  and  insolent  bearing  of  the 
officers  of  the  army  stationed  at  the  neighboring  post  of  Fort  Ryan; 
but  of  late  the  feeling  has  reached  fever-heat,  due  to  recent  occurrences 
which  attracted  wide-spread  attention.  Acting  under  instructions,  your 
correspondent  reached  this  city  five  days  ago,  and  has  made  a  thorough, 
impartial,  and  exhaustive  investigation  into  the  matter;  has  talked  with 
many,  if  not  ail,  of  the  prominent  citizens ;  has  personally  visited  the 
post  and  conversed  with  a  number  of  intelligent  enlisted  men ;  and,  as 
a  result  of  his  painstaking  observations,  he  is  enabled  to  send  you  the 
following  account,  for  the  absolute  accuracy  of  every  detail  of  which 
he  vouches  unreservedly. 

"  So  far  as  the  enlisted  men  are  concerned,  the  people  have  no  com- 
plaint to  make.  It  is,  indeed,  the  contemplation  of  their  wrongs  and 
sufferings  that  has  roused  the  popular  clamor  against  their  aristocratic 
and  overbearing  taskmasters.  Just  why  it  is  that  the  instant  a  young 
man  escapes  from  that  hot-bed  of  flunkeyism  and  snobbery,  West  Point, 
and  dons  the  straps  of  a  second  lieutenant,  he  should  imagine  that  he 
owns  the  earth  and  that  the  nations  should  bow  down  to  him,  is  some- 
thing no  intelligent  mind  can  understand.  But  to  become  convinced 
that  it  is  so  beyond  peradventure,  one  has  only  to  visit  this  representa- 
tive army  post,  garrisoned  as  it  is  by  large  detachments  of  so-called 
distinguished  regiments;  though,  from  all  accounts,  the  distinction  they 
have  earned  seems  chiefly  to  be  connected  with  drinking-bouts  and 
gambling-tables. 

"  On  every  side  it  was  declared  to  your  correspondent  that  civilians 
who  ventured  out  to  the  fort  were  treated  with  contumely  and  insult ; 
that  the  officers  rudely  ordered  them  off  the  reservation  and  forbade 
them  to  enter  the  sacred  precincts  of  the  barracks,  and  even  caused 
their  ejection  from  the  public  store  and  saloon,  kept  at  the  post  by  one 
Stone,  who  truckles,  of  course,  to  his  official  neighbors  and  obtains  in 
return  the  mandate  that  the  soldiers  must  spend  their  money  with  him 
at  swindling  prices,  and  the  proliibition  against  their  having  any  deal- 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  771 

ings  with  the  reputable  merchants  in  the  city.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
merchants  who  have  been  so  unfortunate  as  to  trust  the  officers  are  not 
able  to  collect  their  bills  at  all,  and  are  absolutely  forbidden  to  enter 
the  garrison  when  they  seek  to  press  their  claims. 

"  Here  is  the  brief  history  of  one  day's  experience.  In  company 
with  one  of  the  oldest,  wealthiest,  and  most  respected  business-men  of 
this  section,  your  correspondent  drove  to  Fort  Ryan  this  morning  to 
see  for  himself  how  far  the  facts  would  justify  the  allegations,  and  if 
a  lingering  doubt  remained  it  was  at  once  and  forever  rudely  dispelled. 
A  case  of  particular  hardship  had  been  brought  to  our  attention,  and 
we  desired  to  see  Trooper  Welsh  in  person.  He  was  on  sick-report, 
excused  from  drill  by  reason  of  the  treatment  that  had  been  accorded 
him  by  the  commanding  officer  of  his  troop,  or  we  probably  could  not 
have  seen  him  at  all.  Seizing  a  moment  when  the  officers  were  away 
at  drill,  Mr.  S.  sent  a  message  asking  the  young  soldier  to  come  out. 
A  fine-looking,  intelligent  man  of  about  twenty-five  years  was  pre- 
sented to  your  correspondent,  and  briefly  and  simply  told  his  story. 
It  was  enough  to  make  an  American's  blood  boil  in  his  veins  to  note 
the  emotion  and  humiliation  it  seemed  to  cause  him.  He  came  of  an 
excellent  family  in  the  East,  but,  having  long  desired  from  patriotic 
motives  to  become  a  soldier  of  the  flag,  he  had  against  their  wishes 
enlisted  under  an  assumed  name.  From  the  very  start  his  captain 
had  compelled  him  to  work  about  his  liouse  like  a  common  drudge. 
He  had  to  black  boots,  build  fires,  sweep  the  kitchen,  actually  do 
chores  for  the  captain's  cook.  In  vain  he  begged  to  be  allowed  to  join 
his  troop  and  learn  his  duty  as  a  soldier :  he  was  sternly  refused.  It 
made  his  own  comrades  among  the  soldiers  look  down  upon  him,  and 
when  he  could  find  time  to  visit  them  at  the  barracks  the  sergeants 
abused  him  like  a  thief.  But  the  man  who  particularly  hounded  him 
was  Second  Lieutenant  Hearn,  a  young  martinet  fresh  from  West 
Point,  who  never  lost  a  chance  of  cursing  him  for  errors  on  drill  or 
mistakes  made  afterward.  The  captain  had  taught  him  that  when  at 
work  for  him  he  must  not  quit  it  to  jump  up  and  salute  every  lieuten- 
ant who  happened  along;  and  just  because  he  remained  seated  and  at 
work  when  Lieutenant  Hearn  passed  by,  the  latter  cursed  him  like  a 
dog,  had  him  thrown  into  a  filthy  dungeon,  and  there  he  lay  until  he 
was  tried  by  court-martial  and  sentenced  by  a  gang  of  Hearn's  com- 
rades to  fine  and  imprisonment  for  obeying  his  captain's  orders.  An- 
other time,  when  he  was  cleaning  the  captain's  horse,  the  lieutenant's 
horse,  which  was  next  him  on  the  line,  kept  backing  over  him,  tread- 
ing on  him,  and  knocking  his  brushes  out  of  his  hand ;  and  because 
he  simply  pushed  him  back  and  spoke  sharply.  Lieutenant  Hearn 
rushed  in  and  swore  he  had  a  mind  to  kick  him  black  and  blue.  'If 
he  had,'  said  Welsh, — and  the  young  soldier's  eyes  blazed  with  pent-up 
feeling, — '  I  could  no  longer  have  controlled  myself.  I  would  have 
knocked  him  down  and  appealed  to  the  people  of  America  to  uphold 
me.'  For  this  he  was  again  thrust  into  the  vermin-haunted  dungeon, 
and  this  made  him  so  ill  that  the  surgeon  himself  had  been  compelled 
to  interpose  in  his  behalf.  '  I  would  desert  and  end  it  all,'  said  the 
poor  fellow,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  *  but  I  have  sworn  to  serve  my 


772  ^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

country,  and  I  shall  keep  ray  oath.'  When  told  that  the  Palladium 
would  see  him  righted,  though  the  heavens  fell,  his  emotion  was  some- 
thing that  would  have  melted  the  stoutest  heart. 

"  But  now  comes  the  crowning  peak  of  blackguardism.  Warned 
by  some  spy,  doubtless,  of  the  fact  that  his  victim  was  telling  his  story 
to  citizens,  Lieutenant  Hearn  suddenly  appeared  on  the  scene,  and  be- 
fore our  eyes,  with  vulgar  abuse  and  tyrannical  bearing,  ordered  Pri- 
vate V/elsh  instantly  to  leave.  In  vain  the  young  soldier  respectfully 
pleaded  that  he  had  a  riglit  to  speak  with  friends  who  came  to  see  him. 
In  vain  he  pointed  out  that  he  was  on  no  duty  at  the  time.  In  vain 
Mr.  S.  interposed  in  behalf  of  justice  and  decency.  The  brutal  bully 
seized  the  weakened  invalid  in  an  iron  grasp,  dragged  him  like  a  dog 
to  the  gutter  in  front,  and  then,  with  cuffs  and  curses,  drove  him  before 
him  into  the  guard-house.  Meantime,  Mr.  S.,  who  had  formerly  many 
friends  at  the  post,  hastened  into  the  officers'  club-room,  hoping  to 
explain  the  matter  and  secure  justice  for  the  unfortunate  fellow.  But 
it  was  a  hapless  move.  What  business  had  he,  a  civilian,  to  intrude 
uninvited  into  the  mighty  presence  of  half  a  dozen  beardless  young 
satraps  in  shoulder-straps  ?  He  was  rudely  ordered  to  leave  the  prem- 
ises ;  and  when,  in  his  indignation,  he  ])rotested  against  such  treatment, 
Lieutenant  Hearn  himself  came  back  boiling  with  rage,  calling  for  his 
troopers  to  come  and  eject  these  intruders  from  the  garrison.  We  were 
actually  driven  by  force  off  the  reservation. 

"  Your  correspondent  has,  of  course,  made  immediate  and  respectful 
representation  of  these  facts  to  the  general  commanding  the  depart- 
ment, and  when  next  he  visits  the  fort  will  do  so  with  a  safeguard  that 
no  bully  in  the  uniform  of  a  second  lieutenant  will  dare  gainsay.  This 
is  but  the  prelude  of  further  details  still  more  disgraceful  to  the  pam- 
pered minions  of  a  too  long-suffering  public." 

For  a  few  moments  there  was  silence.  Then  the  major  glanced 
around  his  circle  of  listeners. 

"  Well,  Hearn,"  said  he,  as  he  folded  the  paper,  "  somewhere  I 
have  heard  the  expression,  'Didn't  I  tell  you  so?'  Dulce  et  deeorum 
est  pro  jpatria  mori.     I  don't  wonder  you  love  your  profession." 

"  Surely  they  cannot  believe  such  an  outrageous  tissue  of  lies," 
burst  out  Mrs.  Wharton,  vehemently.  "  Surely  the  moment  our  side 
of  the  story  is  heard  the  public  will  see  the  difference." 

"  Our  side,  my  dear  madam,  is  never  heard.  The  newspaper  has 
the  public  ear.  Scandal  spreads  world-wide  ;  truth  never  reaches  half 
as  far.  Hearn  has  only  one  recourse, — grin  and  bear  it,  and  pray  God 
nothing  worse  may  follow." 

"What  worse  can  follow,  I  should  like  to  know?"  asked  Lee, 
indignantly. 

"  What  worse  ?  Why,  man,  you  don't  suppose  a  Chicago  paper 
sends  an  emissary  a  thousand  miles  to  work  up  only  one  scene  in  a 
sensation  ?  Look  for  the  next  day's  issue,  and  the  next.  Wait  till 
the  letters  demanding  explanation  begin  coming  in  from  department, 
division,  and  army  head-quarters.  Fiat  justitia,  mat  coelam,  will  be  the 
Palladium's  cry ;  Parturiunt  monies^  nascitur  7'idiculus  mus,  the  out- 
come.    But  all  the  same,  my  friends  and  fellow-citizens,  we  don't  get 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  773 

through  this  row  without  the  biggest  kind  of  a  court-martial. — Ah, 
the  orderly  of  the  commanding  officer !     Whom  does  he  want?" 

Not  a  word  was  spoken,  and  every  eye  was  fixed  upon  the  trim 
figure  of  the  approaching  soldier,  who  entered  the  gate  and,  halting 
respectfully  a  few  yards  away  from  the  foot  of  the  steps,  saluted : 

"  The  colonel's  compliments  to  the  officer  of  the  day,  and  desires 
that  Private  Welsii,  now  in  the  guard-house,  be  sent  to  the  office  imme- 
diately." 

"Aha  !"  said  Kenyon,  as  the  soldier  turned  away.  "Already  some- 
body's been  tickling  the  colonel  with  a  telegram.  He's  hardly  had 
time  to  read  the  papers.  Now  he  will  hear  Welsh's  story ;  and  when 
Welsh  has  sufficiently  blackened  the  character  of  his  commanding 
officer,  Hearn  will  be  afforded  his  chance. — Hearn,  my  boy,  my  hearty 
sympathies  are  with  you.  By  all  means  go  on  and  prosper  in  your  pro- 
fession, and  learn  to  love  it  as  I  do. — Martin,  you  and  he  have  a  mo- 
ment to  spare,  come  over  to  my  quarters  with  me :  I  want  to  talk  this 
thing  over  with  you. — Good-afternoon,  Mrs.  Lane.  Good-afternoon, 
Mrs.  Graves.  A  sudden  thought  occurs  to  me.  What  was  it  Cam- 
bronne  is  reported  to  have  said  at  Waterloo? — 'The  Guard  dies,  but 
never  surrenders.'  Here's  a  more  modern  epigram  for  you  :  The  Press 
lies,  but  never  retracts." 

VIII. 

With  all  his  soldierly  qualifications.  Colonel  Morris,  like  most  of . 
his  sex,  had  certain  defects  of  character.  He  was  a  tireless  worker  as 
a  regimental  commander,  and  had  done  a  great  deal  to  bring  up  the 
"  tone"  of  the  Eleventh,  which  had  suffered  vastly  during  the  reign  of 
old  Riggs,  his  predecessor.  He  had  won  a  good  name  as  a  young 
officer  in  the  war  days,  and  had  borne  himself  well  in  the  more  trying 
and  hazardous  campaigns  of  the  far  frontier.  But  Morris,  both  during 
the  war  and  since,  had  seen  staff  duty  that  had  brought  him  into  social 
and  political  circles  in  Washington  ;  had  learned  there  the  lesson  that 
an  ounce  of  influence  is  worth  a  pound  of  pure  record ;  that  in  most 
matters  affecting  army  legislation  it  was  the  men  who  were  the  farthest 
away  from  the  army  whose  opinions  Congress  sought;  that  in  all  ap- 
pointments to  the  staff  departments  personal  and  professional  excellence 
might  plead  in  vain  unless  backed  by  Senators  by  the  score;  and  that 
while  judicious  use  of  the  gifts  that  God  had  put  in  his  way  in  the 
shape  of  the  public  press  might  result  in  the  gradual  rearing  of  a 
monument  of  popular  esteem,  a  single  unguarded  word  or  petulant  ex- 
pression would  tumble  the  whole  fabric  about  his  ears.  He  had  seen 
the  highest  names  in  legislative,  financial,  and  social  circles  dragged  in 
the  dust ;  the  head  of  the  House  of  Representatives  dethroned  ;  a  W^all 
Street  monarch  execrated  ;  a  gallant  soldier,  maimed  in  battle,  ridiculed. 
In  combined  and  resistless  .assault  the  press  had  overwhelmed  the 
record  of  years.  Morris  had  faced  death  in  a  dozen  fields  without 
a  flinch,  but  he  trembled  in  the  presence  of  a  reporter. 

Nervous,  irritable,  and  unstrung,  he  called  his  officers  about  him 
on  the  following  day.  Guard-mounting  was  still  in  progress ;  the 
band  was  playing  sweetly  on  the  grassy  parade;  the  ringing  voice  of 


774  ^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

the  soldierly  young  adjutant  swung  the  column  around  in  its  jaunty 
march  in  review.  One  after  another  the  troop  and  company  officers 
came  quietly  in,  bade  their  flushed  commander  a  courteous  good-morn- 
ing, and  took  their  seats.  He  was  pacing  the  floor,  tugging  at  his 
moustache,  another  telegram  in  his  hand. 

"  Where's  Dr.  lugersoll  ?"  he  asked,  suddenly  stopping  in  his 
walk. 

"Here,  colonel,"  said  the  post  surgeon,  stepping  within  the  office 
from  the  brick  pavement  outside.  "I  was  waiting  a  moment  to  see 
the  steward,  to  give  some  directions  as  to  Brent's  case." 

"  Ah,  yes.  He's  better,  I  believe.  Now,  I  see  you  have  marked 
Welsh  for  duty,  and  the  man  tells  me  he  couldn't  sleep  all  night  be- 
cause of  pains  and  chills." 

"  Welsh  is  as  well  as  I  am.  Colonel  Morris,  or  if  ill  has  only 
himself  to  blame.  He  knows  as  well  as  I  do  that  he  has  no  business 
to  go  to  the  store  and  drink  when  under  treatment  and  taking  medi- 
cine. It  is  my  firm  conviction,  sir,  that  that  man  is  simply  trying  to 
shirk." 

"  Well,  well.  Dr.  Ingersoll,  it  is  a  matter  in  which  we  cannot  be 
too  careful.  You  haven't  the  faintest  conception,  sir,  to  what  this  most 
unfortunate  affair  may  lead.  It  is  infinitely  better  that  we  should  be 
imposed  upon  by  a  shirk  than  that  the  public  should  get  to  look  upon 
us  as  this  man's  persecutors.  The  Palladium  that  came  yesterday  was 
bad  enough,  in  all  conscience,  but  here's  another  telegram  from  depart- 
ment head-quarters  demanding  immediate  investigation  and  report  upon 
the  allegations  contained  in  the  second  day's  issue  of  the  series.  How 
many  are  there  to  be,  in  heaven's  name? — Mr.  Hearn,  have  you  sub- 
mitted your  explanation  ?"  said  the  colonel,  turning  abruptly  upon  the 
young  lieutenant,  who  was  sitting  in  pained  silence  by  Captain  Lane. 

"  It  is  in  tiie  hands  of  the  adjutant,  sir,"  answered  Hearn,  rising. 

"  I  have  not  seen  it, — I  have  not  seen  it.  I  hope  you  have  been 
full  and  explicit,  Mr.  Hearn." 

The  lieutenant's  pale  face  flushed  with  sudden  sense  of  indignation  : 

"  I  have  never  yet  been  accused  of  any  attempt  at  concealment  of 
my  actions.  Colonel  Morris.  Gentlemen  present  who  have  known  me 
nearly  six  years  will  tell  you  that.'^ 

"  I'm  not  accusing  you  of  anything,  Mr.  Hearn.  Pray  keep  your 
temper,  sir.  But  you  do  not  seem  to  appreciate  in  the  least  the  very 
trying  and  unpleasant  position  in  which  you  have,  however  unwittingly, 
placed  every  officer  at  this  post,  especially  me,  on  whom  the  burden  of 
responsibility  must  fall.  If  I  had  known  four  days  ago  that  you  had 
used,  violence — or  at  least  force — in  ejecting  that  soldier  from  tlie  bar- 
room, I  should  certainly  have  discountenanced  his  further  punishment. 
This  sort  of  thing  cannot  be  tolerated,  Mr.  Hearn. — And,  gentlemen, 
I  say  it  to  you  one  and  all,  this  sort  of  thing  cannot  be  allowed.  It 
creates  a  wrong  impression  among  the  people.  It  gives  the  press  an 
opportunity  to  criticise  our  methods  of  discipline.  It  makes  a  martyr 
of  the  man  in  the  eyes  of  the  public,  and  we  can't  stand  it.  I  have 
felt  compelled  to  release  him  from  confinement  and  to  direct  the  quash- 
ing of  the  charges  against  him." 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  775 

There  was  a  moment  of  dead  silence.  Hearn  was  struggling  to 
control  himself  and  to  protest  that  he  had  used  neither  violence  nor 
any  force  worth  speaking  of.     But  Captain  Brodie  took  the  floor : 

"  I  must  ask  your  pardon,  Colonel  Morris,  but  I  was  witness  to 
that  transaction  from  beginning  to  end,  and  I  myself  ordered  Welsh 
taken  to  the  guard-house.  It  was  after  that,  not  before,  that  force  was 
used.     Welsh  cursed  and  resisted  the  corporal  of  the  guard " 

"Never  mind,  Captain  Brodie:  what  seems  to  have  infuriated  the 
man,  and  what  has  given  rise  to  all  this  uproar  of  the  press,  is  the  fact 
that  Mr.  Hearn,  as  they  say,  dragged  him  out.  Of  course  that  may 
be  exaggerated." 

"  It's  a  d d  lie,"  muttered  old  Kenyon,  under  his  breath.    "But 

all  the  more  it  goes."  , 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  be  unjust  to  Mr.  Hearn  in  this  matter,"  con- 
tinued the  colonel.  "  But  I  cannot  too  strongly  deplore  the  conse- 
quences of  his — of  his  action.  And  then  in  threatening  to  expel 
civilians  from  the  garrison  !  What  earthly  right  had  you,  Mr.  Heai'n, 
to  arrogate  to  yourself  the  faculties  of  commanding  officer?  /am  the 
only  man  to  say  who  shall  and  who  shall  not  be  kept  on  or  off  the 
reservation.  And  now,  of  all  men  on  earth  that  you  young  gentlemen 
should  have  been  particularly  careful  not  to  antagonize,  it  turns  out 
that  one  of  them  is  a  representative  of  the  press." 

And,  in  the  full  realization  of  a  circumstance  so  calamitous,  the 
colonel  sank  into  his  chair.  Hearn  would  have  explained  that  he  had 
made  no  personal  threats,  but  Lane's  restraining  hand  was  laid  on  his 
knee. 

"  Patience,  lad  !"  he  whispered.  "  Say  nothing  now.  It  will  all 
come  right  in  the  end." 

"  I'm  sure  I  took  the  utmost  pains  to  be  civil  to  the  a — gentlemen," 
drawled  Martin,  with  his  innocent  eyes  on  the  vacancy  of  the  opposite 
walls.  "  I  implored  Stone  not  to  eject  them.  I  had  to  beg  oiF  drink- 
ing with  the — a-Israelitish  party  because  I  had  to  shoot.  Of  course, 
colonel,  if  I  had  known  that  the  other  gentleman  was  so  highly  con- 
nected, there's  no  saying  to  what  length  I  wouldn't  have  gone  to  attain 
the  elevation  they  had  already  reached, — one  of  them  at  least.  A 
dozen  drinks,  I  think,  might  have  done  it." 

"  This  is  no  occasion  for  the  exercise  of  your  sarcastic  powers,  Mr. 
Martin,"  said  the  colonel,  severely.  "  It  is  to  be  hoped  your  civility 
was  less  transparent  a  sham  than  your  present  remarks." 

"  Pardon  me,  colonel,"  interposed  Lieutenant  Lee,  whose  seat  was 
near  the  window.     "  Here  comes  the  gentleman  himself." 

Surely  enough,  a  buggy  drew  up  in  front  of  the  office,  a  bulky 
form  slowly  descended,  and,  with  much  deliberation  of  manner,  Mr. 
Abrams,  of  Chicago,  looked  about  him,  then  proceeded  to  tie  his  horse 
to  a  young  maple  at  the  edge  of  the  walk.  The  orderly  sprang  for- 
ward : 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir,  but  it's  against  orders  to  tie  horses  to  the  trees. 
The  horse-posts  are  across  the  road." 

"Against  whose  orders?"  said  the  gentleman  from  Chicago,  with 
slow  and  impressive  movement,  turning  upon  the  trim  soldier. 


776  ^N  ARMY  PORTIA. 

"  The  colonel's  orders,  sir.  Even  the  officers  can't  leave  their 
horses  in  front  of  head-quarters,  sir." 

"  My  God  !  Here !  this  will  never  do !"  fidgeted  the  colonel, 
springing  to  his  feet.     "  Mr.  Adjutant,  send  a  man  out  here." 

"Shall  I  take  care  of  the  gentleman's  horse?"  said  Martin,  with 
grave  humility  of  mien,  rising  slowly  to  his  feet,  as  the  colonel  strode 
to  the  door.  But  Morris  was  too  hurried  to  hear  him,  or  even  to  re- 
buke the  titter  with  which  the  words  were  greeted.  By  this  time, 
paying  no  attention  to  the  orderly,  the  representative  of  the  Palladium 
had  reached  the  door-way  and  was  brought  face  to  face  with  the  post 
commander : 

"  Colonel  Morris,  I  presume.  I  am  the  bearer  of  an  order  to  you 
from  department  head-quarters." 

"  Colonel  Morris,  sir,  at  your  service,"  replied  the  post  commander, 

with  much  suavity.     "A  letter,  I  presume.      Walk  in,  Mr. — Mr. 

Take  a  chair,  sir." 

Several  of  the  officers  nearest  the  door  had  risen  promptly,  as 
though  in  readiness  to  receive  with  due  honors  the  colonel's  guest. 
Others  slowly  followed  their  example.  Some  remained  seated  and 
continued  a  low-toned  chat.  All  gradually  resumed  their  seats,  and, 
while  some  with  evident  curiosity  studied  the  appearance  of  the 
stranger,  Brodie  and  Lee  looked  at  him  with  eyes  that  plainly  spoke 
their  resentment,  while  Hearn's  hands  were  clinched  and  his  lips  com- 
pressed. No  word  was  spoken  to  the  new  arrival,  however.  He,  with 
entire  indifference  of  manner  as  to  all  the  rest,  fixed  his  gaze  upon 
the  commanding  officer,  who  rapidly  read.  The  note  was  short  and 
to  the  point.  Morris  had  reason  to  be  thankful  for  his  diplomatic 
training. 

"  I  am  greatly  pleased  to  give  you  welcome,  Mr.  Abrams,"  he  said, 
extending  his  hand  with  much  apparent  cordiality  of  manner.  "  This, 
while  by  no  means  necessary,  of  course  adds  to  the  readiness  with  which 
we  open  our  doors  to  you.  Had  I  known  you  were  here  and  desirous 
of  visiting  the  post  for  any  purpose  in  the  interests  of  your  paper,  I 
should  have  found  means  to  welcome  you  before,  and  am  only  sorry  your 
did  not  make  your  presence  known  to  me." 

Major  Kenyon  had  risen  as  the  colonel  was  speaking,  and  now  in 
low  tone  and  with  much  respect  of  manner  accosted  him  : 

"  By  your  leave,  colonel,  if  there  be  nothing  further  in  the  way  of 
business,  may  I  request  your  permission  to  retire?" 

"  Certainly,  Major  Kenyon. — And,  gentlemen,  there  were  some 
matters  to  which  I  desired  to  call  your  attention,  but  it  is  so  near  time 
for  '  boots  and  saddles,'  we  will  defer  the  matter  until  to-morrow.  I 
will  not  detain  you  further." 

There  were  one  or  two  among  the  score  of  officers  present  who  de- 
sired to  see  the  colonel  on  some  routine  matters  ;  these  contented  them- 
selves with  going  over  to  the  adjutant's  desk,  as  he  entered,  and  whis- 
pering their  requests  to  him  ;  the  others  promptly  took  their  leave  and 
sauntered  out  into  the  sunshine.  Mr.  Abrams  noted  the  occurrence 
with  a  quiet  but  suggestive  smile. 

For  a  moment  no  one  among  the  little  group  seemed  to  find  any- 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  'J'J'J 

thing  to  say.     It  was  Mr.  Lee  who  gave  the  first  expression  to  personal 
opinion.     He  burst  out  into  a  fit  of  laughter. 

"  I'm  blessed  if  I  can  see  anything  to  laugh  about  in  this  affair, 
Mr.  Lee,"  said  the  major,  whose  face  was  a  shade  moodier  than  ever. 
"  If  anything  was  needed  to  confirm  what  I  have  hitherto  said  on  the 
subject,  here  you  have  it.  Perhaps  it  pleases  you  to  see  a  comrade 
vilified  by  the  press  and  then  bulldozed  by  his  commanding  officer,  who 
well  knows  the  paper  lied,  but  daren't  stand  up  for  one  of  his  subal- 
terns. And  then  to  think  of  the  fellow's  impudence,  announcing  him- 
self as  the  bearer  of  an  order  from  head-quarters !  If  I  had  been  in 
command  I  should  have  told  him  orders  were  never  sent  by  the  hand 
of  civilians." 

"  Sail  into  the  paper,  if  you  like,  Major  Kenyon,  but  leave  the 
colonel  alone ;  that's  purely  our  business,"  was  the  prompt  reply. — 
"  Captain  Lane,  may  I  ask  if  the  colonel  has  requested  an  invitation  to 
dinner  to-night  for  his  friend  Mr.  Abrams,  of  Chicago?  I  understand 
that  Mrs.  Morris  and  the  chief  are  among  your  guests." 

"  He  hasn't  yet,  Lee,  and,  if  he  should,  the  quartermaster  will  have 
to  knock  down  a  partition,  for  my  dining-room  can  only  hold  twelve  or 
fourteen  by  severe  squeezing." 

"  Captain,"  said  Hearn,  as  they  walked  away,  "  I'm  going  to  ask 
you  to  excuse  me  to-night.  I  would  only  be  a  cloud  at  your  feast,  and 
after  what  has  passed  I  don't  feel  as  though  I  could  sit  at  dinner  with 
the  colonel." 

"Hearn,  my  boy,  you  must  come.  We  are  not  going  to  let  you 
crawl  into  a  corner  now  and  brood  over  this.  It  is  the  very  time  when 
we  want  to  stand  by  you  and  siiow  how  much  we  hold  you  in  esteem." 

"  Yes,"  was  the  bitter  reply,  "  yes,  my  colonel  has  given  a  glorious 
exhibition  of  what  constitutes  esprit  de  corps  in  the  Eleventh.  No, 
captain,  I  would  do  anything  for  you  or  Mrs.  Lane,  but  I  can  think, 
speak,  dream,  of  nothing  now  but  the  wrong  that  has  been  done  me, 
and  I  would  only  be  a  drag.     You  will  excuse  me,  won't  you  ?" 

"  Come  in,  come  into  the  house,  Hearn,"  answered  Lane,  as  they 
reached  the  gate.  "  Come  in  and  talk  it  over  with  Mrs.  Lane  and  Miss 
Marshall ;  they  will  do  you  good.  They  are  both  full  of  sympathy. 
Come;  it's  quarter  of  an  hour  before  drill." 

But  Hearn  shook  his  head  and  drew  away. 

"  I  cannot,"  he  said ;  "  I  must  go ;  there's  my  home  letter  yet 
unwritten." 

And  so,  with  Lane's  anxious  eyes  following  him,  he  strode  rapidly 
away  to  his  quarters.     There  Jim  Wallace  joined  him  at  the  gate. 

Three  hours  later,  however,  with  drill  over  and  the  mail  in,  the 
question  of  dinner  became  of  minor  importance.  Marked  copies  of  the 
Palladium  had  been  received  by  several  officers,  and  the  faces  of  the 
group  on  Captain  Lane's  piazza  were  studies. 

"Did  the  orderly  take  one  to  him,  do  you  know?"  asked  Mr.  Lee, 
with  a  world  of  pent-up  indignation  in  his  tone. 

"  One  !"  answered  the  major;  "one!  the  insult  wouldn't  be  com- 
plete without  it.  I  think  there  were  a  dozen  papers,  marked  copies,  in 
his  name." 


778  -4-^  ARMF  PORTIA. 

"  Has  no  oue  gone  to  see  him  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Lane,  her  sweet  face 
full  of  sorrow. 

"  The  captain  was  there  when  the  mail  came ;  so  was  Mr.  Wallace," 
answered  Miss  Marshall,  in  low  tones.  "  He  seemed  to  anticipate 
something  of  the  kind." 

"  This  will  have  a  tendency  to  make  Hearn  rather  homesick,  I 
fancy,"  drawled  Martin,  after  a  solemn  pause.  "  I  never  quite  appre- 
ciated the  benefit  of  Southern  institutions  before." 

"  Sick,  I  admit, — sick  at  heart,  sick  of  his  cherished  profession, 
perhaps ;  but  why  homesick,  Martin  ?"  queried  the  major. 

"  Oh,  only  because  down  South  they  shoot  a  man  who  publishes  an 
outrageous  slander  like  that,  and  the  jury  brings  in  a  verdict  of  justifi- 
able homicide." 

IX. 

The  afternoon  was  lovely  and  full  of  sunshine.  Thanks  to  the 
startling  and  sensational  disclosures  in  the  Palladium,  the  post  had  be- 
come an  object  of  unusual  interest  to  the  surrounding  populace,  and, 
as  the  hour  for  dress-parade  approached,  vehicles  of  every  description 
came  streaming  across  the  bridge,  and  before  the  trumpet  sounded 
"  first  call"  the  road  in  front  of  the  officers'  quarters  was  well  filled 
with  carriages,  buggies,  carry-alls,  and  light  wagons,  while  some  enter- 
prising livery-stable-keeper  had  fitted  up  a  few  open  stages  and  pla- 
carded them  with  inscriptions  setting  forth  that  ''  To  the  Fort  and  back 
oidy  a  quarter"  was  a  luxury  now  within  the  reach  of  everybody. 

The  populace  was  beginning  to  gather  as  the  cavalry  officers  came 
sauntering  back  from  the  stables,  and  Mr.  Abrams,  of  Chicago,  again 
alighted  from  his  buggy  with  an  air  that  fully  conveyed  his  apprecia- 
tion of  the  fact  that  he  was  the  popular  hero  of  the  moment, — the 
daring  journalist  who  had  bearded  the  lion  in  his  den,  had  publicly 
denounced  the  brutality  of  these  arrogant  wearers  of  straps  and  swords, 
and  had  even  brought  to  the  bar  of  justice  one  of  their  number.  There 
was  the  utmost  curiosity  to  see  the  representative  of  the  Palladium,  and 
that  eminent  journalist,  true  to  his  principles  of  conforming  with  the 
views  and  wishes  of  the  public,  graciously  accorded  every  opportunity. 
It  was  in  passing  this  gentleman,  surrounded  by  a  gaping  party  of 
Central  citizens,  that  the  colonel  somewhat  ostentatiously  called  out, 
"Orderly,  give  my  compliments  to  the  adjutant,  and  say  that,  in 
view  of  the  presence  of  so  many  gentlemen  and  ladies  from  town,  I 
desire  him  to  have  the  band  ordered  out  at  once,"  and  went  on  his  way 
amidst  such  audible  evidences  of  popular  approval  as,  "  Ah !  that's 
business !"  "  Ain't  he  a  Jim  Dandy  ?"  "  That's  my  candidate  for 
Brigadier !"  "  He  ain't  no  stuck-up  second  lieutenant !"  And  the  poor 
devils  of  bandsmen,  just  seating  themselves  at  their  su})per  of  hot 
potato-stew  and  coffee,  were  compelled  to  drop  the  savory  bowls,  and 
hastily  button  their  full  uniforms  over  their  anything-but-full  stomachs 
and  march  forth  upon  the  parade  to  entertain  the  populace  until  the 
rest  of  the  show  was  ready.  If  but  now  an  apoplectic  stroke  were  to 
create  a  vacancy  among  the  brigadiers,  Morris's  star  might  indeed  be 
in  the  ascendant. 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  779 

It  had  been  the  custom  of  the  ladies  at  Captain  Lane's  to  appear 
on  the  piazza  about  the  time  that  the  officers  came  up  from  evening 
stables,  and,  reinforced  by  the  W bartons,  next  door,  and  sometimes  by 
other  fair  ones,  to  serve  a  fragrant  cup  of  tea  to  such  of  their  regi- 
mental friends  as  had  time  to  drop  in.  To-day,  too,  the  cosey  little 
tables  had  been  set  upon  the  veranda,  but  the  close  proximity  of  the 
southwest  gate,  through  which  all  the  teams  came  driving  in,  and  the 
rude  stares  of  the  occupants  of  the  various  vehicles,  speedily  drove  the 
ladies  away ;  and  Sam  Ling,  the  Chinaman,  an  old  retainer  of  Lane's, 
was  busily  carrying  the  pretty  china  within-doors  again  and  lamenting  in 
voluble  "pidgin"  the  coating  of  dust  which  had  been  received,  when 
the  captain  walked  by,  with  Hearn  at  his  side.  In  vain  Mrs.  Lane 
called  to  him  from  the  door-way  to  bring  in  any  one  who  would  come. 
He  shook  his  head  and  walked  on,  talking  gravely  and  earnestly  with 
his  younger  friend.  Miss  Marshall,  standing  at  the  window,  noted 
the  inexpressible  sadness  and  distress  in  Hearn's  once  buoyant,  hand- 
some face.  He  had  grown  years  older  in  one  day,  she  thought ;  all 
the  color  had  fled  from  his  sun-tanned  cheeks,  and  the  light  from  his 
brave  blue  eyes ;  yet  there  was  a  gleam  in  them,  as  he  bent  his  head  to 
talk  with  his  friend  the  captain,  that  spoke  of  the  smouldering  fire 
within.  She  had  thought  him  grossly  wronged  in  the  occurrences  of 
the  previous  day,  but  it  was  the  coming  of  the  Palladium  on  the  noon 
train  that  capped  the  climax.  Omitting  all  the  ingenious  and  alluring 
head-lines,  condensing  the  sensational  details  in  which  the  correspond- 
ent had  worked  up  the  case.  Lieutenant  Hearn  stood  accused  before  the 
whole  United  States  of  having  forcibly  ejected  from  the  reservation  a 
higlily-respectable  business-man  who  had  vainly  importuned  him  to 
pay  the  sum  he  for  years  had  owed  the  estate  of  the  former  post  trader, 
"  most  of  it  borrowed  money  to  help  him  out  of  gambling  scrapes," 
and  had  at  last  ventured  to  press  his  claim  in  person,  only  to  be  met 
with  outrage  and  insult.  There  could  be  no  doubt  of  the  truth,  said 
the  correspondent :  the  books  were  open  to  the  whole  world,  if  need  be, 
and  the  sum  involved  exceeded  five  hundred  dollars. 

Georgia  Marshall,  gazing  at  the  pair  from  the  lace-draped  window, 
clasped  her  shapely  white  hands  in  deep  perplexity.  The  slander,  the 
scandal,  the  wrong,  was  spread  world-wide ;  a  refutation  could  never 
overtake  it,  even  with  the  proofs  of  utter  innocence  at  hand,  and  where 
were  they  ? 

It  was  some  comfort  at  least  that  he  should  look  up,  and,  as  though 
in  search  of  one  friendly  face,  search  the  window  with  his  sad  blue 
eyes.  He  should  feel  that,  no  matter  what  the  press  might  say  and 
the  Jews  might  swear  to,  more  than  one  among  his  friends  believed  in 
him  through  thick  and  thin.  Her  dark  eyes  were  full  of  sorrow  and 
sympathy,  and  yet  flashing  with  scorn  of  his  defamer.  And  it  was 
this  picture  of  her  face,  framed  by  those  shimmering  curtains  and  by 
the  trailing,  twining  tendrils  of  smilax  that  hung  thickly  about  the 
window,  that  suddenly  met  his  troubled  gaze,  and  that  he  carried  in 
his  memory  day  and  night  long,  long  after. 

Half  an  hour  later  the  orderly  came  hurrying  to  Captain  Lane's 
quarters  with  a  note,  and  then  ran  on  down  to  the  stables. 


780  ^N  ARMY  PORTIA. 

"  This  will  settle  the  question  for  you,  Mabel,"  said  Lane,  who  was 
getting  into  parade  uniform.  "Colonel  Lawler  comes  on  the  sunset 
train,  and  Colonel  Morris  writes  to  know  whether  we  cannot  excuse 
him,  or  whether,  perchance,  there  should  be  room  for  one  more." 

"  Oh,  Fred,  and  we've  got  to  say  yes,  for  Mr.  Hearn  won't  come," 
answered  Mrs.  Mabel,  with  grief  in  her  eyes.  "We've  got  to  say, 
'  Bring  him  by  all  means ;'  and  yet  how  I  hate  to  have  our  pretty 
dinner  spoilt !     If  the  train  could  only  be  late  !" 

"  That  would  spoil  it  still  more,  Mabel,  for  then  your Oh  !" 

said  the  captain,  suddenly  recollecting  himself,  and  turning  back  to 
his  particular  little  shaving-mirror,  before  which  he  began  busily 
arranging  the  loop  of  his  gold  helmet  cord. 

"  For  then  ?"  exclaimed  pretty  Mrs.  Lane,  speeding  across  the 
space  between  her  toilet-table  and  her  liege-lord's  shaving- corner,  and 
laying  her  white  hands  upon  his  shoulder-knots  and  gazing  up  into  his 

half-averted  face  with  sparkling  eyes, — "  For  then,  you  dear  old 

You  haven't  sent  East  for  flowers  ?" 

"  Perhaps  it  was  some  other  fellow,  then,"  said  the  captain,  du- 
biously. 

"Oh,  Fred,  you  darling!  I  hadn't  hoped  for  anything  half  so 
lovely.  Will  they  be  here  on  this  train,  really?  That's  M'hy  you 
didn't  want  dinner  served  until  so  late,  was  it?  Georgia  and  I  were 
saying,  just  now,  if  we  only  had  a  few  flowers  the  table  would  be 
perfect.  I  must  run  and  tell  her."  And  impulsively  she  raised  her 
soft  lips  to  his  face  and  kissed  him  enthusiastically.  "  You  are  so 
thoughtful,  Fred !" 

"  Very,"  he  responded,  with  much  gravity  of  mien.  "And  that's 
what  prompted  me  to  suggest  to  your  ladyship  the  propriety  of  throwing 
a  wrapper  over  those  snowy  shoulders.  The  orderly  has  left  the  hall 
door  open,  and  all  Central  City  seems  out  here  to-night.  There  goes  the 
'  assembly,'  and  your  train  should  be  here  in  fifteen  minutes.  I  suppose 
I  can  tell  the  colonel  as  he  drives  past  on  the  way  down  to  meet  him  ?" 

Ordinarily  the  announcement  of  the  advent  of  some  such  high  func- 
tionary as  the  judge-advocate  of  the  division  would  have  been  quite 
sufficient  to  induce  the  colonel  to  turn  over  the  command  at  parade  to 
Major  Kenyon  and  to  go  forthwith  to  meet  the  coming  man.  But 
here  was  the  elite  of  Central  City,  as  well  as  a  strong  delegation  of  the 
masses,  gathered  to  see  the  garrison,  and  Morris  particularly  prided 
himself  upon  the  soldierly  grace  and  style  with  which  he  presided  at 
the  most  stately  ceremony  of  the  military  day.  If  he  were  to  fail  to 
appear  at  the  head  of  his  troops,  if  all  that  line  of  officers  were  to 
march  to  the  front  and  salute  Major  Kenyon  instead  of  him,  people 
might  really  get  the  idea  that  it  was  the  infantry  field-officer  who  was 
the  post  commander,  not  himself.  No.  In  all  the  yellow  radiance  of 
his  cavalry  plumage  Morris  strode  forth  from  his  veranda  and  stood 
revealed  in  the  rays  of  the  westering  sini.  His  orderly  ha.  tened 
through  the  groups  on  the  gravelled  road  in  front,  and,  halting,  raised 
his  hand  in  picturesque  salute,  the  eyes  of  Central  City  looking  on  : 

"  The  colonel's  messages  are  delivered,  and  the  carriage  will  be  at 
the  station." 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  781 

"  Very  well,  Brooks.  Now  you  yourself  go  clown  and  be  on  the 
lookout  for  Colonel  Lawler,  a  tall,  sandy-haired,  sandy-bearded  man, 
rather  slender,  nearly  sixty  years  of  age ;  report  to  him,  and  get  his 
baggage  into  the  wagonette  and  bring  him  here  to  ray  quarters,  and 
say  that  I  would  have  met  him,  but  was  detained  at  parade." 

Again  the  orderly  saluted,  then  faced  about  and  strode  away  through 
the  swarm  of  curious  eyes  which  followed  him  a  moment,  then  turned 
once  more  upon  the  gorgeous  and  gleaming  proportions  of  the  warrior 
putting  on  his  wiiite  leather  gloves  and  buttoning  them  at  the  wrist 
with  much  deliberation.  Mrs.  Morris  being  in  her  own  room  arraying 
herself  for  the  Lane  dinner-party,  and  the  veranda  being  vacant,  he 
then  called  to  his  adjutant,  who  came  along  the  pathway  at  the  moment, 
a  vision  of  floating  yellow  plume  and  brilliant  aiguillette,  and  after  a 
moment's  conversation  with  his  chief  that  young  gentleman  made  his 
way  to  where  a  couple  of  town  carriages  were  drawn  up  along  the 
edge  of  the  parade  and  presented  the  colonel's  compliments  to  the  occu- 
pants, the  ladies  of  the  postmaster's  and  leading  banker's  households, 
inviting  them  to  bring  their  friends  and  come  and  sit  on  his  piazza. 
Mr.  Abrams,  of  Chicago,  who  was  at  the  moment  the  centre  of  a  knot 
of  men,  young  and  old,  quitted  their  society,  and,  with  his  customary 
deliberation,  sauntered  over,  opened  the  colonel's  gate,  and  with  careless 
ease  of  manner  accosted  that  official,  "  Fine  evening,  colonel,"  and 
then  lowered  himself  into  the  nearest  chair  just  as  the  officer,  with  a 
face  that  flushed  unmistakably,  excused  himself,  passed  him  by,  and 
hastened  down  the  steps  to  greet  the  entering  ladies,  while  the  adjutant, 
hurrying  on  to  where  his  sergeant-major  was  awaiting  him  at  the 
edge  of  the  greensward,  signalled  the  band,  and  the  stirring  notes  of 
"adjutant's  call,"  followed  by  the  burst  of  martial  strains  in  swing- 
ing six-eight  time^  heralded  the  coming  of  the  troops  of  the  whole 
command. 

Company  after  company,  the  cavalry  from  the  west,  the  infantry 
from  the  east  end  of  the  quadrangle  came  marching  forth  upon  the 
level  green  carpet,  seemingly  intermingling  in  confusion  as  they  neared 
the  centre,  yet  unerringly  and  unhesitatingly  marching  onward,  until 
presently,  with  the  solid  blue-and-white  battalion  in  the  centre,  and 
with  the  yellow-plumed  helmets  of  the  cavalry  jiarading  afoot  on  both 
flanks,  the  long  statuesque  line  stretched  nearly  half-way  across  the 
longest  axis  of  the  quadrangle.  Company  after  company  the  white- 
gloved  hands  clasped  in  front  of  each  man  as  its  commander  ordered, 
"  Parade  rest/'  and  Colonel  Morris  himself,  who  had  with  much  delib- 
erate dignity  of  manner  marched  out  in  front  of  the  centre,  now  stood 
in  solitary  state  with  folded  arms  and  glanced  quickly  along  the  mo- 
tionless line,  while  back  of  him  some  thirty  yards,  all  along  the  edge 
of  the  parade,  in  buggies,  carry-alls,  'busses,  in  long  sombre  rank  afoot, 
Central  City  looked  admiringly  on.  For  a  moment  the  main  interest 
seemed  to  centre  on  Lieutenant  Hearn,  and  fingers  could  be  seen 
pointed,  and  voices  heard  announcing,  "  That's  him,"  as  he  stood,  tall 
and  erect,  in  front  of  the  troop  he  was  commanding  in  old  Blauvelt's 
absence. 

With  flourish  of  trumpets  and  three  resounding  ruffles  the  band 


782  ^^"  ARMY  PORTIA. 

swept  out  from  the  right  front,  and  then  all  eyes  were  suddenly  greeted 
by  an  unaccustomed  sight.  On  the  troops,  long  schooled  in  military 
etiquette,  the  effect  was  not  at  the  time  apparent, — neither  by  word  nor 
sign  was  there  indication  that  anything  unusual  had  occurred ;  but  in 
the  populace,  long  accustomed  to  individual  visits  to  the  fort  and  to 
observation  of  its  military  requirements,  "  Keep  oif  the  grass"  and  by 
no  means  intrude  upon  the  space  reserved  for  military  exercises,  the 
sensation  was  immediate.  Elbowing  his  way  through  the  crowd  stand- 
ing at  the  edge  of  the  parade-ground,  with  cigar  tip-tilted  in  his 
mouth,  his  light  spring  overcoat  thrown  back,  with  the  same  cool  delib- 
eration that  characterized  all  his  movements  the  representative  of  the 
Palladium  sauntered  forth  upon  the  sacred  precincts,  and,  never  hesi- 
tating until  he  had  almost  reached  the  commanding  officer,  presently 
came  to  a  species  of  "  parade  rest"  of  his  own,  half  sitting  on  the 
backs  of  his  hands,  which  were  supported  on  the  knob  of  his  massive 
cane,  and  there  coolly  surveyed  the  proceedings  from  the  very  spot 
reserved  for  the  adjutant,  one  yard  to  the  rear  and  three  to  the  left 
of  the  commanding  officer. 

Some  of  the  soldiers  in  ranks,  unable  to  repress  their  merriment  at 
the  sight  of  so  unusual  a  breach  of  etiquette,  could  not  refrain  from 
tittering.  The  voices  of  the  file-closers  could  almost  be  heard  in  stern, 
low-toned  reproach  :  "  Stop  that  laughing.  Murphy !"  "  Quiet,  there, 
Duffy  !"  Morris  himself  could  see  that  something  unusual  was  going 
on,  but,  totally  unconscious  that  his  own  official  precincts  were  the 
scene  of  the  solecism,  never  changed  his  position,  but  stood  there 
statuesque,  soldierly,  and  precise,  all  unconscious  of  his  self-appointed 
staff-officer  slouching  behind  him.  As  for  Mr.  Abrams,  happy  in  the 
conviction  that  the  people  could  not  but  look  on  and  envy  the  proud 
prominence  of  the  representative  of  the  press,  he  appeared  to  have  no 
other  care  than  that  of  the  criticism  due  the  public  of  the  martial 
exercises  now  taking  place.  That  it  was  probably  the  colonel's  inten- 
tion to  make  a  speech  of  some  kind  to  his  men,  Mr.  Abrams  did  not 
doubt,  and  that  the  Palladium  should  have  every  word  of  it  he  fully 
intended. 

The  band  by  this  time  was  hammering  half-way  down  the  line,  and 
the  officer  of  the  day,  coming  suddenly  in  the  northwest  gate  from  a 
visit  to  the  guard,  became  aware  that  something  was  exciting  the  mer- 
riment of  the  few  men  on  the  verandas  of  the  cavalry  quarters,  and 
then  caught  sight  of  this  strange  figure  out  on  the  parade.  He  looked 
hurriedly  about  in  search  of  the  colonel's  orderly,  but  Brooks,  as  we 
have  seen,  had  already  gone  on  his  mission  to  the  station.  Not  a  soul 
was  there  to  whom  he  could  intrust  the  duty,  yet  he  knew  he  could  not 
allow  such  a  breach  of  military  propriety  to  occur  right  under  his  eyes. 
There  seemed  no  help  for  it;  he  had  to  go  himself;  and,  by  no  means 
liking  his  duty.  Captain  Cross,  of  the  infantry,  hastened  out  on  the 
parade,  and  with  the  eyes  of  both  lines  upon  him,  though  the  heads 
of  the  troops  remained  scrupulously  fixed  to  the  front,  lie  stepped  up 
to  Mr.  Abrams,  tapped  him  on  the  shoulder,  and  civilly  said, — 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  but  no  one  is  allowed  on  the  parade- 
ground.     I  shall  have  to  trouble  you  to  fall  back  to  the  road-way." 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  783 

Mr.  Abrams  looked  angrily  around.  What !  Be  compelled  to 
quit  his  position  ? — to  fall  back  in  humiliation  before  all  those  people 
and  meekly  take  his  station  among  them,  and  actually  to  have  to  con- 
fess that,  after  all,  a  newspaper  mau  wasn't  the  monarch  of  all  he 
surveyed  ?     Never ! 

"  I'm  here  in  the  interests  of  the  journal  I  represent,  and  I  have 
full  authority  from  the  commanding  general  to  inspect  anything  at  this 
post,"  was  his  instant  answer,  accompanied  by  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders 
and  an  ugly  scowl. 

"  I  cannot  help  that,"  was  Cross's  cool  yet  civil  reply.  "You  can 
see  just  as  well  from  the  edge  of  the  parade,  and  here  you  will  be  in 
the  way." 

"  I  can't  see  it  clear  back  there,  and  I  mean  to  stay  where  I  can  see 
and  hear.  If  there's  anything  I  don't  understand,  I  wish  to  be  where 
Colonel  Morris  can  explain." 

Thanks  to  the  banging  of  the  band,  all  this  was  inaudible  to  the 
colonel,  who  remained  in  blissful  ignorance  of  the  colloquy  taking 
place  so  near  him. 

"  You  cannot  stay  here,  sir,"  was  the  firm,  low-toned  answer.  "  I 
will  take  pains  to  explain  everything  to  you  after  you  retire  some  twenty 
yards,  but  I  trust  you  will  not  make  it  necessary  for  me  to  be  more 
imperative.     Come,  sir." 

And  so,  with  the  worst  possible  grace,  Mr.  Abrams  had  to  give 
ground,  and,  accompanied  by  the  officer  of  the  day,  fall  back  to  tiie 
general  throng.  To  cover  his  mortification  as  much  as  possible,  Cross, 
in  a  smiling  and  courteous  manner,  went  on  to  explain  the  purpose 
and  details  of  the  parade.  But  Abrams  only  turned  angrily  away. 
Twice  he  essayed  to  stop  and  face  about,  but  Cross  was  getting  his 
blood  up  by  this  time,  and  determinedly  marched  along  to  the  very 
edge  of  the  tittering  line  of  towns-people,  and  there,  raising  his  cap, 
said,  with  the  utmost  civility, — 

"And  now,  sir,  if  I  can  be  of  the  faintest  assistance  in  making 
this  ceremony  clear  to  you,  command  me.  You  will  observe  that  the 
adjutant  is  coming  out  to  occupy  the  very  position  you  were  in." 

But  Mr,  Abrams  was  in  the  sulks,  as  was  to  be  expected,  and  still 
more  wrathfully  turned  his  back,  refusing  to  listen,  so  that  Cross 
promptly  left  him  to  his  own  devices.  The  representative  of  the 
Palladium  had  sense  enough  not  to  attempt  to  resume  his  place,  but 
he  had  lost  interest  in  the  performance  simultaneously  with  his  own 
loss  of  prestige  among  the  crowd,  and  so,  after  a  moment's  wavering, 
he  turned  about,  and  shouldered  his  sullen  way  toward  his  buggy, 
only  stopping  long  enough  to  inquire  of  a  civilian  the  name  of  the 
officer. 

"  Cross,  eh  ?  Captain  Cross.  Sure  of  that,  are  you  ?  All  right ; 
I'll  fix  him,"  he  growled  between  his  set  teeth  as  he  strode  away. 

When  a  few  moments  later  the  long  line  of  officers  halted  in  front 
of  the  colonel  and  raised  their  hands  in  simultaneous  salute,  he  re- 
sponded with  something  less  than  his  customary  graceful  deliberation, 
and  inquired, — 

"  What  on  earth  was  going  on  there,  that  there  was  so  much  gig- 


784  ^-^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

gliug  in  ranks?  It  was  mainly  in  front  of  you,  Mr.  Martin.  Have 
you  been  attempting  any  witticisms,  sir?" 

"Not  that  I  can  now  recall,  colonel,"  responded  Martin,  with  his 
usual  drawl.  "  Possibly  the  appearance  of  our  Chicago  friend  in  the 
role  of  adjutant  was  what  prompted  their  merriment.  If  you  invited 
him  to  accompany  you,  I  trust  you  will  excuse  it." 

"  Whom  do  you  mean,  and  what  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  Why,  Mr.  Abrams  took  post  on  your  left  and  rear,  sir,  until 
Cross  invited  him  elsewhere.  I'm  sorry  for  Cross  :  he  has  a  wife  and 
family,  and  yonder  goes  the  gentleman,  bound  for  the  telegraph-office, 
no  doubt.     What  won't  the  Palladium  say  now  ?" 

"You  don't  mean  he  was  right  here  by  me  during  parade?"  said 
Morris,  growing  very  red. 

"  Certainly,  sir,"  spoke  Captain  Brodie.  "  You  could  have  smelt 
his  cioar  if  the  wind  hadn't  been  blowing  from  the  stables." 

But  the  appearance  of  the  wagonette  whirling  into  garrison  with 
the  tall  form  of  Colonel  Lawler,  a  dust-colored  figure  from  the  crown 
of  his  felt  hat  down  to  his  very  boots,  put  an  end  to  further  remarks. 
Morris  hastened  to  meet  his  guest,  merely  nodding  response  to  Lane's 
courteous  invitation  to  bring  him  to  dinner. 

X. 

Captain  Lane's  quarters,  as  has  been  said,  were  charmingly  furnished, 
and  adorned  with  attractive  pictures  and  bric-a-brac.  The  dining-room 
was  small,  as  dining-rooms  generally  are  in  army  garrisons,  but  by  dint 
of  moving  out  the  stove  which  until  now  had  cumbered  one  corner,  and 
then  crowding  the  sideboard  into  its  place,  sufficient  room  had  been 
gained  to  admit  of  extending  the  table  diagonally  and  seating  fourteen 
people  thereat.  And  now,  with  the  curtains  drawn,  but  the  soft  even- 
ing breeze  playing  through  the  open  casement  and  the  broad  hall- 
way, in  the  soft  yet  brilliant  light  of  dozens  of  wax  candles  set  in 
sconces  on  the  walls  or  in  heavy  candelabra  on  the  damask-covered 
board,  a  merry  party  had  gathered  for  one  of  the  "lovely  dinners"  for 
which  Mrs.  Lane  was  already  famous.  Three  of  the  infantry  captains 
were  present,  wdth  their  wives.  Pretty  Jeatmette  McCrea,  who  was  visit- 
ing the  Burnhams,  was  escorted  in  by  Dr.  IngersoU,  popularly  reputed 
to  be  an  intractable  bachelor,  yet  privately  believed  to  be  melting  be- 
neath the  tenderness  of  that  young  lady's  sweet  blue  eyes;  and  Georgia 
Marshall  found  herself  sitting  vis-d-vls  with  Mrs.  Brodie,  a  somewhat 
portly  matron,  who  seemed  capable  of  imbibing  information  through 
every  pore  and  storing  it  for  further  use,  and  yet  at  the  same  time 
imparting  new  and  startling  opinions  on  all  current  topics  with  intensi- 
fied volubility.  Her  eyes  took  in  every  detail  of  the  tasteful  appoint- 
ments of  the  table.  Her  nostrils  inhaled  the  fragrance  of  the  roses  and 
carnations  lavished  on  every  hand.  Her  lips  parted  to  receive  the 
succulent  little  clam — rare  and  unaccustomed  luxury  west  of  the  Mis- 
souri, yet  easily  expressed  from  St.  Louis — and  to  give  utterance  at  the 
same  instant  to  liveliest  comments  upon  the  unusual  feature  of  that 
evening's  parade.     It  was  not  until  after  soup  and  the  tiny  thimbleful 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  785 

of  sherry  that  audible  conversation  seemed  to  extend  beyond  her,  and 
then  Miss  Marshall,  who  had  been  endeavoring  to  entertain  Captain 
Brodie  and  distract  his  mind  from  contemplation  of  his  better  half's 
undaunted  conversational  powers,  found  herself  addressed  by  the  gentle- 
man on  her  right  : 

"And  so  you  are  from  Cincinnati,  Miss  Marshall,  and  paying  your 
first  visit  to  the  West?     Now,  what  do  you  think  of  the  army?" 

"  Pardon  me.  Colonel  Lawler,  but  isn't  that  a  trifle  like  the  query 
we  are  said  to  propound  to  Englishmen  who  have  just  landed? — How 
do  you  like  America  ?" 

"But  I  inferred  that  you  had  been  here  long  enough  to  form  an 
opinion." 

"  To  form  one  vaguely,  perhaps,  but  probably  not  long  enough  to 
subject  it  to  the  test  of  experience." 

"  And  do  you  never  express  opinions  until  assured  of  their  justice? 
Really,  Miss  Marshall,  I  must  compliment  you  on  such  wisdom  and 
discretion.     You  should  have  been  a  lawyer." 

.  "  Yes,  colonel  ? — and  that,  I  understand,  is  your  profession.     Now 
I  am  indeed  complimented." 

Colonel  Lawler's  eyes  had  been  wandering  about  the  table  as  he 
spoke,  but  now  he  turned  suddenly  and  suspiciously  upon  the  girl  at 
his  side.  He  was  a  man  of  singular  mental  mould.  He  had  l)een  a 
clerk  in  the  office  of  his  uncle,  a  prominent  lawyer  in  the  distant  East ; 
had  had  merely  a  common-school  education,  and  was  laboriously  read- 
ing law,  when  his  patron  found  himself  suddenly  called  upon  to  assume 
responsible  duties  at  the  national  capital,  and  hastened  thither,  taking 
his  clerk  with  him.  Lawler  at  that  time  was  nearly  thirty-five,  and 
had  not  yet  been  called  to  the  bar.  It  was  the  third  year  of  the  great 
war.  His  patron  soon  found  that  the  requirements  of  his  office  were 
such  that  a  man  of  far  higher  attainments  would  be  needed  as  secretary, 
and,  being  thrifty  and  unwilling  to  pay  the  salary  of  a  clerk  out  of  his 
own  pocket,  he  decided  on  the  not  unusual  expedient  of  shunting  him 
off  on  a  paternal  government.  Lawler  had  no  idea  whatever  of  enter- 
ing the  army  as  one  of  the  fighting  force,  but  the  proposition  of  his 
uncle  was  almost  dazzling.  He  wasn't  much  of  a  lawyer,  to  be  sure, 
but  quite  good  enough  for  the  purpose,  said  the  old  gentleman  to  him- 
self. And  so  it  resulted  that  the  green  New-Englander  was  transferred 
to  a  clerkship  in  the  bureau  of  military  justice,  and  speedily  blossomed 
out  as  a  major  and  judge-advocate  of  volunteers,  with  station  in  the  city 
of  Washington.  The  first  thing  the  excellent  fellow  did,  after  getting 
his  uniform  and  sword,  was  to  post  off  to  the  Granite  State  and  marry 
the  middle-aged  maiden  who  for  ten  years  had  been  patiently  waiting 
the  day  when  he  could  accumulate  enough  money  to  buy  a  little  home, 
and,  with  his  bride,  he  returned  to  honest  toil  at  the  department.  No 
man  ever  worked  harder  to  master  the  details  of  unaccustomed  duties, 
and  no  man,  probably,  ever  encountered  greater  difficulties.  But  such 
was  his  perseverance  that  he  became  a  walking  glossary  of  information 
on  army  legal  affairs.  It  was  not  that  he  ever  mastered  the  niceties  of 
martial  jurisprudence,  but  he  knew  the  inside  history  of  every  case  that 
came  up  for  trial  in  the  bulky  records  of  the  bureau.  He  could  quote 
Vol.  XLVI— 51 


786  ^N  ARMY  PORTIA. 

the  charges  and  specifications  preferred  against  any  and  every  officer, 
the  findings  of  the  court,  the  names  of  the  principal  witnesses,  of  the 
judge-advocate  and  the  members,  and  little  by  little  the  seniors  in  the 
office  had  grown  so  to  lean  upon  his  memory  and  his  opinion  that  he 
became  an  almost  indispensable  feature.  And  so  when  Peace  once  more 
spread  iier  wings  over  the  troubled  walls  of  the  Capitol,  and  the  army 
was  sent  home,  and  a  chosen  few  were  retained  from  the  million  of 
volunteers  to  close  up  the  records  and  accounts  of  that  vast  establish- 
ment, the  bureau  announced  that  it  couldn't  get  along  without  Major 
Lavvler,  and  Lawler  was  shrewd  enough  to  see  his  way  to  a  life-position. 
With  the  brevet  of  lieutenant-colonel  for  faithful  and  meritorious  ser- 
vices during  a  war  in  which  he  had  not  once  heard  the  whistle  of  a 
bullet,  he  was  presently  announced  as  transferred  to  the  permanent 
establishment  and  duly  commissioned  one  of  the  array  of  officers  of  the 
regular  army. 

At  this  time  his  sole  acquaintance  with  the  gentlemen  with  whom 
his  future  lot  was  to  be  cast  was  what  he  had  derived  from  the  court- 
martial  proceedings  which  for  three  years  he  had  spent  ten  to  twelve 
hours  a  day  in  reviewing ;  and,  knowing  them  through  that  medium 
alone,  it  became  somewhat  difficult  for  him  to  estimate  them  through 
any  other  when  at  last  he  was  ordered  to  duty  at  a  far- Western  city  as 
judge-advocate  of  a  division.  He  had  been  so  many  years  within  the 
shadow  of  the  War  Department  that  army  life  in  any  other  shape  looked 
to  him  as  might  a  strange  garret  to  an  exiled  cat.  When  he  met  an 
officer  for  the  first  time  his  mind  reverted  to  the  records  which  he  had 
reviewed  :  this  was  not  the  man  who  led  the  assault  on  Bloody  Angle 
at  Spottsylvania,  who  planted  the  first  colors  on  the  heights  of  Mission 
Ridge,  who  made  the  perilous  night  ride  to  Crook  after  the  disaster 
of  the  Little  Horn,  but  the  officer  who  preferred  the  charges  against 
Colonel  Blank,  or  who  was  tried  for  duplicating  pay-accounts  at  Nash- 
ville, or  who  was  the  unwilling  witness  in  the  case  of  old  Barry  at  Fort 
Fetterman.  To  his  pragmatical  mind  every  soldier  was  a  past  or  jiros- 
pective  figurant  before  a  court-martial,  and  long  contemplation  of  in- 
numerable counts  in  the  shape  of  specifications  had  so  charged  his  mind 
with  distrust  of  his  fellow-men  that,  whatsoever  might  be  his  rank  or 
record,  no  officer  stood  so  high  as  to  be  above  sus])icion,  none  so  im- 
pregnable that,  judiciously  handled,  a  court  could  not  down  him.  "I 
consider  it  my  bounden  duty,"  he  had  once  said,  "  to  convict  an  officer 
if  I  possibly  can."  And  while  in  his  regard  an  acquittal  might  tem- 
porarily and  partially  vindicate  the  party  accused,  it  must  forever 
blight  the  fair  fame  of  the  judge-advocate  who  tried  the  case. 

Some  years  of  rubbing  had  so  far  modified  his  original  views  as  to 
teach  him  that  until  charges  were  actually  preferred  it  was  not  well  to 
look  upon  any  of  iiis  new  associates  as  actually  and  absolutely  attainted. 
But,  once  that  formality  had  been  accomplished,  jvimd  facie  evidence 
of  guilt  was  firmly  established,  and  only  with  reluctance  and  inward, 
if  not  active,  rebellion  couhl  he  bring  himself  to  accept  a  verdict  other- 
wise. Proceedings  of  courts  which  convicted  he  skimmed  through 
with  lenient  eye;  there  could  be  no  error  there.  But  when,  as  was 
his  invariable  custom,  he  glanced  at  the  findings  before  beginning  the 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  787 

review,  and  there  discovered  the  unwelcome  words  "  not  guilty,"  no 
vigilance  could  exceed  that  with  which  he  scrutinized  every  line  of  the 
record,  hoping  anywhere  to  light  upon  a  flaw.  Friends  in  the  service 
at  large  he  neither  sought  nor  made.  Secure  in  his  position,  abste- 
mious, frugal,  and  even  niggardly,  he  had  no  small  vices  on  which  to 
trip.  Life  to  him  was  one  long  contemplation  of  the  failings  of  his 
fellow-men. 

And  this  was  the  gentleman  who,  being  on  some  temporary  inves- 
tigation within  the  lines  of  the  department,  had  received  telegraphic 
orders  to  proceed  at  once  to  Ryan  and  look  into  the  matters  thus  loudly 
heralded  by  the  press.  Standing  not  upon  the  order  of  his  going,  he 
had  taken  the  first  train,  and  reached  the  post  at  nightfall,  eager  to 
begin.  It  M^as  a  source  of  positive  discomfort  to  him  to  find  that  he 
was  expected  by  the  post  commander  to  dine  at  Captain  Lane's;  but 
his  uneasiness  was  in  no  wise  due  to  the  lack  of  proper  apparel.  The 
colonel  and  the  other  officers  were  in  full  uniform,  as  was  army  custom 
then,  before  a  merciful  and  level-headed  general  authorized  the  wearing 
of  civilian  evening  dress  on  such  occasions.  But  Colonel  Lawler  was 
quite  at  ease  in  a  travelling-suit  of  rusty  tweeds.  Morris  had  offered 
the  colonel  the  use  of  his  own  dress-suit,  and  in  fact  had  rather  urged 
it,  as  due  to  Mrs.  Lane,  but  Lawler  promptly  replied  that  Mrs,  Lane 
must  have  known  when  she  asked  him  that  he  did  not  travel  around 
on  military  duty  with  a  spike-tailed  coat,  and  declared  that  he  thought 
it  all  unnecessary.  "Spike-tailed  coats  are  too  high-toned  for  me,  any- 
how. I  never  see  a  man  in  one  but  what  he  reminds  me  of  some 
butler  I've  seen  in  'Washington."  Morris  said  no  more,  but  Mrs, 
Morris  had  looked  volumes,  and  it  was  very  ruefully  indeed  that  the 
colonel  presented  his  visitor  to  their  gracious  hostess.  Dinner  was 
announced  almost  immediately,  and,  ignoring  for  the  time-being  the 
young  lady  whom  he  had  taken  in  on  his  arm,  Lawler  sat  for  some 
minutes  looking  in  no  little  surprise  about  him.  The  sight  of  so  much 
elegance  at  a  frontier  table  could  only  convey  to  his  mind  the  vague 
impression  of  peculation  in  the  past.  He  was  surprised  to  find  that 
Lane  could  have  had  no  connection  whatever  with  "cotton  cases" 
during  the  war. 

And  now  was  this  young  girl  with  the  big  dark  eyes,  looking  so 
frankly  yet  scrutinizingly  up  into  his  face,  quizzing  him  ?  The  fact 
that  for  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century  he  had  been  a  commissioned 
officer  and  was  now  high  in  rank,  if  not  in  public  esteem,  had  given 
him  a  certain  self-confidence  of  manner,  and  the  consciousness  of  being 
the  custodian  of  a  host  of  official  secrets  added  to  his  sense  of  self-im- 
portance. Yet,  small  and  suspicious  by  nature,  he  was  forever  looking 
for  some  covert  ridicule.  He  had  come  to  the  board  a  total  stranger 
to  Captain  and  Mrs.  Lane,  yet  he  felt  a  certain  sense  of  superiority  to 
them  because  he  could,  were  he  so  disposed,  tell  that  young  matron  a 
host  of  ugly  things  about  her  first  husband.  Of  Lane  himself  he 
knew  little  or  nothing  beyond  the  fact  that  the  proceedings  of  courts- 
martial  of  which  he  had  served  as  judge-advocate  were  always  correct. 
That  he  was  known  in  the  fighting  force  of  the  army  as  a  brilliant  and 
gallant  soldier,  who  had  been  through  many  a  hard  campaign  and  had 


7g8  AN  ARMY  PORTIA. 

twice  or  thrice  been  wounded,  was  of  no  avail  in  Lawler's  eyes.  That 
might  be  a  very  proper  thing  in  its  way,  but  did  not  interest  hira. 
Just  now  he  was  casting  up  in  his  mind  the  probable  cost  of  the  dainty 
feast  and  wondering  what  means  Lane  had  outside  his  pay.  Miss 
Marshall,  being  from  Cincinnati,  would  doubtless  know  something,  and 
he  proposed  to  put  her  on  the  witness-stand  forthwith,  but,  lawyer-like, 
to  lead  up  to  the  matter  by  adroit  circumlocution.  Yet  at  the  first 
clumsily-essayed  compliment  she  had  looked  up  into  his  face,  a  merry 
light  in  her  big,  dark,  scrutinizing  eyes,  and  he  became  instantly  sus- 
picious that  she  was  quizzing  him.  Lawler  reddened  at  the  very 
thought. 

"  You  seem  to  have  a  very  correct  appreciation  of  the  legal  profes- 
sion," he  said,  however,  with  an  effort  at  a  gallant  bow.  "  Most  young 
women,  I  fancy,  are  far  more  partial  to  that  of  a  soldier,  for  instance." 

"  Most  women,  you  know,  admire  courage  and  truth  and  straight- 
forwardness, colonel." 

"  And  you  mean  that  these  are  more  frequent  in  the  army — that  is, 
among  the — the  officers  of  the  line — than  in  the  legal  profession,  I 
suppose.  Now,  Miss  Marshall,  a  celebrated  chief  justice,  from  whom 
you  may  be  descended,  as  you  bear  the  same  name,  was  the  embodiment 
of  all  these  traits." 

"  And  his  mantle  fell  on  the  shoulders  of  many,  I  doubt  not,  col- 
onel ;  but — was  it  big  enough  to  go  round  ?" 

"  I'm  afraid  you're  satirical.  Miss  Marshall,"  said  Lawler,  with  a 
superior  smile.  "You  young  ladies  not  infrequently  see  only  the 
glamour  and  froth  of  army  characteristics.  We  who  have  spent  many 
years  in  the  endeavor  to  keep  the  army  straight  cannot  look  upon  the 
officers  quite  as  partially  as  you  do.  We  see  both  sides  of  the  double 
lives  led  by  so  many  of  the  '  youngsters'  in  the  line." 

"  Only  by  the  line,  colonel,  and  by  the  young  officers  ?  Then  who 
looks  after  the  staff,  and  the  elders  ?"  And  Miss  Marshall's  face  was 
bubbling  over  with  fun. 

"  They  have  stood  the  test  of  years.  Miss  Marshall,  and  need  no 
guardian,  as  do  these  young  fellows  who  so  captivate  school-girls,"  an- 
swered Lawler,  shifting  uneasily  in  his  chair.  "  Now,  Mrs.  Brodie  has 
a  mature  conception  of  their  merits  and  defects.  She  was  speaking  of 
this  very  case  of  Mr.  Hearn's  a  moment  ago. — You  seem  to  have 
known  him  quite  a  while,  Mrs.  Brodie.  Were  you  ever  stationed  to- 
gether?" 

"  My !  no,  Colonel  Lawler  :  only  one  cannot  help  hearing  things," 
answered  Mrs.  Brodie,  totally  unaware  of  the  facial  contortions  of  her 
better  half,  who  was  helplessly,  hopelessly  striving  to  catch  her  eye  and 
restrain  her  tongue.  "  Everybody  in  town  seems  to  think  he  was  such 
a  popular  young  fellow ;  only,  don't  you  know,  so  careless." 

Colonel  Morris  and  everybody  at  Mrs.  Lane's  end  of  the  table 
happened  to  be  deep  in  general  chat  at  the  moment,  and  neither  saw 
nor  heard  anything  of  this  sudden  introduction  of  personal  affairs  at 
a  social  occasion.  But  Mrs.  Morris  lost  no  time.  She  saw  Brodie's 
glowering  eyes  across  the  board  ;  she  noted  Lawler's  keen,  shrewd  gaze, 
and  the  troubled  look  that  flashed  over  Lane's  kindly  face,  and  had 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  789 

just  time  to  whisper  to  him,  "  How  can  you  ever  forgive  us  for  bring- 
ing the  man  ?  The  colonel  was  in  misery  at  the  idea.  He  said  he  knew 
he  would  be  talking  '  shop'  before  dinner  was  half  over.  I  can  check 
Mrs,  Brodie,  at  any  rate."  Then,  aloud,  "  Pardon  me,  Colonel  Lawler," 
and  now  her  face  was  wreathed  in  sweetest  smiles,  "  I'm  not  going  to 
let  Mrs.  Brodie  prejudice  you  against  one  of  my  prime  favorites." 

"Oh,  indeed,  Mrs.  Morris,"  protested  Mrs.  Brodie,  "I  wouldn't 
think  of  such  a  thing.  I  was  just  going  to  point  out  to  the  colonel  the 
very  great  diiFerence  between  what  he  might  have  been  then  and  what 
he  has  been  ever  since  he  joined  the  Eleventh." 

"  But  the  point  at  issue  seems  to  be  what  he  was  then,  as  Mrs. 
Brodie  puts  it,"  said  Lawler. 

"  But  I  wouldn't  for  the  world  have  you  suppose  I  thought  Mr. 
Hearn  had  done  anything  that  was  ungentlemanly.  I'm  only  saying 
what  rumor  was,"  burst  in  Mrs.  Brodie  again,  who  had  at  last  caught 
the  signals  on  her  husband's  face,  and  now  only  sought  to  excuse  her 
own  impetuosity,  even  though  in  so  doing  she  more  deeply  involved 
the  young  gentleman  himself.  "  I  can't  bear  to  hear  such  things  said 
of  him  without  any  one  to  defend  him ;  but  what  can  one  do  ?" 

This  was  getting  simply  unbearable.  While  all  at  the  other  end 
of  the  table  were  having  a  merry,  laughing  chat,  here  was  this  profes- 
sional investigator — an  accidental  and  by  no  means  welcome  guest — 
taking  advantage  of  the  circumstances  and  of  the  well-known  volu- 
bility of  Mrs.  Brodie  to  start  her  on  the  subject  which  called  him  to 
the  post,  and  striving  at  a  social  party  to  "  pick  up  points." 

"  By  Jove !"  muttered  Captain  Cross,  "  lie's  as  bad  as  Mr.  Abrams 
himself.  What  can  we  do  to  stop  him?  Nothing  short  of  Divine 
Providence  will  ever  stop  Mrs.  Brodie." 

But  the  desired  interposition  came.  Footsteps  were  heard  on  the 
piazza  beyond  the  hall.  The  Chinaman,  answering  the  summons  to 
the  door,  came  back,  raising  the  portiere  that  hung  heavily  over  the 
entrance,  and  handed  his  master  a  card.  Lane  took  it,  and  glanced 
quickly  at  Colonel  Lawler. 

"  If  you  will  excuse  me,"  said  the  latter,  rising  at  once,  "  these  are 
gentlemen  whom  I  telegraphed  to  meet  me,  and  I  will  save  time  by 
seeing  them  here.  I  will  just  ask  them  into  your  parlor,  Captain 
Lane."  And,  quitting  the  room,  he  passed  through  the  hall-way  and 
met  his  untimely  callers  at  the  door.  Sam  came  shuffling  back  an 
instant  after,  having  gone  to  turn  up  the  parlor  lights,  and  Miss  Mar- 
shall, glancing  over  her  left  shoulder  as  the  portiere  was  again  raised, 
saw  that  one  of  the  men  thus  introduced  beneath  the  captain's  roof  was 
the  German  Jew,  Schonberg.  Lane,  busy  in  striving  to  restore  the 
tone  of  general  chat,  did  not  see  them  at  all. 

It  was  an  hour  later.  The  ladies  had  risen  and  betaken  themselves 
to  the  front  piazza ;  the  men  remained  to  smoke  a  cigar  with  their 
host.  The  absence  of  the  legal  luminary,  oddly  enough,  had  dispelled 
the  atmosphere  of  gloom  that  hung  for  a  few  minutes  about  the  lower 
end  of  the  table.  He  and  his  strange  visitors  were  still  closeted,  so  to 
speak,  in  the  parlor,  but  now  they  came  forth.     In  some  mysterious 


790  ^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

way  every  woman  had  by  this  time  learned  that  Mr.  Schonberg  was 
there,  and  at  the  sound  of  the  opening  parlor  door  and  of  the  mel- 
lifluous accents  of  that  gentleman's  voice  they  instinctively  huddled  to 
the  other  end  of  the  piazza.  Lawler  walked  with  the  two  men  as  far 
as  the  gate,  and,  when  they  finally  disappeared  in  the  direction  of  the 
store,  came  sauntering  back  to  join  the  ladies. 

"  As  I  don't  smoke,"  he  said,  "  I  will  take  my  enjoyment  here. 
Where  shall  I  sit?" 

"  Take  this  chair.  Colonel  Lawler,"  said  Miss  Marshall,  noting  the 
aversion  with  which  all  the  others  of  the  party  had  become  inspired. 
"  May  I  send  for  coffee  for  you  ?" 

"  Miss  Marshall,  I  have  no  small  vices.  I  never  drink  anything 
stronger  than  milk ;  never  smoke ;  never  chew ;  never  swear." 

"  Never  even  swear,  colonel  ?" 

"  Never.     What  is  it  you  are  smiling  at?" 

"  Have  you  ever  read  the  works  of  Josh  Billings,  Colonel  Lawler  ?" 

"  I  have  no  time  to  waste  on  nonsense.  Miss  Marshall.  And  I 
never  could  see  anything  funny  or  witty  in  such  men  as  Billings  and 
Artemus  Ward." 

"  Well,  it  wasn't  his  fun  I  was  thinking  of  quite  so  much  just  now 
as  his  insight  into  character,"  said  the  young  lady,  musingly,  as  she 
still  gravely  looked  him  over  with  her  big  eyes. 

Two  young  officers  came  strolling  along  the  walk  at  the  moment, 
and,  passing  beneath  the  lamp,  raised  their  caps  in  salutation  to  the 
ladies.     Miss  Marshall  nodded  and  smiled  with  marked  cordiality. 

"  All  wasted,  Miss  Marshall :  they  could  not  see  it." 

"  No,  colonel,  and  I  particularly  wanted  one  of  them  at  least  to  do 
so.     Now,  that's  a  part  of  the  army  that  I  decidedly  like." 

"  Who  are  they,  may  I  ask  ?" 

"Mr.  Wallace  and  his  especial  friend,  Mr.  Hearn." 

"  And  is  it  possible  that  you  find  such  young  men  to  your  taste?  I 
gave  you  credit  for  having  rather  a  higher  standard." 

"  But  it  is  their  standard  that  I  so  much  admire.  Colonel  Lawler. 
I  don't  suppose  anything  would  tempt  either  of  those  young  men  to 
say  or  do  a  mean  or  cowardly  thing." 

"No?"  said  the  colonel,  with  a  superior  smile;  "and  yet,  do  you 
know,  I'm  ready  to  stake  my  professional  reputation  that  one  of  them 
at  least  is  quite  unworthy  your  trust  or  confidence." 

"  Now,  are  you  not  a  trifle  prejudiced,  colonel  ?  I  thought  the  law 
presumed  a  man  innocent  until  proved  guilty." 

"  Theoretically,  yes ;  practically,  men  who  have  studied  human 
nature  through  the  courts,  as  I  have  had  to,  get  to  see  through  the 
veneering  of  high  tone  that  these '  youngsters'  are  so  apt  to  assume." 

"  And  so  you  are  probably  quite  ready  to  agree  with  the  cor- 
respondent of  the  Palladium,  colonel,  that  most  officers  are  frauds, 
especially  the  second  lieutenants?" 

"  My  experience  has  certainly  not  given  me  a  high  opinion  of  the 
young  men.  Miss  Marshall." 

"  And,  now,  do  you  know,^ colonel,  my  intuition  is  very  much  in 
their  favor." 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  791 

"  But  is  your  intuitiou  as  well  founded,  do  you  think,  as  long  legal 
experience  ?" 

"  Well,  your  experience  has  been  confined  to  the  limited  few  that 
have  come  before  courts-martial,  has  it  not?  My  intuition  covers  the 
great  array  of  their  number, — the  ninety-and-nine.  Now,  I  haven't 
any  especial  knowledge  of  the  matter  you  seem  to  be  investigating. 
Colonel  Lawler,  but  I  fancy  that  evidence  such  as  Mr.  Schouberg 
might  give  would  have  little  weight  before  a  court  of  intelligent  men." 

"  You  will  change  your  mind  when  you  come  to  see  the  books, 
young  lady." 

"  Have  you  changed  yours  ?" 

"No:  they  simply  confirmed  my  judgment." 

"  Then  my  intuition  was  right,  colonel." 

''  How  so,  may  I  ask  ?" 

"It  told  me  that  you  had  prejudged  the  case." 

At  this  moment  the  officei's  came  sauntering  out  into  the  open  air, 
joining  the  group  of  ladies,  who  had  fied  back  to  the  western  end  of 
the  piazza  as  soon  as  they  saw  their  obnoxious  visitor  safely  anchored 
by  Miss  Marshall's  side. 

"  Where's  Lawler  ?"  queried  Morris,  in  no  pleasant  tone.  "  Has 
he  gone  off  with  those  fellows  ?" 

"No;  I'm  here,  colonel,  getting  a  lesson  in  law  which  this  young 
lady  is  so  good  as  to  give  me."  Miss  Marshall  flusiied  at  the  dis- 
courtesy in  his  tone,  but  gave  no  other  sign.  "  I  shall  expect  to  see 
you  appearing  in  the  role  of  counsellor  yet.  Miss  Marshall." 

"Very  well,  colonel;  if  it  ever  comes  to  that  I  shall  fall  back  on 
my  intuition." 

Miss  Marshall's  cheeks  were  still  flushed  and  her  eyes  had  a  dan- 
gerous gleam  under  tiieir  dark  and  fringing  lashes  when  she  stepped  a 
moment  after  into  the  lately-desecrated  parlor. 

*' You  appear  to  have  had  quite  a  tilt  with  our  friend  the  jndge- 
advocate,"  said  Lane,  who  had  come  in  for  more  cigars  for  his  guests. 
"  I  think  I  once  told  you  I  would  not  care  to  be  cross-examined  by 
you,  Mis^  Marshall ;  and  it  looks  as  though  he  were  not  a  little  nettled." 

"  I  hope  I  haven't  been  rude  to  a  guest  of  yours,  Captain  Lane ; 
but  that  gentleman  makes  me  wish  over  and  over  again  that  I  were  a 
man.     Did  you  know  who  his  callers  were '?" 

"I  have  just  heard,"  said  Lane. 

There  was  sudden  lull  in  the  conversation  on  the  piazza  without, 
then  the  colonel  spoke  quickly  : 

"  I  wonder  what  that  can  be.  That  fellow  yells  in  earnest,  doesn't 
he?" 

"  What  is  it?"  asked  Lane,  stepping  to  the  door. 

"Number  Eight  yelling  for  the  corporal  of  the  guard.  Yonder 
they  go." 

Captain  Cross,  who  was  officer  of  the  day,  had  quietly  picked  up 
his  sword  and  hurried  out  of  the  southwest  gate,  while  down  the  road- 
way could  be  heard  the  sound  of  rapid  foot-falls.  The  call,  however, 
was  not  repeated.  Conversation  soon  became  brisk  and  general,  and  iu 
five  minutes  Cross  came  back. 


792  ^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

"  What  was  the  matter  ?"  asked  Colonel  Morris. 

"  Some  civilians,  sir,  and  one  of  our  men,  in  a  buggy,  who  said 
they  came  out  by  order  of  the  general  commanding  the  division,  and 
had  been  detained  here  until  after  taps." 

"  Certainly ;  that's  all  right.  Those  were  doubtless  the  witnesses 
Colonel  Lawler  sent  for.  Why  wasn't  the  corporal  of  the  guard  sent 
down  with  them  toj)ass  them  out?" 

''  Their  buggy  was  tied  the  other  side  of  the  store,  sir,  and  no  one 
at  the  guard-house  could  see  them  start." 

"  Well,  the  sentry  ought  to  have  let  them  go  anyhow,  as  soon  as  he 
saw  who  they  were.     We  have  no  authority  to  hold  civilians  here." 

"  It  wasn't  the  civilians  the  sentry  was  after,  sir ;  he  was  perfectly 
willing  they  should  go  ;  but  they  had  an  enlisted  man  with  them." 

"  Who  ?"  asked  Morris,  with  uncomfortable  premonition  of  the 
answer. 

"  Private  Welsh,  sir,  of  C  troop." 

XI. 

The  week  that  followed  the  advent  at  Fort  Ryan  of  the  staff-officer 
from  division  head-quarters  was  one  that  the  good  people  at  the  post 
have  not  yet  ceased  talking  about.  Lawler  had  remained  in  the  gar- 
rison only  twenty-four  hours,  and  went  back  eastward  without  a  word 
as  to  his  intentions,  and,  to  the  surprise  of  even  Colonel  Morris,  with- 
out having  sent  for  or  spoken  to  the  man  most  interested  in  his  coming, 
— Lieutenant  Hearn.  This  in  itself  was  something  that  excited  most 
unfavorable  comment,  for  it  was  known  that  he  had  had  long  interviews 
with  Mr.  Abrams,  the  busy  representative  of  the  press,  and  that  he  had 
driven  in  town  to  spend  some  hours  in  questioning  certain  dubious- 
looking  citizens  presented  to  him  one  by  one  at  the  establishment  of 
Mr.  Schonberg.  He  had  furthermore  sent  to  the  guard-house  for 
Trooper  Welsh, — once  again  there  incarcerated  by  order  of  Captain 
Cross,  who  as  officer  of  the  day  had  arrested  him  for  attempting  to 
slip  across  sentry's  post  the  previous  night.  And  once  again,  to  the 
dismay  of  the  cavalry  officers  and  the  unconcealed  ridicule  of  the 
infantry  battalion.  Colonel  Morris  had  directed  Welsh's  immediate 
release. 

"  It  was  a  misunderstanding,  probably,  Captain  Cross,"  said  the 
colonel,  in  conciliatory  mood,  to  the  old  officer  of  the  day,  as  he  relieved 
him  after  guard -mount.  "  Welsh  was  given  to  understand  that  these 
gentlemen,  who  had  just  come  from  an  interview  with  Colonel  Lawler, 
had  the  authority  of  the  department  commander  to  take  him  to  town 
with  them,  so  as  to  be  ready  to  make  certain  depositions  early  in  the 
morning." 

But  Cross  eyed  his  commander  unflinchingly  and  said  no  word. 

Among  the  infantry  officers  the  opinion  was  openly  expressed  that 
between  Abrams  and  Lawler  and  Trooper  Welsh  the  colonel  was 
simply  demoralized.  The  crowd  at  dress-parade  for  several  evenings 
was  almost  as  big  as  that  before  spoken  of,  and,  though  the  Palladium 
man  did  not  again  take  position  on  the  colonel's  left  during  the  cere- 


AN  ARMV  PORTIA.  793 

mony  itself,  he  was  frequently  at  that  officer's  side  when  he  made  his 
way  through  the  curious  throngs,  both  in  going  to  and  returning  from 
his  post.  And  afterwards,  with  the  eyes  of  the  towns-people  upon  them, 
Private  Welsh  and  the  unterrified  correspondent  paced  up  and  down 
the  road  in  front  of  the  cavalry  barracks  for  half  an  hour ;  and  the 
group  sitting  on  Lane's  piazza  one  evening  especially  could  not  help 
noting  how  ostentatiously  the  two  conversed  as  they  ueared  the  white 
wicket-gate. 

"  Wharton,"  quoth  Martin,  as  for  the  sixth  or  seventh  time  the 
swarthy  trooper  and  his  champion  approached  the  captain's  quarters, 
"  I'm  consumed  with  envy.  The  time  was  when  good-looking  cavalry- 
men, like  you  and  me,  could  command  some  small  attention  from  the 
eyes  of  our  friends  and  fellow-citizens  in  town ;  but  our  day  is  done. 
There  are  the  popular  heroes  of  the  hour.  Now,  here  comes  Hearn's 
first  sergeant.  Surely  he's  not  going  to  have  the  unbearable  effrontery 
to  remind  Trooper  Welsh  that  he  ought  to  be  cleaning  up  for  guard 
to-morrow,  when  a  gentleman  of  the  press  wants  to  talk  with  him  ?" 

"  Is  Welsh  for  guard  to-morrow  ?"  asked  Captain  Lane,  in  some 
surprise. 

"  He  is.  The  colonel  relieved  him  from  durance  vile  before 
guard-mount  this  morning,  and  I  heard  the  first  sergeant  tell  Heara 
an  hour  ago  that  it  was  Welsh's  turn  for  guard,  and  wanted  to  know 
whether  he  was  to  order  him  or  not.     Hearn  said  certainly." 

"And  the  man  cut  parade  to-night  on  plea  that  Mr.  Abrams 
wanted  to  talk  with  him.  He  was  the  '  one  private  absent'  reported 
from  C  troop,"  said  Wharton.  "  That's  the  reason  the  sergeant  is  after 
him  now,  I  fancy,  either  to  arrest  him,  or  else  warn  him  for  guard." 

"  If  I  were  Hearn  I'd  quit  attempting  to  discipline  that  young 
man,"  said  Major  Kenyon,  pessimistic  and  glowering  as  ever.  "  He 
ought  to  have  sense  enough  to  know  that  the  worst  blackguard  in  the 
service,  with  the  press  behind  him,  is  more  than  a  match  for  any  officer 
who  seeks  to  do  his  duty." 

"  And  if  I  were  Hearn,"  drawled  Martin,  "  I'd  make  that  particu- 
lar proteg^  of  the  Palladium  do  his  duty,  if  I  died  for  it,  especially  after 
the  marked  copies  that  came  to-day.     Now  watch." 

The  first  sergeant,  a  trim,  soldierly  fellow  with  determined  face  and 
manner  and  quick  energetic  step,  had  by  this  time  overtaken  the  pair 
who,  strolling  together,  had  almost  reached  the  picket  fence  and  were 
within  ear-shot  of  the  Lanes'  piazza.  Mrs.  Lane  glanced  eagerly  up 
the  road,  for  Miss  Marshall  and  Lieutenant  Hearn  at  that  very  mo- 
ment came  from  the  Whartons'  quarters  next  door  and  appeared  upon 
the  gravel  walk,  Wallace  following  with  Jeannette  McCrea. 

Sergeant  Wren  had  stopped  short  on  overtaking  the  trooper,  and, 
with  scant  ceremony,  addressed  him  in  tones  that  all  could  hear : 

"  Welsh,  you're  for  guard  to-morrow,  and  you've  got  mighty  little 
time  in  which  to  get  ready.  Did  the  lieutenant  excuse  you  from 
parade  ?" 

"  I  didn't  ask  him.     Colonel  Lawler  was  good  enough  for  me." 

"  Colonel  Lawler  left  the  post  at  five  o'clock,  and  couldn't  have 
wanted  vou." 


794  ^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

"  All  the  same  I  was  acting  under  his  orders  and  nobody  else's. 
If  you  want  any  other  authority  you  can  go  to  Colonel  Morris  :  I'm 
busy  now."  And  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  a  jerk  of  the 
head  to  his  companion,  Welsh  whirled  about  and  led  the  way  down  the 
road  toward  the  store,  Abrams  slowly  following  in  his  wake,  but  look- 
ing back  as  though  curious  to  see  the  sequel.  The  first  sergeant  stood 
an  instant  flushing  and  with  wrathful  eyes,  but  raised  his  hand  in 
respectful  salute  as  the  young  troop-commander  came  quietly  along. 
Miss  Marshall  leaning  on  his  arm. 

"You  warned  him  for  guard,  sergeant?"  said  Hearn,  answering 
Wren's  salute. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  and  he  says  Colonel  Lawler  excused  him  from  parade." 

"  I  reported  the  absence  to  Colonel  Morris,  and  he  tells  me  that 
there  may  have  been  some  such  understanding,  sergeant.  At  all  events, 
as  Colonel  Lawler  has  gone,  he  would  give  Welsh  the  benefit  of  the 
doubt :  so  we  have  nothing  further  to  do  with  that  matter." 

Wren  ground  his  teeth  as  he  briskly  strode  back  to  his  quarters. 

"  What  does  the  loot'nant  say  ?"  demanded  Duffy,  as  he  with  half 
a  dozen  of  his  comrades  clustered  about  the  office,  eagerly  watching  the 
sergeant's  face  and  his  clinching  hands,  as  he  returned. 

"  Nothing.  Don't  ask  questions  now,  you  men.  The  lieutenant 
can't  do  anything  to  him ;  the  colonel  won't  let  him." 

"  The  colonel  won't,  is  it  ?"  said  Duffy,  with  a  wrathful  grin.  "  Be 
jabers,  if  I  were  colonel  I'd  command  my  rigiment,  and  no  damned 
newspaper  man  would  scare  me  out  of  it.  It's  the  Palladium  that 
commands  Fort  Ryan  to-nigiit,  and  that  blackguard  Welsh  is  post 
adjutant, — more  shame  to  us  all !" 

"  Silence,  there,  Duffy  !  No  more  of  that  talk  !"  ordered  Wren,  as 
he  banged  to  the  door  of  his  own  little  den,  and  the  knot  of  troopers 
scattered  away.  "  AH  the  same,"  muttered  he  to  his  faithful  second. 
Sergeant  Ross,  "  Duffy  only  tells  the  truth,  and  damn  me  if  I  ever 
thought  the  day  would  come  when  my  old  chief  would  knuckle  down 
like  that." 

And  if  in  garrison  circles  that  night  it  was  predicted  that  something 
would  be  the  outcome  of  the  detail  of  Welsh  for  guard-duty,  no  one 
was  destined  to  disappointment.  He  appeared  at  the  appointed  time, 
and  was  curiously  scanned  by  the  other  members  of  the  troop,  as,  car- 
bine in  hand,  he  came  slowly  and  indifferently  down  the  stairway  just 
as  the  trumpets  began  to  sound  the  assembly  of  the  details.  Unluckily 
for  everybody  who  hoped  to  see  Welsh  brought  up  with  a  round  turn 
by  the  snappy  young  adjutant,  a  drizzling  rain  had  set  in,  and  undress 
guard-mounting  in  overcoats  was  the  result.  Welsh's  forage-cap  and 
accoutrements  might  pass  muster  in  a  shower,  but  his  full-dress  rig 
every  man  knew  to  be  wofully  ont  of  shape,  and  such  was  the  fellow's 
unpopularity  among  his  comrades  by  this  time  that  audible  regrets  were 
expressed  by  the  men  that  the  weather  had  "  gone  back  on  them." 

"  Step  out,  there  !"  shouted  Wren  sharply  to  the  dawdling  soldier, 
as  he  gave  the  command  to  fall  in. 

"  Get  a  move  on  you,  Misther  Welsh,"  laughed  Duffy  from  the 
upper  gallery.     "  Or  don't  they  ever  shtep  out  in  the  excellent  family 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  795 

down  East?     Sure,  isn't  he  a  fine-looking,  intelligent  young  man  of 
twenty-five  ?" 

"  Twenty-five  ?  'Faith,  it's  thirty-six  in  months  he'd  get,  if  I  was 
commanding,"  mattered  Kerrigan.  "  How  are  your  patriotic  motives 
this  morning.  Mister  American-Blood-with-the-Asshumed-Name?" 

"  Sure  his  name  is  Dennis,"  laughed  Duffy  again.  "  Quit  your 
sneering,  Kerrigan.  The  young  soldier's  eyes  are  blazing  with  pent- 
up  feelings  again,  don't  you  see?"  And  indeed  a  most  malignant 
scowl  was  that  which  Welsh  launched  aloft  at  his  persecutors,  whose 
fun  was  cut  short  by  the  stern  voice  of  Sergeant  Ross,  ordering  silence. 
And  in  another  moment  the  detail  of  C  troop  was  dancing  away  in- 
double  time,  with  a  parting  adjuration  from  Duffy  not  to  go  too  fast: 
"it's  too  aisy  to  set  the  blood  boiling  in  Welsh's  veins,  anyhow." 

It  was  in  the  ugliest  possible  mood  that  Welsh  tossed  up  his  carbine 
for  the  inspection  of  the  officer  of  the  guard.  He  had  expected  to  pose 
as  a  hero  and  martyr.  But,  whatever  might  be  the  mistaken  sentiments 
aroused  in  the  East  by  the  efforts  of  a  paper  that  had  exhausted  local 
well-springs  of  scandal  and  sensation,  here  among  those  who  knew  the 
facts,  and,  above  all,  knew  him,  he  had  gained  only  ridicule  and  con- 
tempt. In  all  the  garrison,  now  that  Goss  was  gone,  there  was  not  a 
soldier  who  had  ever  stood  his  friend.  In  his  own  troop  especially, 
where  the  rank  and  file  were  devoted  to  their  young  lieutenant,  there 
was  wrath  and  indignation  at  his  expense,  and  well  he  knew  that  noth- 
ing but  discipline  saved  him  from  a  ducking  in  the  river  or  a  hearty 
kicking  down  the  barrack  stairs.  Still,  with  Abrams  to  stand  by  him 
and  the  Palladium  to  champion  his  cause,  he  felt  secure  against  fate; 
only  he  had  thought  to  be  looked  upon  as  liberator  and  leader  among 
the  men,  and  they  were  all  laughing  at  him.  This  was  bitter  indeed. 
He  almost  hoped  that  the  adjutant  would  order  him  back,  replaced  by 
the  supernumerary,  for  the  rust  he  knew  to  be  about  the  breech-block 
of  his  carbine,  and  which  the  officer  of  the  guard  would  be  sure  to  dis- 
cover. But  the  young  lieutenant  contented  himself  with  pointing  to  it 
with  white-gloved  finger  and  passing  on,  probably  thinking  it  best  to  get 
him  on  duty  at  any  price. 

All  day  long  on  guard  the  men  had  taken  frequent  occasion  to 
declaim  quotations  from  the  Palladium,  until  by  evening  stables  they 
had  rung  the  changes  on  Welsh's  excellent  family  connections,  his 
American  blood,  his  patriotic  motives  in  enlisting,  his  ardor  for  the 
flag,  and  his  fidelity  to  his  oath,  until  he  was  ready  to  wish  to  heaven 
the  Palladium  had  singled  out  anybody  else  to  be  the  martyr  for  its 
preconcerted  exposition  of  official  tyi'anny  in  the  army,  and  heartily 
sick  of  the  part  he  had  been  induced  to  play. 

But  where,  meantime,  was  Abrams?  The  day  wore  by,  and  not 
once  had  he  come  to  the  garrison,  and  Welsh,  sulkily  plodding  up  and 
down  his  muddy  post  near  the  stables,  and  knowing  well  that  every 
time  the  men  looked  at  him  or  nudged  each  other  in  the  ribs  they  were 
guying  him,  had  earnest  desire  to  see  his  champion,  and  to  prevent  the 
publication  of  other  letters  they  had  projected,  since  the  only  effect, 
locally,  of  the  assault  upon  the  good  name  of  his  young  officer  was  to 
bring  down  the  indignation  of  the  enlisted  men  upon  himself.     It  only 


796  ^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

made  him  rage  the  more  spitefully  against  Hearn,  and  he  longed  for 
an  opportunity  to  vent  his  spleen. 

When  the  devil  is  working  in  the  human  breast,  opportunity  is 
seldom  lacking.  The  evening  gun  had  thundered,  the  last  notes  of 
"retreat"  had  died  away,  and  the  sun,  that  had  been  obscured  all 
morning,  went  down  in  a  golden  radiance,  leaving  a  sheen  of  beautiful 
color  lingering  along  the  crest  of  the  opposite  bluffs  and  reflected  in 
myriad  millions  of  rain-drops  still  clinging  to  the  clumps  of  buffalo- 
grass.  Tempted  by  the  loveliness  of  the  evening,  Mrs.  Lane  had 
ordered  out  her  carriage,  and  the  moment  the  report  had  been  made 
after  retreat  roll-call  and  Mr.  Hearn  was  returning  sadly  to  his  own 
quarters.  Lane  headed  him  off: 

"  No.  I'm  going  to  take  you  away  from  Wallace  and  Martin  to- 
night, and  I  don't  mean  to  let  old  Kenyon  get  his  hands  on  you  again. 
Mrs.  Lane  and  Miss  Marshall  want  you  to  drive  with  us  an  hour  or  so  ; 
then  we'll  come  back  and  have  a  quiet  little  bite  just  among  ourselves." 
And  Hearn  pressed  the  captain's  hand  and  silently  thanked  him. 

Half  a  dozen  of  the  guard  were  seated  about  the  rough  stone  porch 
of  the  gloomy  old  guard-house  as  the  carriage  came  rolling  by,  and  at 
sight  of  the  occupants  they  quickly  laid  aside  their  pipes  and  respect- 
fully arose  and  raised  their  hands  in  salute.  The  sentry  on  No.  1, 
facing  sharply  to  the  front,  brought  his  rifle  to  the  carry  with  a  snap 
that  made  the  bayonet  ring.  The  one  man  who  remained  seated  and 
staring  sulkily  at  the  carriage  wore  the  cavalry  uniform :  it  was 
Welsh. 

Both  officers  noticed  the  fact  as  they  touched  their  caps  in  acknowl- 
edgment of  the  courtesy  of  the  infantrymen,  and  exchanged  significant 
glances.  The  ladies,  too,  were  quick  to  note  what  had  happened,  and 
they,  too,  looked  at  each,  other  and  then  somewhat  anxiously  at  Hearn. 
But  the  carriage  whirled  along.  The  instant  it  had  passed,  Corporal 
Stein  turned  on  Welsh.     So  did  others  of  the  guard. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  sitting  there  like  that?"  was  the  demand. 

"  I  know  my  business,"  was  the  surly  reply.  "  Just  you  'tend  to 
yonrs.  You'd  better  study  Tactics  and  Regulations  before  you  try  to 
learn  me  anything." 

"Oh,  do  let  the  high-spirited  scion  of  our  finest  families  alone,  cor- 
poral. Can't  you  see  it's  turning  his  stomach  to  be  civil  to  anybody  ?" 
protested  a  tall  infantryman. 

"Ah,  let  up,  now,  on  Mr,  Welsh,  n6  Mulligan — that's  what  they 
called  ye  in  the  Twenty-Third, — wasn't  it  Mulligan  ?  Or  was  it  Sulli- 
van ?  Sure  I  know  the  family,  and  it's  a  foine  one,"  protested  Private 
Kelly,  his  blue  eyes  twinkling  with  fun. 

Welsh  sprang  furiously  to  his  feet,  clinching  his  fist  and  making 
straight  for  the  laughing  little  "  dough-boy."  That  young  Celt, 
though  a  head  shorter  than  his  dark  antagonist,  in  no  wise  discon- 
certed, stood  squarely  facing  him,  and  awaited  the  attack  with  a  grin 
of  genuine  delight  on  his  freckled  face.  Stein  sprang  forward,  however, 
and  interposed. 

"  No  fighting  here,"  he  ordered.  "  Wait  till  you're  off"  guard  in 
the  morning,  and  settle  it  then." 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  797 

"  Don't  thwart  the  gentleman,  corporal.  Here  comes  his  friend 
the  police  reporter/'  laughed  the  group  of  guardsmen.  But  the  un- 
usual chaff  had  summoned  the  officer  of  the  guard  to  the  spot,  and  at 
sight  of  the  lieutenant  every  Irishman  in  the  party  assumed  an  instan- 
taneous expression  of  preternatural  innocence.  Mr.  Abrams,  too,  had 
reined  up  in  front  of  the  trader's  store,  a  few  yards  away,  and,  noting 
the  little  loiot  of  soldiers  peering  across  the  road,  divined  at  once  that 
something  was  going  on,  and  so,  with  the  instinct  of  his  profession, 
hastened  to  the  scene  in  time  to  catch  a  part  of  the  colloquy  that  ensued. 

"  The  corporal  tells  me  the  trouble  grew  out  of  your  refusing  to 
rise  and  salute  when  Captain  Lane  passed,"  said  the  officer  of  the 
guard,  addressing  the  stalwart  trooper. 

Welsh  glanced  furtively  over  his  shoulder  until  sure  the  Palladium 
man  was  in  range  of  his  voice,  and  then  loudly  replied, — 

"  I'm  a  member  of  the  guard,  sir,  and  the  Regulations  forbid  guards 
paying  compliments  of  any  kind  after  '  retreat,'  and  I  can  show  you 
the  paragraph." 

"  You  know  perfectly  well,  Welsh,  that  that  applies  to  the  guard 
collectively  when  under  arms,  and  not  to  individual  members.  I  want 
no  hair-splitting  here.  See  to  it  that  you  pay  proper  courtesy  to  every 
officer  while  you're  under  my  command."  And  the  lieutenant,  a  young 
infantryman,  with  decidedly  resolute  face,  looked  squarely  into  the 
glowering  black  eyes  of  the  trooper,  and  then,  turning  quietly  toward 
his  little  office,  his  eye  lighted  on  the  Palladium  man.  For  an  in- 
stant it  looked  as  though  he  had  something  to  say  to  him  too;  but, 
struck  by  a  sudden  thought,  he  passed  in  without  another  word,  and 
presently  the  sergeant  of  the  guard  appeared  in  the  door-way.  There 
was  evident  purpose  in  his  coming. 

Half  an  hour  later  Welsh  was  standing  some  twenty  yards  away, 
engaged  in  low-toned  eager  chat  with  his  civilian  friend.  The  faces  of 
both  men  were  clouded,  and  every  little  while  the  gypsy-looking  sol- 
dier shot  an  angry  glance  toward  the  guard-house  door.  Presently 
they  moved  across  the  road  and  headed  for  the  open  bar  at  the  trader's, 
wherein  the  lamps  were  just  beginning  to  gleam.  Before  they  reached 
its  open  portals.  Corporal  Stein  was  at  their  heels  and  his  stern  voice 
ordered  Welsh  to  halt : 

"  Go  back  to  the  guard-house,  Welsh  :  it's  against  orders  for  a 
member  of  the  guard  to  leave  it,  and  you  know  it  as  well  as  I  do." 

"  My  relief  don't  go  on  post  for  two  hours  yet,  and  this  gentleman 
has  business  with  me :  you'd  better  not  interfere  with  him." 

"The  gentleman  can  see  you  over  there.     You  can't  see  him  here." 

Already  the  sergeant  was  striding  across  the  road ;  the  lieutenant 
appeared  at  the  door ;  a  dozen  members  of  the  guard  were  eagerly 
watching  the  scene.  Welsh  half  turned.  Mr.  Abrams  bent  and  mut- 
tered a  few  words  in  his  ear,  but  the  soldier,  after  one  glance  around 
him,  shook  his  head.     Slowly  and  reluctantly  he  turned. 

"  I'll  get  even  with  you  for  this,  Stein,"  he  hissed.  And  then,  with 
shrugging  shoulders,  the  two  objects  of  general  interest — the  civilian 
and  the  enlisted  man — slouched  back  across  the  road,  the  eyes  of  all 
upon  them. 


798  ^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

It  was  at  this  instant  that  the  rapid  wliirr  of  wheels  and  the  click 
of  iron-shod  hoofs  were  heard  upon  the  drive,  and  briskly  the  Lane 
carriage  came  around  the  turn.  Lieutenant  Lewis  stepped  out  from 
the  door-way.  Again  the  sentry  faced  the  road  and  carried  arms ; 
again  the  soldiers  of  the  guard  arose,  and  those  about  the  trader's  door, 
also,  faced  the  road-way ;  again  the  white-gloved  hands  were  raised  in 
soldierly  salute,  and  one  man  only  turned  his  back  and  slouched  away. 
Every  soldier  within  range  saw  that  Welsh  was  determined  to  disobey 
the  orders  he  had  just  received.  In  six  giant  leaps  the  tall  sergeant 
had  reached  his  side. 

"  Halt,  Welsh,  and  face  about,"  he  thundered,  and  then,  as  the  man 
still  strove  to  edge  away  under  the  wing  of  his  civilian  associate,  laid 
a  brawny  hand  upon  the  hulking  shoulder  and  spun  him  about  as  he 
would  a  top. 

"Heels  together,  now.  Look  square  at  Captain  Lane.  Now, 
then,  damn  you,  left  hand,  salute." 

"  Not  badly  done,  sergeant,"  said  Lieutenant  Lewis,  a  moment 
after,  as  with  kindling  eyes  he  reached  the  spot  just  as  the  carriage  had 
flashed  by. — "  Finish  what  you  have  to  say  to  your  friend  in  fifteen 
minutes,  Welsh,  and  then  report  to  me  at  the  guard-room." — "  Not 
badly  done,"  he  repeated,  as  he  turned  away  with  the  tall  infantryman 
by  his  side;  "only  you  shouldn't  have  said  'damn'  in  the  presence 
of  ladies,  or,"  with  a  grim  smile  under  his  moustache,  "or — of  the 
press." 

"  The  ladies  couldn't  hear,  sir,  and  I  meant  that  the  press  should. 
I  know  that  according  to  *  Pinafore'  and  the  Palladium  1  should  have 
said,  '  if  you  please.'  But  mules  and  blackguards  pay  no  attention  to 
politeness.  I've  been  thirty  years  a  soldier,  sir,  and  I  know  what 
fetches  them." 

XII. 

There  were  sore  hearts  at  Ryan  in  the  week  that  followed.  As  had 
long  been  anticipated,  orders  came  for  the  summer  practice  march  to 
the  Indian  Territory,  and  the  Eleventh — band  and  all — had  jogged 
away,  leaving  Major  Kenyon  to  command  the  post,  with  his  little  bat- 
talion of  infantry  to  guard  it.  The  orders  were  received  two  days  after 
Welsh's  enlivening  tour  of  guard-duty.  The  command  was  to  march 
in  forty-eight  hours,  equipped  for  field-service,  and  Lieutenant  Hearn, 
with  the  other  troop-commanders,  was  occupied  every  instant  in  getting 
his  horses  and  men  in  thorough  shape.  Kenyon  and  Lane,  after  con- 
sultation among  some  of  his  friends,  had  induced  the  young  fellow  to 
promise  not  to  open  one  of  the  marked  copies  of  the  newspapers  which 
now  began  to  crowd  in  with  every  mail,  but  to  leave  them  all  to  be 
considered  by  the  little  council  of  three  in  whose  hands  he  had  been 
persuaded  to  rest  his  case.  He  had  written  a  full  denial  of  the  Palla- 
dium's scandalous  statements  with  regard  to  his  financial  entanglements, 
and  a  full  description,  as  has  already  been  told,  of  the  original  trouble 
at  the  trader's  store  with  Private  Welsh.  These  had  both  been  duly 
handed  to  Colonel  Morris  in  his  office.  No  one  had  heard  from 
Lawler.     No  one  knew  just  exactly  what  disposition  the  colonel  had 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  799 

made  of  these  papers.  Mr.  Abrams,  too,  had  disappeared  the  day  after 
Welsh's  tour  of  guard-duty. ;  but  the  whole  garrison  now  was  flooded 
with  newspapers  by  the  hundred.  It  would  seem  as  if  the  guild  of 
the  Western  press  had  resolved  on  a  sudden  and  simultaneous  assault 
on  the  army  in  general  and  as  if  Fort  Ryan  was  the  vortex  of  the 
storm.  Sensational  despatches  were  published  from  various  quarters. 
Other  journals,  envious  of  the  Palladium's  exploit,  unearthed  other 
victims,  long  since  out  of  the  army  for  general  worthlessness,  and  with 
flaming  head-lines  displayed  to  a  sympathizing  public  the  tale  of  official 
abuse  and  tyranny  wi)ich  had  compelled  these  several  gallant  and 
patriotic  sons  of  America  to  quit  the  service  they  were  so  well  fitted  to 
adorn.  Dozens  of  tramps  and  tatterdemalions  reaped  sudden  and  un- 
expected harvest  of  eleemosynary  quarters  and  lunches  from  gaping 
audiences  in  the  beer-saloons  by  detailing  individual  experiences  of 
their  own  when  serving  under  Lieutenant  this  or  that  in  the  Eleventh 
Horse  or  the  Thirty-Third  Foot.  Dozens  of  Munchausens  wore  the 
reporters'  pencils  down  to  the  wood  with  details  of  their  harrowing 
sufferings.  Then  the  editorials  began,  and  gravely  lectured  the  people 
on  the  wrongs  of  the  whole  system, — the  nnrepublican  character  of  an 
army  anyhow,  the  repugnance  in  the  American  mind  to  all  idea  of  dis- 
cipline. Meantime,  of  course,  the  Palladium  was  firiug  hot  shot  by  the 
ton,  and  new  so-called  scandals  at  Ryan,  fresh  outrages  on  the  helpless 
and  down-trodden  soldiery,  were  the  subjects  of  Mr.  Abrams's  lurid 
delineations,  until  it  was  to  be  wondered  at  that  in  their  wrath  the 
offended  public  did  not  wipe  the  foul  blot  on  their  civilization  from 
the  face  of  the  earth. 

It  was  on  Friday  evening  that,  in  answer  to  certain  despatches  he 
had  been  firing  at  department  head-quarters.  Colonel  Morris  received  a 
message  that  at  least  put  him  out  of  uncertainty.  That  day  the  Pal- 
ladium had  outdone  itself,  and  no  one  not  conversant  with  the  illimit- 
able faculties  of  the  paid  correspondent  can  begin  to  imagine  the  heroic 
size  attained  in  its  columns  by  the  incident  briefly  sketched  in  the  last 
chapter :  "  Continued  Persecution  of  Trooper  Welsh  !  Heaped-up 
Humiliations  on  his  Head !  Forced  to  Show  Slavish  Homage  to  his 
Insulter !  Helpless  Wrath  of  Comrades  !"  etc.  The  details  of  the  in- 
cident as  told  by  the  special  correspondent  lost  nothing  of  sensational- 
ism ;  and  Lieutenant  Lewis  came  in  now  for  his  share  of  obloquy. 
Poor  Welsh  was  represented  as  having  been  marched  out  and  with 
brutal  curses  compelled  to  salute  Lieutenant  Hearn,  despite  the  fact 
that  he  as  member  of  the  guard  was  by  law  and  Regulations  exempted 
from  the  requirement.  "  In  vain  did  the  young  soldier  plead  that 
paragraph  391  of  the  Regulations  fully  excused  him.  His  relentless 
persecutors  defied  the  laws  of  Congress  and  compelled  him  to  '  stand 
and  deliver'  for  the  purpose  of  adding  to  the  indignities  already  heaped 
upon  him.  Could  the  readers  of  the  Palladium  have  heard  the  low, 
deep  mutterings  of  the  men  in  the  garrison  this  night,  no  mutiny  on 
their  part  need  have  surprised  them."  The  editor,  too,  backed  up 
his  correspondent  in  a  three-quarter-column  assault  on  the  ridiculous 
etiquette  of  the  army.  "  It  may  be,"  he  said,  "  all  well  enough  in  the 
conscripted  camps  of  Europe,  where  whole  nations  are  forced  to  service 


800  AN  ARMY  PORTIA. 

under  arms,  to  exact  of  the  rank  and  file  this  slavish  exhibition  to 
superiors ;  but  it  is  an  insult  to  the  high  intelligence  of  the  soldiers  of 
free  America,  that  because  a  beardless  boy  happens  to  have  a  strap 
upon  his  shoulder,  thousands  of  scarred  veterans  should  be  compelled 
to  do  him  homage.  The  whole  idea  of  the  salute  is  repugnant  to  the 
republican  mind,  and  should  be  abolished ;  and  for  that  matter,  as  we 
have  no  further  use  for  an  army,  why  stop  at  the  salute?" 

No  doubt  the  ninety-and-nine  of  the  Palladium's  readers  thought 
their  editor  was  sound,  and  were  as  opposed  to  the  idea  of  that  courtesy 
which  is  officially  declared  to  be  "  indispensable  among  military  men," 
as  to  any  exhibition  thereof  in  the  streets  of  their  own  peaceful  and 
remarkably  well  regulated  metropolis. 

But  Colonel  Morris  was  himself  wofully  perturbed  about  this  time. 
After  immolating  Cross  and  other  officers  by  name,  as  Avas  to  be  ex- 
pected, the  Palladium  man  had  taken  to  poking  ugly  little  insinuations 
at  the  post  commander ;  and  this,  thought  Morris,  was  the  height  of 
ingratitude.  He  was  in  no  pleasant  mood  when  the  men  came  march- 
ing up  from  stables,  and  it  stung  him  to  see  how  cordial  everybody  was 
to  Hearn,  who,  confound  it,  was  the  cause  of  the  whole  row.  The  tele- 
gram he  had  just  received  settled  that  matter  once  and  for  all ;  yet  he 
was  glad  he  had  an  adjutant  on  whom  to  devolve  the  coming  duty. 

Ever  since  Hearn's  trouble  began,  Captain  and  Mrs.  Lane  had  lost 
no  opportunity  to  make  him  understand  that  they  were  devotedly  his 
friends,  and  that  if  he  would  but  come  to  them  in  his  sense  of  utter 
wrong  the  shelter  of  their  home,  the  welcome  of  their  fireside,  would 
be  some  compensation  at  least  for  the  harsh  treatment  accorded  to  him 
by  the  world  at  large.  Thanks  to  the  efforts  of  the  Western  news- 
paper, a  million  or  more  of  free  people  had  learned  to  look  upon  his 
name  as  the  synonyme  for  all  that  was  swaggering,  brutal,  drunken, 
and  bullying ;  and  it  was  easy  to  see  that  the  young  soldier  was  cut  to 
the  heart. 

But  an  unexpected  ally  had  been  discovered.  Hearn,  who  had  at 
first  held  aloof  in  solitude,  brooding  over  his  troubles,  began  to  show 
decided  readiness  to  come.  And  though  at  all  times  grateful  and  most 
attentive  to  Mrs.  Lane,  that  clear-sighted  young  matron  speedily  noted 
how  his  handsome  blue  eyes  would  wander  about  in  search  of  her 
quietly-observant  friend,  and  that  ever  since  the  night  of  her  tilt  with 
Lawler  Miss  Marshall's  interest  in  the  case  had  been  quadrupled. 
Now,  this  was  not  exactly  what  Mrs.  Lane  had  planned.  She  wanted 
Georgia  to  marry  in  the  army,  l)ut  she  also  wanted,  and  saw  nothing 
in  the  least  unreasonable  in  so  wanting,  to  select  that  spirited  young 
woman's  husband  for  her.  She  did  not  for  a  moment  think  that  there 
was  any  danger  of  Georgia's  falling  in  love  with  Hearn.  He  was  sev- 
eral years  her  senior,  to  be  sure;  he  was  handsome,  distinguished  as  a 
soldier,  a  man  of  unimpeachable  character,  as  modern  men  go ;  but, 
she  argued,  "  he  is  so  much  younger  for  his  years  than  Georgia  for 
hers."  She  had  had  to  think  so  much  for  herself,  and  now  the  man 
she  should  marry  was — well,  not  crabbed  old  Major  Kenyon,  of  course ; 
he  was  a  widower, — sour  and  yet  susceptible.  It  was  only  too  plain 
that  lie  loved  to  come  to  the  house  and  talk  with  Miss  Marshall  by  the 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  gQl 

hour,  especially  when  the  cavalrymen  were  all  down  at  stables.  Neither 
did  she  want  the  doctor,  whom  Jeannette  McCrea  could  have  if  she 
would  only  make  up  her  mind  to  drop  Jim  Wallace,  who  was  now  so 
devoted  that  the  yearning  medical  man  had  no  chance  whatever.  No ; 
she  didn't  see,  after  all,  just  the  right  man  for  Georgia  :  still,  she  had 
always  thought  of  some  one  so  much  older,  utterly  ignoring  the  fact 
that  when  left  to  themselves  most  women  have  very  different  views  of 
their  own.  Not  a  word  had  she  uttered  to  Georgia,  of  course,  but  to 
her  loving  and  indulgent  spouse  she  had  gone  so  far  as  to  say, — 

"  It  is  lovely  to  see  how  he  is  beginning  to  find  comfort  in  her 

society ;    but,  Fred "      And   Madame    breaks   off,   irresolute   yet 

suggestive. 

"  But,  Mabel "  responds  her  gray-eyed  lord,  with  indefiniteness 

equal  to  her  own. 

"  Just  suppose "     And  then  another  pause  on  her  part. 

"Just  suppose  what,  Mrs.  Lane? — that  it  should  snow  before 
September  ?" 

"  Now,  Fred,  you  know ;  or  else  you  haven't  any  eyes  for " 

"  I  haven't — except  for  one,"  says  Lane,  parrying  the  situation  with 
the  very  words  he  knows  will  most  delight  her. 

"  You  absurd  boy  !"  But  she  comes  fluttering  across  the  room  to 
reward  him  as  he  deserves.  "  What  I  mean  is,  Georgia  might  get  to 
think  of  him." 

"  Well,  everybody  is  thinking  of  him  just  now,  and  in  the  light  of 
such  a  catastrophe  I  suppose  I'd  have  to  make  him  think  of  her." 

"He  does  now;  and  if  he  doesn't — you  can't  make  people  fall  in 
love,  can  you  ?" 

"  Agreed,  Mrs.  Wisehead.  Neither  can  you  prevent  it,  can  you  ? 
I  know  I  couldn't  stop  a  fellow  from  falling  in  love  with  you  some 
few  years  ago,  hard  as  I  tried.  The  more  I  tried  to  put  you  away,  the 
more  you  kept  coming  into  that  fellow's  empty  head."  (Here  Captain 
Lane  is  rewarded  again,  and  as  soon  as  able  to  speak  resumes.)  "So 
why  worry  now  ?" 

"  Well,  I'm  not  worrying,  exactly,  only " 

"  Only  what  ?  Every  man  can't  have  a  wife  like  mine.  Still, 
wouldn't  she  make  rather  a  good  one  ?" 

"Good?  Goodness!  But  the  question  is  to  find  the  right  man. 
However,  I  know  what  you  mean,  Fred, — Don't  interfere;  so  I  won't. 
And  there  they  are  chatting  in  the  parlor  yet,  and  it's  time  for  him  to 

get  ready  for  parade Why,  here's  Mr.  Mason  !"    And  Mrs.  Lane, 

who  had  slipped  into  the  dining-room,  caught  sight  of  the  adjutant  at 
the  front  door. 

"  What  is  it,  Mason  ?"  asked  Lane,  a  sudden  trouble  in  his  eyes,  as 
he  hurried  through  the  hall. 

"The  colonel  wishes  Mr.  Wharton  to  assume  command  of  C 
troop  temporarily.  I'm  ordered  to  place  Hearn  in  arrest,"  was  the 
answer,  in  tones  that  trembled  a  little  despite  Mason's  efforts  at  impas- 
sibility. 

Lane's  hand  was  extended,  as  though  to  close  the  parlor  door,  which 
stood  ajar,  but  he  was  too  late.  The  clink  of  the  scabbard  without  had 
YoL.  XLVI.— 52 


802  A^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

already  been  heard,  and  almost  at  the  instant  Hearn  stepped  forth  into 
the  hall. 

"  You  won't  have  far  to  look,  old  fellow.     Here  I  am." 

"  My  heaven,  Hearn  !  I  thouglit  to  find  you  over  home,  or  I  would 
never  have  come  here  on  such  an  errand." 

"  Never  mind ;  I  am  with  you.  Good-by,  captain ;  say  good- 
afternoon  to — to  the  ladies  for  me." 

"  By  Jove !  I'm  going  over  with  you,"  said  Lane,  snatching  a 
forage-cap  and  springing  down  the  steps.  He  did  not  want  to  en- 
counter the  questioning  eyes  within. 

But  Mabel  and  Georgia  Marshall  met  at  the  parlor  door. 

"Have  you  heard — do  you  know?"  was  the  faltering  question  of 
the  former. 

"Hear!    Know!   Who  could  help  hearing  ?    Is  it  not  an  outrage?" 

XIII. 

If  Frank  Hearn  were  a  wronged  and  unhappy  man  before  the 
regiment  marched  away,  his  troubles  seemed  only  intensified  now. 
Deprived  of  the  command  of  his  troop  and  confined  to  his  quarters  in 
close  arrest,  he  was  confronted  by  a  new  sorrow,  one  least  expected,  yet 
hardest  of  all  to  bear. 

The  sharp  assaults  of  the  Palladium  to  a  certain  extent  had  been 
discontinued.  One  great  and  influential  journal  of  the  Northwest  had 
taken  the  pains  to  investigate  the  situation  independently,  and  was  now 
giving  its  readers  the  benefit  of  the  facts  in  the  case  of  the  much-heralded 
martyr  Welsh.  And  when  that  eminent  patriot  was  thus  shown  up  in 
his  true  colors  the  other  papers  had  to  moderate  their  ecstasies  on  his 
account.  Very  few  managing  editors,  indeed,  had  not  already  been 
shrewd  enough  to  see  what  he  must  inevitably  turn  out  to  be.  But  the 
originators  had  hoped  to  eifect  their  onslaught  on  the  army  before 
the  actual  character  of  their  witnesses  was  exposed.  The  moment  the 
Pioneer  came  to  the  rescue  it  M'as  time  for  them  to  change  the  line  of 
attack,  for  no  one  of  their  number  dared  lock  horns  on  a  question  of 
fact  with  a  journal  so  fearless  and  respected.  Still,  as  a  lie  can  never 
overtake  the  truth,  and  as  in  this  case  the  lie  had  a  week's  start,  these 
exponents  of  the  ethics  of  American  journalism  had  reason  to  feel  mod- 
erately well  satisfied.  It  would  be  prudent,  however,  to  let  the  matter 
"  simmer"  now ;  and  there  were  other  reasons,  too :  so  Mr.  Abrams 
was  recalled  from  his  mission  to  Central  City,  and  set  to  work  at  the 
foundations  of  the  character  of  a  gentleman  just  spoken  of  in  connec- 
tion with  the  coming  municipal  elections.  He  had  hitherto  borne  an 
unimpeachable  name  in  the  community,  but  his  friends  had  committed 
the  grievous  offence  of  speaking  of  him  for  mayor  before  the  Palladium 
had  been  consulted,  and  it  therefore  became  the  Palladium's  duty  to 
pull  his  props  from  under  him. 

Contenting  himself  tor  the  time-being  with  the  announcement  that 
the  military  authorities  at  division  and  army  head-quarters  had  ex- 
pressed their  deep  sense  of  obligation  to  the  Palladium  for  having 
brought  to  light  the  scandalous  condition  of  affairs  at  Fort  Ryan,  and 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  803 

that  it  had  received  their  assurances  that  as  the  result  of  its  efforts 
Lieutenant  Hearn  would  be  brought  to  trial  by  court-martial,  this 
public-spirited  journal  wisely  turned  its  attention  elsewhere.  Other 
papers,  of  course,  kept  up  the  hue  and  cry,  but,  the  Pioneer's  columns 
having  warned  them  that  their  martyr  was,  after  all,  only  a  scamp,  and 
their  victim  a  young  officer  with  a  capital  military  record  whom  the 
court  might,  after  all,  acquit,  it  became  necessary  to  prepare  the  public 
mind  for  such  a  bouleversement  by  pitching  into  military  courts  in  gen- 
eral as  "Star  Chamber"  affairs,  organized  only  to  convict  privates  and 
whitewash  officers ;  one  journal  going  so  far  as  to  announce  that  a 
"  court-martial  for  Lieutenant  Hearn  meant  simply  that  a  body  of  men, 
each  and  every  one  of  whom  was  in  the  daily  habit  of  violating  every 
rule  of  decency  and  humanity,  was  to  sit  in  judgment  on  his  case  and 
declare  him  innocent." 

All  this,  of  course,  came  duly  marked  and  with  pencil  comment  to 
Mr.  Hearn  from  scores  of  anonymous  senders,  as  he  sat  dazed  and  dis- 
heartened in  his  cheerless  room ;  but  this  was  not  all.  Nearly  two 
weeks  had  elapsed  now  since  the  first  assault,  and  the  home  letters,  for 
which  he  had  looked  with  mingled  fear  and  longing,  had  begun  to 
come.  The  first  he  opened  was  from  his  mother.  She  had  received 
the  marked  copies  of  the  Palladium  of  the  first  three  or  four  days,  sent 
no  one  knew  by  whom,  and  they  were  quickly  followed  by  others. 

What  was  it  Thackeray  wrote  ? — "  There  are  stories  to  a  man's  dis- 
advantage that  the  women  who  are  fondest  of  him  are  always  the  most 
eager  to  believe." 

A  devoted  woman  and  mother  was  Mrs.  Hearn,  but  her  sole  knowl- 
edge of  army  life  was  derived  from  what  she  had  seen  around  their 
nearly  ruined  home  in  a  Southern  city  about  the  close  of  the  war. 
Frank's  boyhood  was  spent  in  straitened  circumstances,  but  little  by 
little  his  father's  toil  and  pluck  had  restored  their  fallen  fortunes,  and, 
a  stanch  soldier  himself,  he  could  not  wonder  that  the  young  fellow's 
heart  should  be  wrapped  up  in  the  hope  of  a  commission.  Poor  Mrs. 
Hearn  !  she  had  looked  for  something  far  different,  and  even  her  pride 
at  Frank's  winning  a  cadetship  at  West  Point  by  competitive  exami- 
nation did  not  reconcile  her  to  his  entering  upon  a  profession  which 
would  associate  him  with  such  characters  as  she  had  seen  about  the  time 
the  great  army  was  being  disbanded  and  hundreds  of  officers  seemed 
to  have  nothing  to  do  but  carouse.  By  the  time  he  was  graduated,  his 
father's  practice  had  become  so  well  established  as  to  warrant  the 
squire-colonel's  yielding  to  his  wife's  pleadings.  Secretly  he  rather 
wanted  the  boy  to  go  on  in  his  career,  and  was  prouder  of  the  chevrons 
the  handsome  young  cadet  captain  had  worn  than  of  the  old  tarnished 
sleeve-knots  that  he  had  put  away  so  reverently  the  day  after  Appo- 
mattox, where  Lee's  kindly  hand  had  rested  for  a  moment  on  his  arm 
when  he  went  to  bid  his  beloved  chief  adieu.  Yielding  to  her  en- 
treaties, he  offered  Frank  good  inducements  to  drop  the  army  and  come 
home  and  study  law,  but  the  youngster  said  his  heart  was  bound  up  in 
the  cavalry.  The  mother  had  let  him  go  with  prayers  and  tears.  The 
letters  from  Ryan  were  buoyant,  and  made  no  mention  of  care  or 
trouble  of  any  kind.     How  could  he  ask  his  father's  help  when  he  had 


804  ^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

refused  his  offer?  The  colonel  rejoiced  at  the  youngster's  indepen- 
dence and  decision,  although  he  said  nothing  to  his  wife.  Then  came 
Frank's  orders  for  Arizona,  and  Mrs.  Hearn  sobbed  herself  to  sleep. 
Again  the  father  said,  "  Resign  if  you  like,  and  I'll  start  you  here," 
but  in  the  solitude  of  his  library  he  kissed  the  boy's  letter  and  blessed 
him  in  his  heart  of  hearts  for  replying,  "  I  wouldn't  be  my  father's  son 
were  I  to  resign  now,  with  the  prospect  of  sharp  fighting  ahead." 
Heaven  !  with  what  trembling  hands  and  tear-dimmed  eyes  he  read 
the  glowing  words  of  old  Captain  Rawlins's  despatch  telling  how 
brilliant  and  daring  the  boy  had  been  in  the  first  fierce  battle  with  the 
Apaches !  He  draped  the  stars  and  stripes  over  Frank's  picture  in 
the  parlor,  and  bade  the  neighbors  in  to  drink  to  the  New  South  and 
the  old  flag,  and  even  Mrs.  Hearn,  ever  pessimistic  and  filled  with 
secret  dread  of  vague  temptations  that  she  knew  not  of,  fearing  them 
more  than  peril  or  ambuscade,  took  heart  and  strove  to  rejoice  that 
Frank  was  such  a  soldier.  How  shocked  and  sorrow-stricken  they  were 
when  but  a  short  time  after  came  the  tidings  of  the  old  captain's 
lamented  death !  How  they  studied  all  Frank's  letters,  and  learned  to 
know  the  regimental  officers  through  his  eyes,  and  longed  to  meet  that 
capital  adjutant.  Lane,  when  he  came  to  Cincinnati  recruiting!  Col- 
onel Hearn  even  took  a  few  days  off  and  the  north-bound  "  flyer"  on 
the  Queen  &  Crescent  to  go  thither  and  make  the  acquaintance  of  his 
boy's  friend,  and  sat  for  hours  with  Lane  at  the  club,  listening  to  his 
praise  of  Frank.  Then  came  the  eastward  move  again,  and  a  brief 
leave,  and  the  mother's  heart  yearned  over  her  stalwart  son,  wondering 
at  the  bronze  and  tan  of  his  once  fair  skin  and  rejoicing  in  the  strength 
of  his  handsome  face.  Mother-like,  she  sought  long  talks  with  him 
and  strove  to  catechise  him  as  to  what  they  did  when  not  actually  in 
the  field.  Was  there  not  a  great  deal  of  dissipation  ?  Did  they  not 
play  cards  ?  Were  there  not  too  many  temptations  to  drink  wine  ? 
What  opportunity  had  they  for  attending  divine  service?  etc.  So  far 
as  he  himself  was  concerned,  he  answered  frankly,  but  as  to  his  com- 
rades, all  these  questions  he  had  laughingly  parried.  He  had  now  been 
six  years  an  officer,  and  had  never  once  asked  his  father  for  money, 
yet  she  nursed  her  theory  that  under  it  all  there  was  something  hidden. 
From  childhood  she  had  been  taught  that  army  life  meant  frivolity 
and  dissipation,  if  not  vice ;  and  now  at  last,  when  her  husband  was 
miles  away  from  home,  looking  after  investments  he  had  made  in 
Florida,  came  this  startling  and  terrible  confirmation  of  her  fears.  In 
glaring  head-lines,  in  crushing,  damning  terms,  in  half  a  score  of 
prominent  Northern  papers  she  read  of  her  son  as  a  drunken  bully,  a 
gambler,  an  abusive  tyrant  to  the  helpless  men  committed  to  his  charge, 
and,  utterly  overwhelmed,  the  poor  soul  had  thrown  herself  upon  her 
knees  to  implore  of  Heaven  the  strength  to  bear  the  dreaded  blow,  and 
wisdom  to  guide  her  aright  in  the  effort  to  reclaim  her  wayward  boy. 
The  gray-haired  pastor,  for  whom  she  had  sent,  came  and  mingled  his 
tears  and  prayers  with  hers,  and  then  they  had  between  them  written 
the  letter  that  was  now  before  him  : 

"  It  is  but  the  confirmation  of  a  long-haunting  fear.     I  have  all  along 
felt  that  you  were  holding  back  something  from  me,  my  son ;  and  God 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  805 

only  knows  how  I  have  prayed  that  this  cup  might  be  spared  me  and 
this  sin  averted  from  you.  I  dreaded  the  temptation  of  army  life  for  one 
of  your  impulsive  temperament.  I  strove,  I  rebelled,  against  the  idea 
of  your  being  subjected  to  such  companionship.  I  hoped  against  hope 
that  it  might  not  be  as  I  feared ;  but,  alas !  my  intuition  was  right, 
after  all.  Do  not  think  I  am  angry,  my  boy.  Do  not  let  this  drive 
you  from  us.  As  soon  as  it  is  over,  come  home,  and  all  that  a  mother's 
love  can  do  shall  be  done  to  spare  you  further  bitterness.  My  first  im- 
pulse was  to  wire  your  uncle  James  at  Washington  to  ask  if  something 
could  not  be  done  to  avert  the  court-martial ;  but  good  old  Dr.  Wayne, 
whose  son  was  in  the  army  before  the  war,  tells  me  that  it  is  hopeless, 
and  that  the  best  that  can  be  done  is  to  get  your  resignation  accepted, 
so  that,  though  you  have  to  quit  the  service,  as  he  says,  it  may  not  be 
by  the  disgrace  of  a  sentence.  I  have,  therefore,  wired  James  to  go  at 
once  to  the  Secretary,  and  Dr.  Wayne  has  also  invoked  the  aid  of  some 
influential  friends.  Wire  me  instantly  on  receipt  of  this,  that  I  may 
know  that  you  are  bearing  up  manfully.  It  will  soon  be  over.  May 
God  sustain  you,  my  son,  is  the  prayer  of  your  devoted  and  distracted 

"  Mother. 

"  P.S. — Frank,  my  worst  anxiety  is  on  your  poor  father's  account. 
I  dread  to  think  of  the  effect  this  news  will  have  upon  him.  He  never 
appreciated  the  danger  as  I  did." 

And  this  was  the  letter  poor  Hearn  was  almost  raging  over  when 
the  door  opened,  after  a  single  prefatory  bang,  and  in  came  the  major : 

"  Hello,  lad  !  how  are  you  to-day  ?  The  regulations  M'hich  forbid 
your  visiting  the  commanding  officer  don't  prevent  his  coming  in  to  see 
you,  I  suppose.  Any  more  newspaper  attacks?  You  couldn't  have 
got  much  worse  if  you  had  been  running  for  President  of  these  United 
States.  I  see  that  three  papers  of  my  beloved  home  are  now  calling 
me  ugly  names  because  my  brother  published  a  letter  in  which  I  had 
the  temerity  to  say  to  him  that  Welsh  was  a  sneak  and  Abrams  a  slouch 
and  you  a  soldier ;  but  I  never  expect  anything  better.  Why,  Hearn, 
my  boy,  forgive  me.  Something's  wrong,  and  here  I'm  rattling  away 
and  never  seeing  it." 

"  Read  that,"  said  Hearn ;  and  the  major  read,  with  wonderment 
and  concern  deepening  in  his  grizzled  face,  then  turned  away  to  the 
window  with  a  long  whistle. 

"  Well,  lad,  that  is  something  even  I  hadn't  thought  of.  By  gad, 
I'm  going  to  write  a  few  lines  to  your  good  mother  on  my  own  hook : 
she  reminds  me  of  mine.  No ;  no  shutting  yourself  up  in  your  bed- 
room now.  Come  out  here  on  the  piazza,  where  there's  sunshine,  and 
where  there  will  be  roses  presently.  Mrs.  Lane  and  Miss  Marshall  have 
gone  over  to  the  hospital  with  some  jellies  for  Brent,  and  it's  time  for 
them  to  return.  Come  out,  I  say,  or,  as  commanding  officer  of  the  post, 
I'll  send  a  file  of  the  guard  to  haul  you  out.  You've  lost  three  shades 
of  tan  in  four  days,  and  I'm  not  going  to  let  you  mope  in  here,  if  I 
have  to  annul  your  colonel's  order  of  close  arrest  and  give  you  extended 
limits.     Come  out." 

There  was  no  resisting  the  major;  there  was  no  resisting  the  deeper 


806  AN  ARMY  PORTIA. 

longing  in  his  heart.  Every  day  since  his  incarceration  Mrs.  Lane  had 
found  means  to  send  him  some  friendly  little  note,  together  with  dainties 
of  domestic  manufacture ;  every  day  she  and  Miss  Marshall  had  ap- 
peared at  least  once  or  twice  upon  the  walk  in  front,  although  he  could 
not  join  them ;  and  now  they  were  interesting  themselves  in  Corporal 
Brent,  said  the  major,  and  the  corporal  was  getting  well  enough  to  be 
read  to  a  little  while  and  to  see  some  of  his  chums  for  a  few  minutes 
and  to  inquire  how  he  had  been  hurt.  Kenyon  fairly  towed  his  prisoner 
out  through  the  hall  and  landed  him  on  the  veranda  just  as  the  noon- 
day drum  was  sounding  orderly  call,  then  rattling  out  "  Roast  Beef  of 
Old  England"  in  hoarse  accompaniment  to  the  piping  of  the  fife. 

Half  an  hour  later,  two  parasols  could  be  distinguished  above  the 
low  shrubbery  farther  east  along  the  row,  and  the  ladies  on  Burnham's 
veranda,  where  the  doctor  was  seated  in  clover,  now  that  Wallace  iiad 
ridden  away,  stepped  forward  to  the  hedge  and  accosted  the  bearers  and 
strove  to  persuade  them  to  stay.  Hearn's  heart  seemed  to  halt  in  pro- 
test, then  pounded  gladly  away  again,  for  the  delay  was  but  momentary, 
— phenomenally  short  for  feminine  chats  ;  but  the  mail  was  coming,  and 
Mrs.  Lane  was  impatient  to  get  her  letters.  Once  more  the  parasols 
came  floating  along  above  the  hedge.  One,  held  some  six  inches  higher 
than  the  other,  was  on  the  outside,  farthest  from  the  fence.  That  was 
hers,  and  she  it  must  be  who  would  first  come  in  sight  from  behind  the 
big  lilac-bush  in  Brodie's  yard.  If  Mrs.  Brodie  should  happen  to  see 
them  and  stop  them  !  But  no ;  Mrs.  Brodie  went  across  the  parade  to 
the  Crosses'  half  an  hour  ago,  thank  heaven.  Hearn's  eager  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  the  outer  edge  of  that  lovely  lilac  screen,  longing  for  the  first 
glance  of  the  face  he  had  seen  in  his  dreams  night  and  day  now  for 
nearly  a  week.  If  she  were  thinking  of  him,  if  he  were  anything  to 
her,  would  not  she  be  apt  to  look  toward  this  veranda  the  instant  she 
hove  in  sight  around  that  sheltering  bush  ?  "  Yonder  they  come  now," 
said  Kenyon,  slowly  lowering  his  boot-heels  from  the  balcony  rail. 
"  I'm  going  to  stop  them  at  the  gate  to  see  how  Brent  is." 

Another  instant,  and  once  more  the  floating  fringes  of  the  outer 
parasol  came  sailing  slowly  into  sight  beyond  the  lilacs,  then  the  white 
ferrule,  a  daintily-gloved  hand,  a  white-draped  shoulder,  then  a  proudly- 
poised,  dark-haired  head,  thick,  low-arched  eyebrows  and  long  curling 
lashes  through  a  flimsy  web  of  veil  that  hung  almost  to  the  rosy  lips, 
close  compressed  ;  then  sudden  upward  sweep  of  lash,  a  quick,  straight 
glance  from  two  deep,  dark  eyes,  a  gleam  of  joy,  of  glad  recognition, 
an  instant  parting  of  the  curving  lips  and  a  flash  of  white,  even  teeth, 
and  Hearn's  heart  throbbed  and  bounded.  She  had  seen  him  instantly, 
and  was  glad. 

Yet  it  was  Mrs.  Lane  who  had  to  do  most  of  the  talking,  for 
Georgia  Marshall  was  strangely  silent.  Every  now  and  then  her  eyes 
seemed  to  take  quick  note  of  the  pallor  of  his  face  and  the  lines  of  care 
and  trouble.  Kenyon  had  held  open  the  gate  and  quietly  steered  the 
two  ladies  to  the  veranda,  where  Hearn  was  hastily  placing  chairs ;  and 
though  the  mail-orderly  was  approaching  and  Mrs.  Lane  knew  there 
must  be  letters  from  her  captain,  she  could  not  take  Georgia  instantly 
away,  and  so  for  a  few  moments  they  sat  there,  in  their  dainty  summer 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  g07 

gowns  and  with  deep  sympathy  in  their  eyes, — eyes  so  diflferent  in  color, 
yet  so  like  in  expression,  they  would  have  cheered  a  sorer  heart  than 
Hearu's. 

The  orderly  carrying  the  mail  came  briskly  in  at  the  gate. 

"  I  left  Mrs.  Lane's  letters  at  the  house,  ma'am,"  he  said,  as  he 
handed  a  package  to  Kenyon  and  proceeded  to  unload  half  a  dozen 
bulky  newspapers  on  Hearn.  Kenyon  had  opened  his  official  letter 
with  brief  "  excuse  me,''  and  then  began  to  chuckle : 

"  Hearn,  my  boy,  they  mean  to  do  you  all  proper  honor.  Just 
look  at  this  detail,  will  you  ?     Four  or  five  colonels  and  majors  and 

half  a  dozen  captains  to  sit  in  judgment,  and well,  if  this  don't 

beat  all !  old  Lawler  himself  for  judge-advocate." 

Hearu's  face  was  flushing  and  paling  by  turns. 

"  You  don't  mean  that  Colonel  Lawler  himself  is  detailed  ?" 

"  Certainly  I  do ;  and  what  do  you  want  to  bet  the  Palladium 
doesn't  say  that  this  was  done  in  deference  to  its  suggestion  that  no 
biassed  associates  of  the  accused  officer  should  be  allowed  to  officiate, 
as  the  people  will  tolerate  no  whitewashing  of  character  in  this  most 
flagrant  case,  or  words  to  that  effect  ?  Oh,  I  know  those  fellows ! 
There's  more  conceit  in  one  newspaper  office  in  my  beloved  home  than 
in  all  the  armies  in  Christendom." 

The  ladies  had  risen,  Mrs.  Lane's  eyes  saying  plainly  to  her  friend, 
"  We  ought  to  go." 

"  Does  the  court  meet  here  ?"  asked  Hearn,  quietly.  "  Please  don't 
go,  Mrs.  Lane, — not  j  ust  yet." 

"  Indeed  we  must,  Mr.  Hearn.  I  know  yon  need  to  confer  with 
the  major  now,  and  we  will  only  be  in  the  way." 

Hearu's  eyes  had  sought  Miss  Marshall's.  She  was  standing  by 
the  balcony  with  half-averted  face,  yet  listening  intently. 

"The  court  meets  here,  and  on  Monday  of  next  week.  Verily, 
Hearn,  public  wrath  demands  a  prompt  trial  of  your  villany.  Now, 
with  Lawler  to  prosecute,  you'll  need  a  friend  to  defend.  Who  is  it 
to  be  ?" 

"  I  have  not  asked  any  one,"  said  Hearn,  slowly.  "  The  charges 
have  not  yet  reached  me.  I  do  not  know  of  what  I  am  to  be  accused, 
who  are  the  witnesses,  or  anything  about  it.  Whom  could  I  ask  to 
oppose  Lawler?" 

Miss  Marshall  had  slowly  turned,  and  now  looked  full  at  Kenyon's 
troubled  face.  Her  slender  hands  were  clasping ;  her  breath  seemed 
to  come  and  go  almost  too  quickly. 

"  There's  no  man  here  fit  to  advise  you,  Hearn,  and  I  know  of  no 
one  quite  a  match  in  subterfuge  for  that  '  Tombs  Lawler,' "  was  the  re- 
luctant answer. 

"  Then  I'll  fight  it  out  alone  as  best  I  can,"  said  Hearn,  at  last. 

The  ladies  were  going  ;  Mrs,  Lane  was  down  the  steps  already,  and 
the  major  gallantly  striving  to  raise  her  parasol.  Hearn  had  clasped 
Miss  Marshall's  slender  hand  as  she  turned  to  say  adieu,  and  the  frank 
cordial  pressure  emboldened  him.  He  would  have  held  it  firmly,  but 
as  firmly,  yet  gently,  it  was  withdrawn. 

"  Only  a  week  yet,  Mr.  Hearn,"  she  spoke,  her  bosom  rising  and 


808  AN  ARMY  PORTIA. 

falling  quickly.  "  Is  there  no  officer  you  know  to  take  up  this  case 
for  you  ?" 

"  I  fear  not,  Miss  Marshall.  You  know  I'm  not  even  a  first  lieu- 
tenant yet ;  and  he  is  a  lieutenant-colonel." 

She  looked  up  one  instant  in  his  eyes,  then  with  sudden  impulsive 
movement  held  forth  the  hand  she  had  just  withdrawn. 

"  Good-by/'  she  said,  turned  quickly,  and  was  gone. 

For  a  moment  the  two  friends  walked  on  in  silence. 

"  A  penny  for  your  thoughts,  Georgia." 

"  I  wish  I  were  a  man." 

" On  his  account,  is  it?  Don't  you  know — he  would  far,  far  rather 
have  you  just  as  you  are?" 

XIV. 

A  general  court-martial  was  in  session  at  Ryan,  and  for  three  days 
had  been  sitting  in  judgment  on  Lieutenant  Hearn.  It  was  the  first 
occasion  in  many  a  long  year  on  which  Colonel  Lawler  had  appeared 
in  the  7'6k  of  judge-advocate,  that  complex  and  contradictory  position 
wherein  the  so-called  legal  adviser  of  the  court,  having  prosecuted  in 
the  name  of  the  government  to  the  extent  of  his  ability,  proceeds  to 
demolish  his  own  elaborately-planned  attack.  It  is  the  not  infrequent 
result  of  such  a  system  that  the  exertions  of  the  prosecution  so  exhaust 
its  representatives  that  the  defence  is  left  to  its  own  devices,  and  in  the 
case  of  Colonel  Lawler,  as  has  been  said,  he  had  always  held  that  when 
an  officer  was  under  trial  the  moral  obligation  of  the  government  was 
to  find  him  guilty,  if  a  possible  thing. 

No  one  on  the  court  could  quite  understand  why  Lawler  had  been 
detailed  for  this  duty.  It  was  a  most  unusual  thing  to  call  upon  the 
officers  of  the  department  of  military  justice  itself  to  furnish  the  pros- 
ecutor ;  rather  was  it  their  province  to  remain  at  the  office  of  the 
division  or  department  commander,  and,  in  reviewing  the  records,  to 
sit  in  judgment  on  the  judges.  But  the  Palladium,  true  to  Kenyon's 
prophecy,  was  not  slow  in  explaining  the  situation.  It  was  a  case  in 
which  the  whole  people,  with  itself  as  their  representative,  had  de- 
manded the  trial  of  the  officer  who  dared  maltreat  the  man.  No  ordi- 
nary occasion  was  this,  but  one  to  attract  wide  attention  throughout  the 
entire  nation  and  be  daily  reported  by  the  press.  Colonel  Lawler  saw 
opportunity  for  distinction  hitherto  unequalled ;  he  asked  of  his  general 
the  detail  as  judge-advocate  of  the  court,  and  the  general,  though 
surprised,  saw  no  way  to  refuse. 

So  carefully  had  the  court  been  chosen  that  of  its  entire  array  of 
thirteen  members  every  man  was  personally  a  stranger  to  the  young 
soldier  whose  fate  lay  in  their  hands.  Of  all  his  regiment  not  another 
officer  was  at  the  post  when  the  court  began  to  arrive,  and  the  only 
soldier — heaven  save  the  mark  ! — was  Welsh,  now  assigned,  much  to 
their  disgust,  to  Captain  Brodie's  company  of  the  infantry  for  rations 
and  quarters  until  his  evidence  should  be  given  ;  and  Welsh  was  the 
constant  centre  of  a  group  of  newspaper  men  now  billeted  at  Central 
City  and  resenting  it  not  a  little  that  they  were  not  invited  to  put  up 
at  tlie  fort. 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  809 

But,  as  matters  stood,  the  fort  was  already  taxed  to  its  utmost 
capacity  :  the  only  quarters  in  which  there  was  room  for  the  arriving 
gentlemen  were  those  of  the  absent  cavalry  officers.  Mrs.  Morris  had 
two  spare  rooms,  and  promptly  invited  Colonels  Grace  and  Maitland, 
old  friends  of  her  husband,  to  be  her  guests.  Kenyon  took  in  three  of 
the  seniors.  Mrs.  Wharton  happened  to  know  Captain  Chase,  who  was 
one  of  the  detail,  and  scandalized  Mrs.  Brodie  by  borrowing  the  Lane 
barouche,  meeting  him  at  the  depot,  and  driving  him  straight  to  her  roof. 

"  Mind  you,"  said  that  young  matron,  "  every  man  on  this  court 
shan't  go  to  its  first  session  without  knowing  something  of  Frank 
Hearn's  real  character.     I  only  wish  I  had  room  for  more." 

Mrs.  Lane  had  no  spare  bedroom,  but  bade  her  regimental  friends 
who  had,  to  fill  them  up  with  members  of  the  court.  "  Georgia  and  I 
will  board  the  whole  array,  if  you  will  only  let  us,"  she  declared. 
"  I'll  set  a  lunch  for  the  court  at  noon,  and  dine  the  entire  party 
at  seven  every  day  they  are  here,  if  some  one  will  only  agree  to  take 
Colonel  Lawler." 

Nobody  wanted  Lawler,  and  so  he  was  one  of  the  three  relegated  to 
the  gloomy  precincts  of  old  Kenyon's  quarters  and  compelled  to  rough 
it  at  bachelor  mess.  It  was  arranged  that  eight  members  of  the  court 
should  be  quartered  among  the  cavalry  homesteads  and  otherwise  be 
entertained  at  the  Lanes'.  Of  such  are  the  expedients  to  which  gar- 
risons are  subject. 

It  was  not  until  Monday  afternoon  that  the  court  began  its  session. 
Two  officers  had  telegraphed  that  they  could  not  reach  the  post  until 
the  arrival  of  the  noon  train  ;  but  all  that  morning  and  most  of  Sunday 
the  judge-advocate  had  been  bustling  about  the  garrison,  full  of  im- 
portance and  enthusiasm.  Recognizing  the  interest  felt  in  the  case  by 
an  entire  neighborhood,  and  sedulously  active  in  providing  for  the 
needs  of  the  press,  Lawler  had  caused  the  quarters  of  C  troop  to  be 
cleared  of  all  the  iron  bunks.  Arm-racks  and  lockers  were  shifted 
away ;  a  long  table  had  been  brought  up  from  the  mess-room  under- 
neath and  set  in  the  middle  of  the  big  room,  the  president's  chair  at 
the  head,  his  own  at  the  foot,  those  of  the  members  at  the  sides. 
Another  long  table  was  provided  for  the  swarm  of  newspaper  corre- 
spondents, and  then,  for  the  general  public,  the  mess-rooms  of  the 
cavalry  had  been  ransacked,  and  benches  and  chairs  to  accommodate 
several  hundred  people  ranged  about  the  room.  It  was  Saturday  night 
when  Lawler  arrived  and  was  met  by  Major  Kenyon  and  escorted  to 
his  quarters. 

"  You  might  tell  Mr.  Hearn  that  whatever  he  may  desire  to  say  to 
me  about  the  case  I  can  hear  to-night.  You  have  no  objection  to  his 
coming  to  your  quarters,  I  suppose?" 

"  Lord,  no  !  I  like  it.  So  does  he,  generally ;  but  if  you  want  to 
see  Hearn  you'll  have  to  go  yourself." 

"  Why  ?"  said  Lawler,  reddening.  "  He  ought  to  know  that  it  is 
to  his  interest  to  seek  the  advice  and  assistance  of  the  judge-advocate. 
Of  course  he  knows  that  I  must  do  my  full  duty  in  prosecuting  the 
case ;  but,  outside  of  that,  any  service  I  can  render  him  he  has  a  right 
to  call  for." 


310  AN  ARMY  PORTIA. 

"  Oh,  he  understands ;  but,  as  he  was  given  no  opportunity  to  speak 
for  himself  when  you  were  investigating  the  case,  I  fancy  he  will  ask 
none  now,  until  he  comes  before  the  court.  Then  you  probably  will 
hear  from  him." 

"  It  might  be  very  much  better  if  he  were  to  frankly  consult  the 
judge-advocate,"  said  Lawler,  gazing  keenly  at  Kenyon  from  under  his 
shaggy  brows. 

"Very  much  better  for  the  prosecution.  But — how  better  for 
him?" 

"  Well,  those  young  men  never  gain  anything  by  fighting  a  case. 
He  had  much  better  throw  himself  on  the  clemency  of  the  court.  But 
I  suppose  some  one  has  undertaken  to  defend  him  ?"  Another  shrewd 
glance. 

"  Some  one !  yes,  I've  heard  that  several  some-ones  offered  their 
services  by  first  mail  the  moment  it  was  known  you  were  to  be  prose- 
cutor.    What  the  devil  did  you  take  it  for,  anyway  ?" 

"  You  seem  to  forget,  Major  Kenyon,  that  it  was  a  matter  of  very 
grave  importance  to  the  army  as  well  as  to  the  public,"  said  the  colonel, 
with  much  dignity.  "  Officers  who  are  rash  enough  to  seek  to  defend 
him  can  have  little  conception  of  the  feeling  aroused  throughout  the 
entire  North." 

"  True,"  said  Kenyon,  with  sarcastic  emphasis.  "  It's  one  of  the 
singular  traits  of  some  fellows  in  the  army  that,  instead  of  meekly 
knuckling  under  to  what  they  know  to  be  an  outrageous  misrepresenta- 
tion of  themselves  and  their  profession,  they  should  have  the  consum- 
mate effrontery  to  resent  even  newspaper  attacks.  Now,  you  can  hardly 
conceive  it  possible,  Colonel  Lawler,  but,  do  you  know,  there  are  actu- 
ally officers  who  think  Hearn  a  thousand  times  more  sinned  against 
than  sinning?  And,  that  being  their  conviction,  they  are  so  blind  to 
their  own  interest  as  to  be  willing  to  fight  for  it.  It  is  incomprehensible 
— to  some  people ;  but  it's  a  fact." 

And — will  it  be  believed  ? — when  Colonel  Lawler  sent  his  orderly 
to  say  that  he  would  receive  Hearn  at  Major  Kenyon's  quarters  in  case 
he  desired  to  see  him,  the  orderly  came  back  with  the  lieutenant's 
compliments  and  the  singular  response  that  the  lieutenant  knew  of  no 
reason  whatever  why  he  should  want  to  see  the  colonel  at  any  time. 

Lawler  had  conceived  it  his  duty  then  to  accost  Mr.  Hearn  on  the 
piazza  of  his  quarters,  and  blandly  to  inform  him  that  he  was  entitled, 
if  he  saw  fit,  to  call  in  the  services  of  some  suitable  friend  as  amicus 
curice.  Brodie  and  Cross  were  both  sitting  there  at  the  moment,  and 
glanced  at  each  other  with  a  grin,  as  Hearn  coolly  looked  the  judge- 
advocate  straight  in  the  eye  and  remarked  that  he  was  aware  of  the 
fact. 

"  I  thought  you  might  not  know  it,  and  I  desired  to  say  that  I 
should  interpose  no  objection,"  said  Lawler. 

"  I  am  not  aware,  Colonel  Lawler,  that  it  is  the  judge-advocate 
who  either  denies  or  consents.  It  is  the  court,  as  I  understand  it,  that 
settles  the  question."  And  Lawler  went  away  with  tingling  ears. 
Hearn's  temper  was  being  sorely  tried.  No  less  than  four  times  that 
Sunday  morning  had  he  been  called  upon  by  gentlemen  representing 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  811 

themselves  as  correspondents  for  some  paper  or  other,  each  one  of  wliora 
desired  to  interview  him  as  to  the  line  of  defence  he  proposed  adopting, 
and  really  seemed  astonished  that  he  should  decline  to  give  any  infor- 
mation on  the  subject.  And  Hearn's  replies  to  Lawler  had  been  buzzed 
around  the  garrison  with  added  emphasis  at  every  repetition. 

And  yet,  when  Monday  afternoon  came,  and,  in  the  presence  of  a 
crowded  array  of  civilians  from  all  over  the  neighborhood,  Colonel 
Lawler  impressively  inquired  the  name  of  the  gentleman  whom  the 
accused  desired  to  introduce  as  counsel,  and  even  the  fans  ceased  to 
flutter,  and  all  ears  were  intent  upon  the  reply,  and  a  dozen  pencils 
were  poised  over  the  pads  on  the  reporters'  table,  Mr.  Hearn  astonished 
almost  all  hearers  by  placidly,  even  smilingly,  responding, — 

"  Nobody." 

"  Why,  I  understood  from  gentlemen  here  at  the  post  that  you 
intended  to  introduce  counsel,"  said  Lawler,  mugh  nettled. 

"  With  all  deference  to  the  court,"  said  Hearn,  "  the  understanding 
of  the  judge-advocate  is  at  fault." 

There  was  instant  titter,  and  a  ripple  of  applause.  The  corre- 
spondents glanced  quickly  at  one  another  and  then  in  surprise  at  Hearn. 
For  a  man  who  refused  to  talk  at  their  bidding,  he  was  displaying 
unlooked-for  ability  now.  Lawler  reddened  to  the  roots  of  his  hair 
and  glanced  angrily  around. 

"  The  audience  must  keep  order,"  he  said.  "  You  are  at  liberty 
to  witness  these  proceedings,  but  audible  comment  or  any  levity  at 
attempted  witticisms  on  the  part  of  the  accused  will  not  be  tolerated." 

But  Hearn's  face  wore  a  provokingly  placid  smile.  And  the 
president,  rapping  on  the  table  with  the  hilt  of  his  sword,  called  for 
silence  and  curtly  demanded  of  the  judge-advocate  that  he  proceed 
with  the  case. 

Not  ten  feet  from  where  Mr.  Hearn  sat  by  his  little  table,  whereon 
were  his  memoranda  and  a  few  books,  Georgia  Marshall,  with  sparkling 
eyes  and  flushed  cheeks,  bent  and  whispered  to  Mrs.  Lane, — 

"  One  for  our  side." 

And  Mrs.  Wharton,  catching  the  eye  of  some  friends  across  the 
room,  very  improperly  tapped  the  back  of  her  kid-covered  thumb-nails 
together  in  mute  applause.  The  press  and  the  populace  might  be  with 
the  prosecution,  but  it  was  easy  to  see  that  there  were  loyal  and  lavish 
hearts  there  stanch  for  the  defence. 

The  court  had  not  been  authorized  to  sit  without  regard  to  hours. 
Lawler  argued  that  in  a  case  of  such  wide-spread  interest  the  sessions 
should  be  held  when  it  would  be  most  convenient  for  the  world  at  large 
to  attend,  and  by  adjourning  at  three  p.m.,  the  conventional  hour,  all 
good  citizens  would  be  able  to  get  home  in  abundance  of  time,  secure 
in  the  belief  that  nothing  would  transpire  before  they  could  return  to 
their  post  of  observation  on  the  morrow.  Nothing  of  great  consequence 
was  accomplished  on  the  first  day,  beyond  the  ceremony  of  swearing  the 
court,  which  Lawler  rendered  as  impressive  as  possible,  the  administer- 
ing of  the  judge-advocate's  oath,  which  Colonel  Grace  rattled  through 
in  a  perfunctory  style  that  robbed  the  legal  gentleman  of  the  dramatic 
effect  he  had  contemplated,  and  the  reading  of  the  charges  and  specific- 


812  AN  ARMY  PORTIA. 

cations,  which  were  breathlessly  listened  to  by  the  throng  and  most 
oratorically  delivered  by  the  judge-advocate.  There  was  something 
especially  fine  in  the  air  with  which  he  turned  and  faced  the  soldierly 
young  officer  who,  in  his  trim  fatigue  uniform,  stood  opposite  to  him 
at  the  table. 

"To  the  first  specification  of  the  first  charge,  how  say  you,  sir? — 
guilty  or  not  guilty  ?" 

And,  in  the  simplest  way  in  the  world,  the  answer  came  in  tones 
sufficiently  clear  to  be  audible  beyond  the  open  window : 

"  Not  guilty." 

And  so  to  each  and  every  specification  and  to  the  charges  of  conduct 
unbecoming  an  officer  and  a  gentleman  and  of  conduct  prejudicial  to 
good  order  and  military  discipline.  Lieutenant  Hearn  calmly  protested 
his  entire  innocence,  and  the  pleas  were  duly  recorded. 

Then  Colonel  Lawler  announced  that  in  view  of  the  importance 
and  probable  length  of  the  case  he  desired  the  services  of  a  stenog- 
rapher and  requested  the  authority  of  the  court  to  call  one  in.  The 
president  looked  perturbed ;  stenographers  were  expensive,  and  the 
last  court  he  was  on  had  been  rapped  over  the  knuckles  for  employ- 
ing one,  although  the  record  exceeded  a  hundred  and  fifty  pages  in 
length. 

"  How  long  will  you  need  one,  and  how  soon  can  you  get  him 
here  ?"  asked  Colonel  Grace. 

"  Well,  we  can  get  through  with  the  case  in  very  short  time  with  a 
stenographer,  but  it  will  take  a  week  at  least  without  one."  He  did 
not  say,  however,  that  he  had  one  already  in  the  room,  in  the  shape  of 
a  newspaper  man  from  Chicago.  Some  of  the  court  began  to  consult 
among  themselves. 

"  Make  him  write  his  own  proceedings,"  whispered  Colonel  Mait- 
land  to  the  president.  "  By  gad,  he  was  probably  the  man  that  rapped 
your  court  for  employing  one  there  at  Omaha  last  month."  Then  he 
scribbled  a  line  and  tossed  the  scrap  of  paper  over  to  Major  Putnam 
on  the  other  side,  and  passed  word  down  to  Captain  Thorp,  who  had 
been  judge-advocate  of  the  court  in  question.  It  was  evident  that  the 
members  thought  that  here  was  an  admirable  chance  to  "  work"  the 
judge-advocate,  a  thing  seldom  enjoyed ;  and  at  last  old  Grace,  hum- 
ming and  hawing  a  little,  said  that  the  court  could  not  see  the  neces- 
sity, in  view  of  the  remarks  made  by  division  head-quarters  on  a 
recent  case,  and  must  for  the  present  decline  the  request.  Whereat 
Colonel  Lawler,  in  manifest  ill  humor,  remarked  that  he  could  be  safely 
expected  to  say  what  would  and  what  would  not  be  approved  by  the 
division  commander,  and  that,  if  the  court  would  not  order  it,  he  would 
get  the  order  by  telegraph. 

"All  right,"  said  the  president;  "and  meantime  we'll  proceed 
without  one.  I  suppose  you  are  ready  with  your  first  witness,  Mr. 
Judge- Advocate  ?" 

"  If  the  court  insists,  yes ;  but  I  prefer  to  wait  until  I  hear  from 
the  telegram  which  I  am  now  writing." 

"  We  had  better  go  right  ahead,"  said  Colonel  Grace. 

And  so,  amidst  profound  silence,  the  name  of  the  first  witness 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  813 

was  called ;  and  with  the  eyes  of  the  entire  room  upon  him,  neatly 
dressed,  cleanly  shaved,  and  looking  his  very  best.  Trooper  Welsh  was 
ushered  in  from  the  outer  gallery,  was  sworn  impressively  by  Lawler, 
and  was  asked  for  his  name,  rank,  and  regiment,  and  whether  he  knew 
the  accused.  The  new  correspondent  of  the  Palladium  described  the 
hasty  glance  which  Welsh  cast  at  the  lieutenant  as  one  in  which  "  his 
glowing,  dark  eyes  kindled  with  the  pent-up  sense  of  the  wrongs 
and  humiliations  heaped  upon  him  by  the  officer  in  question."  Major 
Kenyon,  sitting  close  by  Mrs.  Lane,  looked  at  Brodie  with  swift 
whispered  comment  on  that  furtive  glance.  Miss  Marshall  never  took 
her  eyes  from  the  witness's  face. 

"  State  how  long  you  have  been  in  service,  and  with  what  company 
you  have  served." 

"  I've  been "  then  there  was  a  sudden  flutter  of  the  eyelids  and 

a  moment's  hesitation,  but  only  a  moment's, — "  I've  been  in  Troop  C, 
Eleventh  Cavalry,  about  eight  months,  stationed  here  at  Fort  Ryan. 
I  enlisted  in  St.  Louis  a  year  ago." 

The  judge-advocate  was  just  writing  out  the  answer,  when  Miss 
Marshall  leaned  over  and  whispered  a  word  to  Kenyon.  The  major 
nodded  appreciatively  and  looked  eagerly  along  the  faces  of  the 
members  of  the  court  across  the  table.  Captain  Thorp's  eyes  met  his, 
and  it  was  Thorp  who  suddenly  spoke : 

"  Tiie  witness  has  not  answered  the  question,  as  I  understand  it." 

"He  has  answered  as  the  court  understands  it,"  said  Lawler, 
sharply,  "  and  entirely  to  my  satisfaction." 

"  He  may  have  answered  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  judge-advocate, 
but  I  suggest  that  the  court  can  speak  for  itself,"  was  Thorp's  cool 
reply.  "  The  question  should  have  elicited  an  answer  as  to  the  entire 
service,  possibly  in  other  commands,  on  the  part  of  the  witness ;  and 
he  replies  only  as  to  C  troop." 

"  He  has  given  the  exact  information  I  desired,"  said  Lawler, 
hastily,  "  and  all  my  question  was  intended  to  cover.  I  protest  against 
interference  with  my  witnesses." 

Bang !  came  old  Grace's  sword-hilt  on  the  table. 

"It  is  three  o'clock,  Mr.  Judge- Advocate,  and  the  court  will 
adjourn." 

Lawler  drew  a  long  breath,  and  glanced  triumphantly  at  Thorp. 

But,  however  little  the  first  day  brought  forth,  the  second  in  no 
wise  lacked  sensation.  Welsh  and  Mr.  Levi  Schonberg,  in  terms  most 
emphatic,  had  described  the  assault  upon  the  principal  witness ;  both 
declared  that  with  brutal  violence  Welsh  had  been  dragged  forth  from 
the  bar-room  and  then  kicked  and  cuifed  all  the  way  to  the  guard- 
house ;  both  denied  the  faintest  provocation  or  excuse ;  and  then,  amid 
oppressive  stillness,  Mr.  Schonberg  had  described  his  connection  with 
the  trader's  establishment  six  years  before,  and  his  knowledge  of  the 
pecuniary  dealings  of  the  accused.  In  positive  terms  he  asserted  that 
old  Mr.  Braine  had  lent  the  accused  sums  aggregating  six  hundred 
dollars  at  different  times,  and  that  he  had  frequently  and  vainly  im- 
portuned him,  in  letters  written  by  Schonberg,  for  payment,  had  been 
ignored,  and  that  finally,  when  he,  after  the  accused  returned  to  the 


814  A^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

post,  strove  to  collect  the  amount,  he,  the  witness,  was  met  with  curt 
refusal,  denials  of  all  indebtedness,  and  finally  with  threats  and  assault. 
Nothing  much  more  connected  could  well  be  imagined.  Both  men 
were  positive  and  precise  as  to  facts  and  dates,  and  both  when  cross- 
examined  by  the  accused  stuck  stoutly  and  positively  to  their  versions. 
Another  witness  was  Mrs.  Schonberg  that  was  and  Mrs.  Braine  that 
had  been,  and  her  testimony,  though  by  no  means  truculent  or  positive, 
was  largely  in  support  of  that  of  her  Jewish  spouse.  She  was  sure  of 
the  loans  to  Hearn  ;  sure  he  had  never  repaid  them  ;  sure  that  Braine 
had  directed  them  placed  upon  the  books,  and  had  frequently  spoken 
to  her  of  them,  because  she  thought  that  he  was  too  open-handed  and 
credulous,  and  had  told  him  so. 

When  court  adjourned  at  three  p.m.  on  the  second  day  the  case  had 
gone  dead  against  Hearn,  and  Colonel  Grace  gravely  inquired  if  he 
could  not  procure  counsel  even  now ;  it  might  still  be  allowed.  But 
Hearn  quietly  shook  his  head.  Wednesday  morning  was  to  have 
brought  the  redoubtable  Mr.  Abrams  to  the  scene  to  aid  the  case  for 
the  prosecution,  but  Colonel  Lawler  was  compelled  to  say  that  the  wit- 
ness was  not  forthcoming,  and  had  not  even  answered  telegrams  sent 
him.  There  was  some  quiet  grinning  at  the  reporters'  table,  and  old 
Kenyon  breathed  a  sigh  as  he  bent  over  and  whispered  to  Brodie, — 

"  D — n  that  fellow !  He  never  meant  to  come,  and  Lawler 
knows  it.     Cross-examination  would  have  broken  him  all  up." 

But  two  other  civilians  were  produced,  who  claimed  to  be  old 
friends  of  the  late  trader,  and  one  of  these  testified  that  the  week  be- 
fore his  death  Mr.  Braine  had  declared  that  Hearn  had  refused  to  repay 
the  money  and  he  regarded  it  as  good  as  lost.  Hearn  protested  against 
this  as  "  hearsay"  and  not  testimony  under  oath.  Lawler  vowed  it 
was  material  and  confirmatory,  and  the  court  was  cleared,  to  the  utter 
indignation  of  the  correspondents  thus  compelled  to  quit  the  room  with 
the  common  herd.  Thrice  again  this  happened  during  the  day,  and 
people  grew  disgusted,  many  of  them  leaving  ;  but  those  who  remained, 
including  the  officers,  could  see  no  earthly  hope  for  Hearn.  Every- 
thing had  been  as  conclusively  proved  as  such  witnesses  could  establish 
matters,  and  the  only  chance,  lay  in  the  impeachment  of  their  testi- 
mony. 

It  was  nearly  three  o'clock  on  Wednesday  when  Lawler  said  that 
if  the  other  witness,  Mr.  Abrams,  did  not  put  in  an  appearance  he 
would  rest  the  case  for  the  prosecution.  Colonel  Maitland  inquired 
why  the  books  of  the  late  post  trader  had  not  been  produced  in  court 
in  support  of  Sch5nberg's  testimony,  and  Lawler  promptly  responded 
that  they  were  too  bulky  to  be  appended  to  the  record,  were  property 
of  the  estate,  and  he  had  not  considered  them  necessary.     However,  if 

the  court  insisted And  the  court  did.     Schonberg  was  directed  to 

bring  his  books  at  ten  o'clock  the  next  day. 

That  evening  the  party  gathered  on  Lane's  piazza  was  very  silent 
and  sad.  Kenyon  had  been  there  awhile,  and  gone  away  with  bowed 
head  and  thoughtful  eyes.  The  defence,  of  course,  had  not  begun. 
There  would  be  no  difficulty  in  utterly  defeating  the  charge  of  assault 
upon  the  soldier  Welsh ;  but  what  worried  one  and  all  was  the  testi- 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  815 

mony  of  Schdnberg  and  Braine's  relict.  If  that  held  good  with  the 
court,  then  Hearn  had  been  guilty  of  disgraceful  conduct  in  stating 
orally  and  in  writing  that  he  had  long  since  paid  those  debts.  There 
could  be  no  sentence  but  dismissal.  Hearn  had  shut  himself  up  in 
his  room.  That  day  had  brought  a  long  letter  from  his  father,  and  it 
was  this  he  was  studying,  sore  at  heart,  when  Kenyon  entered. 

"  You  haven't  slept  a  wink  for  two  nights,  lad,  and  I  know  it," 
said  the  major,  anxiously,  as  he  studied  the  worn  face  of  his  friend. 
"  I'm  going  to  call  IngersoU  in  to  prescribe  for  you."  And,  despite 
Hearn's  protest,  the  orderly  was  sent  for  the  post  surgeon. 

Meantime,  with  many  emphatic  nods  and  "  humphs,"  Kenyon  read 
the  long,  long  letter  which,  without  a  word,  Hearn  had  placed  in  his 
hand,  finishing  it  at  last,  going  over  several  pages,  and  finally  sighing 
deeply  as  he  refolded  it : 

"  It  is  just  what  I  feared,  my  boy  ;  it  is  just  what  I  feared.  Still, 
I'm  glad   he  didn't  look   upon  it  as  your  mother  thought  he  would. 

Wonder  what  she  thought  of  my  letter Hello,  here's  IngersoU 

now." 

"  I  was  at  the  hospital  with  Brent,"  said  the  medical  man,  in  some 
haste,  "  and  had  to  go  to  Lane's  first." 

"  No  one  ill  at  Lane's,  I  hope  ?"  spoke  Kenyon,  as  Hearn's  face 
was  suddenly  uplifted.     "  I've  just  come  from  there." 

"Oh,  no,  no;  but  Miss  Marshall  and  Mrs.  Lane  have  been  going 
to  see  Brent  every  afternoon,  and  this  evening  he  asked  me  to  take  a 
message  over  there.  He  wanted  to  see  them  to-night,  but  I  had  to  say 
no;  he's  too  feverish.  They  were  much  concerned  to  hear  I  had  been 
called  in  to  see  you,  Hearn,  and  I  promised  to  come  back  at  once  and 
let  them  know  how  you  were." 

A  brief  examination  showed  the  skilled  practitioner  the  extent  of 
Hearn's  malady,  and  he  insisted  on  his  coming  out.  He  would  have 
added,  "  over  to  Lane's  piazza,"  but  members  of  the  court  were  calling 
there,  and  it  would  hardly  be  the  proper  thing.  Returning  thither, 
however,  he  found  the  gentlemen  gone  and  Colonel  Lawler  just  seating 
himself  for  a  social  call. 

"  Nothing  serious,"  he  murmured  to  the  ladies,  as  he  took  a  chair, 
and  in  low  tone  began  chatting  with  the  Whartons.  It  was  Lawler's 
voice  that  broke  the  stillness;  and  Lawler,  full  of  his  profession,  could 
talk  nothing  but  "  shop." 

"  I  could  not  but  observe  your  presence  in  the  court-room,  ladies, 
even  among  the  host  of  curious  spectators.  And  how  does  a  military 
court  impress  you.  Miss  Marshall,  now  that  you  have  seen  it?" 

"  I  can  tell  you  better  when  I  have  seen  it  all,  colonel.  Thus  far 
we've  had  nothing  but  the  prosecution.  It  will  seem  less  one-sided 
after  the  defence." 

"  Ah,  that,  I  fear,  will  hardly  amount  to  anything.  The  young 
man  has  been  very  ill  advised, — very.  Possibly  you  heard  that  I  had 
offered  him  my  services, — that  is,  any  in  my  power  to  render, — and 
that  he  had  refused  ?" 

Miss  Marshall  simply  looked  at  the  colonel  a  moment,  making  no 
reply.     Finally, — 


gig  AN  ARMY  PORTIA. 

"  May  I  ask  what  services  you  could  render  him  ?  I  thought 
the  prosecution  was  your  specialty." 

"  Oh,  it  is,  certainly ;  that  is  my  bounden  duty.  Still,  if  I  knew 
what  evidence  he  had  to  oflfer, — what  witnesses  he  meant  to  call, — any 
experienced  lawyer  could  tell  him  how  best  to  conduct  the  case." 

Miss  Marshall  fairly  laughed  : 

"  That  strikes  me  as  one  of  the  most  unique  ideas  I  ever  heard, 
colonel.  If  you  belonged,  we  will  say,  to  the  combatant  force  of  the 
army,  and  had  a  position  to  defend,  would  you  detail  your  plan  of  de- 
fence to  the  adversary  ?" 

"  My  dear  young  lady,  you  totally  misapprehend  the  peculiar 
mechanism  of  our  system.  After  having  finished  the  government's 
side,  then  I  am  free  to  assist  the  accused." 

"  And  the  accused,  as  I  understand  it,  is  free  to  '  play  it  alone,'  as 
we  do  in  euchre.  Now,  do  you  know,  I  think  I  would  prefer  that 
course  to  having  an  advocate  who  was  more  than  half  an  opposer?" 

"  Well,  certainly.  Miss  Marshall,  you  cannot  congratulate  the  ac- 
cused on  his  conduct  of  the  case  thus  far.  He  would  have  stood  better 
with  the  court  at  this  minute  if  he  had  taken  my  advice,  as  he  wouldn't. 
Then  I  had  only  one  course  to  pursue." 

"Doesn't  that  look  just  a  wee  bit  as  though  he  were  being  prose- 
cuted for  declining  eminent  legal  assistance  rather  than  for  alleged 
misconduct  ?" 

Lawler  flushed,  and  again  glanced  sharply  from  under  his  sandy 
brows  and  out  of  the  corners  of  his  twinkling  eyes. 

"  You  have  a  sharp  tongue,  young  lady,"  he  said,  "  but  I  presume 
your  wit  is  made  to  match  it.  It  is  a  pity  they  could  not  be  brought 
into  requisition  in  defence  of  your  friend  before  the  court  itself.  You 
cannot  influence  me."  And  he  laughed  loudly,  and  glanced  around  as 
though  in  triumph. 

"  'Faith,  Lawler,  it's  just  as  lucky  for  you  that  Miss  Marshall  isn't 
counsel  for  the  accused.  You'll  get  knocked  endwise  when  it  comes  to 
the  defence,  anyhow,"  said  the  doctor. 

"You  think  so,  do  you?     Well,  well,  we'll  see;  we'll  see." 

The  gate  had  opened,  and  an  orderly  entered. 

"  A  telegram  for  the  commanding  officer,"  he  said. 

Kenyon  took  the  brown  envelope,  tore  it  open,  and  stepped  to  the 
hall  door-way,  where  the  light  would  fall  upon  the  page.  A  gleam 
of  sudden  satisfaction  shot  across  his  face,  and  he  turned  eagerly  to- 
ward Miss  Marshall,  whose  dark  eyes  had  followed  him.  "  Come," 
he  signalled  ;  and  she  rose  and  went  to  him. 

"  Read  this,"  he  said,  in  low  tones,  as  he  thrust  the  paper  into  her 
hand  and  sauntered  back  to  his  chair.  "  I  can  trust  you  to  keep  a 
secret." 

Lawler  gazed  after  her  with  unmistakable  curiosity,  studying  her 
face  as  she  read,  then  turned  and  looked  at  Kenyon,  who  was  osten- 
tatiously humming  the  air  Miss  Wharton  had  just  begun  playing  on 
the  piano.  What  did  it  mean?  Was  his  entertainer  in  league  with 
this  girl  who  so  dared  him  ?  Mrs.  Lane  strove  to  cover  her  friend's 
somewhat  abrupt  quitting  of  the  group  by  a  timely  word  or  two,  but 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  817 

her  question  failed  to  catch  the  lawyer's  ears.  In  a  minute  Georgia 
was  back,  had  dropped  the  despatch  over  Kenyon's  burly  shoulder  with 
the  brief  whispered  word,  "Splendid,"  and  then  almost  laughingly 
turned  on  the  judge-advocate. 

"  And  now  tell  me,  colonel,  isn't  there  such  a  thing  as  impeaching 
the  credibility  of  witnesses?" 

"Oh,  I  suppose  so  in  certain  cases;  but  what  has  that  to  do  with 
mine  ?" 

"  Yours  ?  Well,  one  would  hardly  think  your  witnesses  assailable, 
of  course;  but  even  truthful  men,  you  know,  are  sometimes  mistaken." 

"  Books  and  figures  don't  lie,  Miss  Marshall.  You  forget  the 
books." 

"  Oh,  true  !  I  forgot  the  books.  And  Mr.  Schonberg  was  book- 
keeper, too." 

XV. 

Ten  o'clock  had  come;  so  had  the  court;  so  had  the  public,  in 
numbers  largely  increased.  In  Central  City  it  was  generally  under- 
stood that  on  this  day  the  proceedings  would  be  brought  to  a  close. 
The  case  for  the  government  would  be  concluded  by  the  evidence  of 
Mr.  Abrams, — when  he  arrived, — and  by  the  exhibition  of  the  books 
of  the  late  concern  of  Braine  &  Co,  The  defence  really  had  not  a  leg 
to  stand  on.  Everybody  in  the  enterprising  community  had  been 
assured  of  this  fact  by  the  repeated  assertions  of  Mr.  Schonberg  and 
the  oracular  announcements  of  the  press  ;  and  it  was  the  popular  belief 
that  all  the  unfortunate  officer  could  do  would  be  to  assail  the  integrity 
of  the  witnesses,  which  attempt  would  be  utterly  overthrown  by  the 
vigilant  prosecutor,  who  would  then  conclude  by  a  scathing  review  of 
the  evidence,  after  which  the  court  would  promptly  adjudge  him  guilty 
and  sentence  him  to  be  stripped  of  his. uniform  and  drummed  out 
forthwith.  Probably  half  the  populace  that  thronged  the  court-room 
that  bright  June  morning  fully  expected  before  returning  to  their 
homes  to  see  an  army  lieutenant  degraded  of  his  rank  and  thrust  forth 
from  the  reservation  at  the  points  of  the  bayonets  of  the  garrison. 
Dozens  there  were  who  knew  better ;  but  a  community  reared  on  the 
pap  of  sensationalism  as  supplied  by  the  modern  press  could  not  accept 
the  mild  and  moderate  views  of  the  minority  as  a  possibility. 

"Ten-fifteen,"  said  old  Grace,  thrusting  his  watch  back  into  the 
breast  of  his  hot  uniform  coat,  and  looking  about  in  some  impatience. 
"What  keeps  Lawler?" 

"  Waiting  for  that  Jew  with  his  books.  I  believe  he's  somewhere 
in  that  crowd  on  the  piazza.  They  say  his  newspaper  man  hasn't 
turned  up  yet ;  but  I  wish  you  would  call  the  court  to  order  and  give 
him  a  rap  for  delaying  matters." 

"  Ah !  another  'bus-load  from  town,"  said  the  president,  as  there 
entered  at  the  moment  a  party  of  ladies,  escorted  by  the  sandy-haired 
judge-advocate  himself.  All  around  the  room  the  benches  were  occu- 
pied, but  behind  this  party  came  three  or  four  soldiers  carrying  chairs, 
and,  much  to  the  disgust  of  Mrs.  Brodie  and  Mrs.  Graves,  who  had 
obtained,  with  a  party  of  their  friends,  the  front  row  nearest  the  table 
^  Vol.  XLVI.— 53 


818  AN  ARMY  PORTIA. 

of  the  accused,  these  chairs  were  planted  before  them,  and  their  view 
was  cut  off  by  the  households  of  some  of  the  prominent  business-men 
of  Central  City.  So  closely  did  they  surround  Mr.  Hearn  that  he  drew 
his  seat  a  trifle  nearer  to  that  of  the  judge-advocate. 

There  was  a  little  more  space  on  the  other  side  of  the  table,  where 
the  correspondents  were,  but  they  seemed  to  prefer  not  to  crowd  these 
gentlemen,  and  nobody,  of  course,  would  think  of  intruding  between 
them  and  the  court.  It  was  almost  half-after  ten  when  a  soldier  made 
his  way  through  the  throng,  and,  saluting  Lawler,  said  something  in  a 
low  tone,  at  which  the  judge-advocate  went  over  and  whispered  to 
Grace.  A  moment  later  the  burly  form  of  Major  Kenyon  was  seen 
shouldering  a  way  through  the  court-room,  while  Dr.  Ingersoll's 
spectacled  face  appeared  just  behind  him.  Escorted  by  these  gentle- 
men came  Mrs.  Lane,  fresh,  smiling,  nodding  cheerily  to  acquaintances 
in  the  court  and  around  the  room,  looking  cool  and  radiant  in  a  spring 
costume  which  attracted  the  instant  attention  of  the  ladies  and  diverted 
their  eyes  from  Miss  Marshall,  whose  simple  but  inexpensive  toilet  was 
hardly  worthy  their  glance,  while  to  the  grosser  masculine  understand- 
ing it  was  every  whit  as  lovely  as  that  of  her  friend  and  hostess.  Be- 
hind them  all  came  Sam,  with  four  folding  chairs,  and,  there  being  no 
other  place  available,  the  major  promptly  plumped  them  down  in  front 
of  Lawler's  friends  and  motioned  his  party  to  seats.  Georgia  Mar- 
shall's color  deepened,  as  any  one  who  looked  might  see,  for  the  chair 
to  which  she  was  assigned  was  so  close  to  that  of  Hearn  that  by  simply 
putting  forth  her  hand  she  could  have  touched  his  sleeve. 

His  back  was  to  the  door,  and  he  had  not  seen  them  enter,  yet  at 
the  perceptible  hush  that  fell  upon  the  chatter  of  the  feminine  specta- 
tors he  knew  who  must  be  coming,  and  his  pale  face  brightened  with 
a  sudden  smile  as,  turning,  he  saw  her  almost  at  his  elbow.  Mrs.  Lane 
nodded  thrice,  looking  brightly  and  affectionately  in  his  eyes,  before 
she  took  her  seat,  just  as  though  her  efforts  were  to  show  all  the  throng 
that  the  women  of  the  army  held  him  guiltless.  But  Georgia  Mar- 
shall's eyes  were  hidden  for  a  moment  behind  their  drooping  lids.  It 
was  not  until  after  she  was  seated,  and  a  glance  around  had  told  her 
that  the  gaze  of  all  women  was  still  on  the  lovely  toilet  that  Mabel 
wore,  that  she  stole  a  sudden  look  at  him  and  met  the  brave  light  in 
his  wan  face. 

"  Good-morning,"  he  whispered.  "  I  had  not  looked  for  anything 
half  as  good  as  this, — to  have  you  here  so  near  me." 

"  It  was  my  fault  we  were  late ;  they  were  waiting  for  me.     I — I 

had  been  to  the  hospital  with  Dr.  IngersoU There's  so  much  to 

tell  you." 

"  Has  any  further  news  come  ?" 

"Not  that.  Something  else, — something  better.  Don't  you  see 
how  excited  the  major  is  ?" 

And  indeed  old  Kenyon  seemed  fairly  aglow.  His  eyes  were  snap- 
ping ;  his  face  was  twitching  and  redder  than  ever.  He  was  standing 
at  that  moment,  searching  all  the  windows  with  keen  glance  and  look- 
ing along  the  faces  of  the  soldiers  who  had  gathered  on  all  sides  of  the 
piazza  without.     Suddenly  he  seemed  to  see  the  features  for  which  he 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  819 

was  so  eagerly  looking,  and  with  a  quick  gesture  he  called  au  orderly 
to  his  side  and  hastily  scribbled  these  words  on  a  piece  of  paper : 
"That  third  window  on  the  west.  Get  around  there,  and  don't  let 
him  out  of  your  sight  this  day." 

"Give  that  to  the  provost-sergeant,"  he  said.  And  the  orderly 
disappeared. 

Then  came  the  voice  of  Colonel  Grace  impatiently  demanding  of 
the  judge-advocate  that  he  proceed,  and  Lawler,  who  had  been  fidget- 
ing uneasily,  arose : 

"  May  it  please  the  court,  the  witness  Abrams  has  still  failed  to 
respond ;  but  the  evidence  of  the  other  witnesses  has  been  so  conclu- 
sive that  I  feel  that  I  need  not  detain  the  court.  All  that  now  re- 
mains is  to  examine  the  books  of  the  late  post  trader,  which,  as  you 
have  demanded,  are  here  in  my  possession." 

"  The  court  will  come  to  order,"  said  Grace,  loudly. 

A  hush  fell  on  the  assembled  throng,  and  all  eyes  were  on  the 
judge-advocate,  who  was  busily  unwrapping  the  package  which  he 
produced  from  the  folds  of  the  linen  duster  he  had,  with  apparent 
carelessness,  thrown  upon  his  chair.  Two  ordinary-looking,  leather- 
bound  volumes  presently  appeared,  which  he  proceeded  to  lay  before 
Colonel  Grace : 

"  I  now  have  the  honor  to  submit  for  the  examination  of  the  court 
such  books  of  the  former  post  trader  as  bear  upon  this  case.  In  them 
will  appear  the  entries  of  the  various  amounts  advanced  by  him  to 
the  accused,  with  their  dates,  etc.,  and,  just  as  stated  by  the  witness 
Schonberg,  it  will  be  seen  that  no  payments,  beyond  a  few  trifling  sums, 
have  been  recorded.  The  amount  of  the  indebtedness  as  claimed  in 
the  specifications  will  be  found  to  agree  with  the  figures." 

As  he  spoke,  Lawler  had  opened  the  volumes  at  points  indicated 
by  slips  of  paper  and  spread  them  upon  the  table.  Gi'ace  adjusted  his 
eye-glasses  and  conned  over  one  of  the  books,  while  Maitland  took  the 
second.     The  other  members  of  the  court  silently  awaited  their  turn. 

"  r  do  not  profess  to  be  an  expert  at  book-keeping,"  said  Maitland, 
presently ;  "  but  do  I  understand  the  judge-advocate  to  say  that  the 
witness  Schonberg  swears  that  these  entries  are  correct  ?" 

Lawler  briskly  turned  over  the  leaves  of  the  record  before  him. 

"  Here  are  his  very  words,"  he  said.  "  '  I  myself  made  entries  for 
the  years  '83  and  '84,  both  in  the  day-book  and  in  the  ledger.  I  kept 
all  Mr.  Braine's  books.  He  gave  me  the  items  just  as  they  occurred, 
and  these  entries  were  made  by  me  at  the  different  dates  in  those  years 
just  as  they  were  directed  by  him.'" 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes  :  I  remember,"  said  the  colonel.  "  I  suppose  it  is  all 
correct.  Possibly  other  members  of  the  court  can  tell  more  about  this 
business  than  I  can."     And  he  passed  the  book  down  the  table. 

"Nothing  could  be  more  confirmatory  of  Schonberg's  statements," 
said  the  judge-advocate,  loudly.  "  One  has  only  to  look  at  these  pages. 
You  can  see  that  different  ink,  different  pens,  have  been  used  here, — 
primd  facie  evidence  of  their  having  been  entered  at  totally  different 
times,  instead  of  being  jotted  down  at  once,  as  might  be  claimed  by  the 
defence  but  for  this  significant  fact."   And  Lawler  looked  triumphantly 


820  ^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

about  the  room,  ending  with  a  glance  at  the  little  group  that  was  near 
Hearn's  table. 

Miss  Marshall  was  leaning  forward,  her  dark  eyes  eagerly  scanning 
the  faces  of  the  members  of  the  court,  and  watching  the  books  as  they 
passed  from  hand  to  hand.  Hearn,  pale  and  patient,  seemed  waiting 
for  the  court  to  finish  before  asking  that  he,  too,  be  permitted  to  exam- 
ine the  books. 

"Do  you  suppose  you  could  get  them  one  moment?"  whispered 
Miss  Marshall  to  the  major,  who  was  sitting  at  her  left.  "  I  had  to 
study  books  and  book-keeping  once." 

"  I'll  try,"  whispered  Kenyon.     "  Hearn  will,  anyhow." 

It  was  some  time  before  they  reached  the  foot  of  the  table.  Cap- 
tain Thorp  and  his  next  neighbor  spent  several  minutes  in  studying  the 
dates  and  figures,  and  at  last  handed  them  successively  to  the  junior 
member.  As  soon  as  this  gentleman  had  finished  his  scrutiny  of  the 
first.  Lieutenant  Hearn  held  forth  his  hand  : 

"  I  presume  I  may  be  permitted  to  examine  these  exhibits?" 

"  I  submit  to  the  court  that  the  accused  has  had  frequent  oppor- 
tunity any  time  these  last  three  months  to  examine  these  books,  that  he 
has  been  importuned,  even,  to  do  so,  time  and  again,  and  has  contemp- 
tuously refused.  In  view  of  these  facts,  his  anxiety  to  see  them  now 
strikes  me  as  an  assumption."  Lawler's  manner  was  loud  and  trucu- 
lent.    He  knew  he  was  making  a  point. 

"  Assumption  or  not,"  said  the  president,  coolly,  as  Hearn's  face 
flushed  hotly  under  the  sting,  "  it  is  the  undoubted  right  of  the  accused 
to  see  any  exhibit  produced  in  court." 

"  I  feel  bound,  then,  to  prevent  their  being  improperly  dealt  with 
while  in  his  hands,"  said  Lawler,  hanging  on  to  his  volumes  and  bent 
on  making  the  scene  as  effective  as  possible. 

"  I  will  take  all  responsibility,  sir.  You  may  be  sure  the  accused 
will  not  injure  them,"  was  Grace's  prompt  and  indignant  rejoinder. 

And  so,  having  interfered  as  long  as  possible,  the  lawyer  grudgingly 
handed  the  book  to  Mr.  Hearn,  ostentatiously  holding  it  open  so  that 
all  near  at  hand  could  see  the  array  of  items  and  figures  charged  against 
him.  In  doing  so  he  even  raised  the  volume  to  the  level  of  his  own 
shoulder,  and  the  leaf  flapped  lazily  open  until  it  stood  in  bold  relief. 

Never  moving  from  her  seat,  Miss  Marshall,  with  glowing  eyes  and 
compressed  lips,  had  silently  noted  every  word  and  motion.  She  was 
bending  forward  eagerly,  as  though  striving  at  a  distance  of  six  or 
seven  feet  to  decipher  the  writing  on  the  page  thus  glaringly  exhibited. 
When  finally  Lawler  laid  it  on  the  table  and  Mr.  Hearn  began  slowly 
studying  the  page,  she  still  retained  her  position.  Forgetful,  appar- 
ently, of  everything  around  her,  the  young  girl  was  now  so  near  that 
she  could  have  touched  the  table  at  which  sat  the  accused  soldier. 

Studying  with  pained,  troubled  face,  Mr.  Hearn  at  last  began  slowly 
turning  over  the  pages  and  looking  at  the  headings  of  the  other  accounts. 
There  was  something  which  he  evidently  desired  to  satisfy  himself 
about,  yet  everything  looked  straight  and  plausible.  Again  bent  on 
taking  every  opportunity  to  score  a  point  against  the  accused,  Lawler 
suddenly  arose : 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  821 

"  I  submit  again,  if  the  court  will  but  hear  me,  that,  while  the 
accused  has  been  accorded  the  privilege  of  examining  his  long-neglected 
account,  lie  has  no  right  whatever  to  pry  into  the  aifairs  of  other 
officers.  I  maintain  that  he  should  be  compelled  to  confine  his  atten- 
tion to  his  own  page  :  there  is  quite  enough  there." 

Kenyon  suddenly  felt  a  slim  white  hand  gripping  his  wrist  like  a 
vice.  Hearn  was  just  turning  down  a  page  after  briefly  scanning  the 
dates,  but  a  rustle  at  his  side  attracted  his  attention.  To  his  amaze- 
ment, Miss  Marshall  had  bent  forward  out  of  her  chair  and  was  eagerly 
motioning  and  whispering  to  him  : 

"  Again  !     Let  me  see  through  that  page  again." 

The  court  was  discussing  at  the  instant  the  question  raised  by 
Lawler.  Maitland  and  Thorp  protested  that  Hearn  had  a  right  to 
compare  other  accounts  with  his  own  if  he  suspected  fraud  of  any  kind. 
Hearn  himself,  with  throbbing  heart,  could  only  see  and  hear  her. 
Obedient  to  her  signal,  he  again  raised  the  leaf,  and  would  have  turned 
the  book,  so  that  she  could  read  it  right  side  up,  but  with  imperious 
gesture  she  forbade. 

"  Hold  it  as  it  is,"  she  signalled,  as,  still  bending  low,  she  seemed 
studying  every  line  of  the  paper  thus  vertically  placed  between  her 
and  the  sunshine  flooding  in  at  the  open  barrack  w'indow. 

"  Quick,  now  !  More  !  more  !"  she  motioned.  And,  wondering, 
he  turned  several  pages,  holding  each  a  moment  or  two.  But  she 
shook  her  head  impatiently  and  signalled,  "  Go  on  !"  until  in  succession 
half  a  dozen  leaves  were  turned ;  then,  with  eager  light  in  her  eyes, 
again  she  held  up  a  warning  hand,  and  the  page  was  stopped. 

"  Very  well,  then,"  Lawler  was  saying  at  this  moment,  with  sar- 
castic emphasis.  "  On  the  principle  that  misery  loves  company,  I 
suppose  we  must  accord  him  the  privilege  of  viewing  the  accounts  of 
his  fellow-debtors."  And,  with  this  fresh  piece  of  civil  legal  practice 
on  his  lips,  the  judge-advocate  turned  to  the  group  on  his  left  and 
stopped  short  in  amaze. 

Hearn,  utterly  lost  to  what  was  going  on,  was  gazing  with  all  his 
eyes  at  Miss  Marshall,  who,  flushed,  eager,  almost  radiant,  once  more 
was  leaning  back  in  her  chair,  but  signalling  to  close  the  book.  It 
was  Kenyon  now  who  was  half  rising  and  whispering  sudden  impetu- 
ous words  to  Hearn. 

For  a  moment  Lawler  knew  not  what  to  think  or  say.  Something 
told  him  that  the  cause  he  represented  was  in  peril.  A  sense  of  disaster 
flashed  upon  him. 

"  At  least  the  accused  will  have  the  decency  to  refrain  from  exhibit- 
ing officei"s'  private  accounts  to  the  public,"  he  said,  with  sudden  return 
to  his  old  manner,  "  and,  if  he  be  through  with  the  examination,  return 
these  exhibits  to  me,  that  I  may  close  the  case, — unless,  perhaps,  he 
desires  to  offer  something  further  upon  this  subject." 

Miss  Marshall's  fingers  were  twisting  a  tiny  slip  on  which  she  had 
hurriedly  pencilled  a  word  or  two.  One  instant  more,  and  it  was  with 
Hearn.  She  had  bent  forward  to  pick  up  a  fluttering  scrap  of  paper ; 
her  deft  fingers  had  but  for  the  instant  touched  his  drooping  hand. 
Opening   it,  he  read,  "Recall   Schouberg   instantly."     Surprised,  he 


822  ^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

glanced  at  her,  but  purposely  she  had  averted  her  eyes.  Keuyon  was 
vehemently  nodding. 

"  I  must  ask  that  Mr.  Schonberg  be  recalled,"  said  Hearn.  "  There 
is  new  matter  here,  upon  which  I  need  to  question  him." 

"The  accused  has  already  had  opportunity  to  cross-examine  the 
witness,  and  has  no  further  right,"  said  Lawler. 

"  I  repeat  that  there  is  new  matter  before  the  court  in  the  introduc- 
tion of  these  exhibits,  on  which  I  have  a  perfect  right  to  question," 
replied  Hearn. 

"It  is  simply  delaying  matters,"  persisted  Lawler.  "When  the 
accused  said  he  had  no  further  questions  to  ask,  yesterday,  I  excused 
the  witness,  and  he  is  now  miles  away,  and  cannot  be  had  until  morning, 
if  he  can  then." 

"  The  man  is  not  fifty  feet  away  at  this  moment,"  said  Kenyon,  with 
sharp  emphasis  and  a  voice  that  rang  through  the  room. 

"  When  did  the  gentleman  become  counsel  in  this  case,  I  beg  to 
know  ?"  sneered  the  judge-advocate.  "  I  protest  against  this  disorder 
and  interference  with  the  court." 

"  Major  Kenyon  gives  us  important  information.  Colonel  Lawler," 
said  Grace,  "  and  if  the  man  is  here  the  court  desires  that  he  be  recalled 
at  once." 

Lawler  reddened  with  wrath.  "  If  you  know  where  he  is,  call 
him  in,"  said  he  to  Kenyon.  And  all  eyes  were  turned  to  the  door, 
where  presently,  escorted  by  the  orderly  of  the  court,  Mr.  Schonberg 
appeared,  hat  in  hand,  bowing  profusely  and  politely  to  the  court,  yet 
looking,  as  Mr.  Martin  expressed  it,  "  rather  pasty  about  the  gills." 
He  was  scuttling  down  the  back  stairs  when  headed  off  by  the  provost- 
sergeant.  He  had  doubtless  heard  the  summons  for  his  recall,  and  had 
hoped  to  get  out  of  the  way.  All  eyes  but  Hearn's  and  Kenyon's, 
Mabel  Lane's  and  Georgia's,  were  upon  him.  With  lightning  speed  the 
latter  was  writing  a  little  note,  and  this,  too,  a  moment  later,  was  in  the 
young  lieutenant's  hand.  He  read  it.  A  wild  light  of  wonderment 
and  incredulity  leaped  into  his  face.  He  hastily  raised  the  volume 
between  him  and  the  opposite  window,  held  a  leaf  between  him  and 
the  sunshine,  gazed  quickly  and  earnestly,  and  then,  laying  the  book 
once  more  on  the  table,  turned  with  swimming  eyes  and  looked  full 
upon  her,  his  lips  quivering,  his  face  aglow  with  joy,  hope,  gratitude, 
and  a  fervor  of  admiration  and  worship  no  woman  on  earth  could  fail 
to  see ;  but  Georgia's  downcast  face  was  hidden ;  she  had  drawn  her 
fan  like  Spartan  shield .  between  her  glowing  cheek  and  the  kindling 
eyes  she  dared  not  meet. 

It  was  Lawler's  rasping  voice  that  recalled  the  young  soldier  to  his 
senses : 

"  Well,  sir,  the  witness  is  here." 

There  was  a  silence  as  of  solitude  in  the  great  heated  room.  Obe- 
dient to  the  clumsy  formality  of  a  military  court,  Mr.  Hearn  slowly 
wrote  his  question  on  a  slip  of  paper  and  handed  it  to  the  judge-advo- 
cate :  the  latter  read  it,  threw  it  down,  and  pettishly  exclaimed, — 

"This  is  mere  waste  of  valuable  time,  I  say.  The  witness  has 
practically  answered  this  all  before." 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  823 

"  What  is  the  question  ?"  asked  the  president. 

"  The  accused  asks  the  witness  to  state  to  the  court  what  reason  he 
has  for  being  so  positive  about  the  time  these  entries  were  made.  So 
long  as  my  witness  is  positive,  I  conceive  it  to  be  no  affair  of  the  defence 
why  or  how  he  is." 

"  Oh,  I  see  no  especial  object  in  the  question,"  said  Grace,  "  yet  there 
is  no  impropriety  in  asking  it.  At  all  events,  I  am  entirely  willing  to 
bear  the  responsibility.     The  witness  will  answer." 

Could  he  but  have  seen  the  flash  of  gratitude  in  Miss  Marshall's 
eyes  !  It  was  only  a  flash.  Almost  instantly  again  they  were  fixed  on 
the  pudgy  features  of  the  witness. 

"  Why,  certainly,  gentlemen,  I  can  answer.  Mr.  Braine  died  in  the 
spring  of  '85,  and  couldn't  have  told  me  to  make  those  entries  afler  he 
was  dead,  could  he?  No.  They  were  made,  just  as  I  said,  in  the 
winter  of  '83  and  during  the  year  of  '84,  just  when  he  told  me  to  make 
them." 

"  Are  you  satisfied  ?"  asked  the  judge-advocate,  turning  sharply  to 
Hearn. 

"  One  moment,"  answered  that  young  gentleman,  placidly,  as  his 
pencil  rapidly  copied  another  question  on  the  slip  before  him.  Finish- 
ing this,  he  arose.  "  I  beg  to  ask  the  especial  attention  of  the  court  to 
this  question,"  he  said. 

There  fell  a  hush  as  of  death  upon  the  throng.  With  parted  lips 
Georgia  Marshall  again  bent  eagerly  forward  until  she  could  see  the 
Jew's  twitching  face.  Schonberg  turned  a  shade  paler  and  glanced 
half  appealingly  up  at  the  lawyer,  who,  with  a  sneer  of  assumed  con- 
tempt, held  forth  his  hand  for  the  slip.  But  Hearn  looked  straight  into 
Lawler's  eyes.  The  judge-advocate  took  the  paper,  turned  it  carelessly 
over,  elevated  his  nose  with  apparent  indifference,  leaned  back  in  his 
chair,  glanced  at  it, — started. 

"  Let  me  see  that  book,"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  sprang  to  his  feet, 
holding  forth  an  eager  hand. 

"  Presently,  sir,"  answered  Hearn,  holding  the  volume  behind  him. 
"  Kindly  put  the  question  first." 

"  Don't  let  that  book  go !"  whispered  Miss  Marshall,  hastily,  her 
words  addressed  to  Kenyon,  yet  meant  for  and  heard  by  Hearn.  Mabel 
Lane's  face  was  flushing  with  excitement.  Every  eye  in  the  room  was 
intent  on  the  scene. 

"What  is  the  question,  Mr.  Judge- Advocate?"  sharply  inquired 
Colonel  Grace.     "  Why  do  you  seek  to  suppress  it  ?" 

"  I  protest  against  the  insinuation,  sir.  I  simply  seek  to  protect  an 
honest  man  from  insult.  I  ask  the  accused  for  a  book  that  I  may 
satisfy  myself  he  has  reason  for  a  question  otherwise  unjustifiable." 

"  Mr.  President,  I  demand  the  question  as  a  right !"  exclaimed 
Hearn,  in  tones  thrilling  with  excitement  and  ringing  through  the  court. 
"  The  witness  has  sworn  he  made  these  entries  in  '83  and  84.  Look, 
gentlemen,  look  at  this  page,  one  and  all,  and  compel  the  answer." 

He  sprang  forward  and  laid  the  book  in  Grace  s  hand  : 

"  Hold  it  to  the  light,  sir.  Look  at  the  water-mark.  I  demand 
an  answer  to  my  question." 


824  ^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

Trembling  with  emotion,  his  blue  eyes  ablaze,  his  fingers  working 
nervously,  the  young  soldier  towered  above  the  heads  of  the  court. 
Every  breath  in  all  the  great  room  seemed  hushed,  though  hearts  beat 
and  hammered  like  mad.  All  eyes  were  on  Grace  now,  as  he  adjusted 
his  glasses,  held  the  page  aloft,  and  scrutinized  the  paper.  Then,  with 
a  quick  gleam  in  his  sharp  old  eyes,  he  beckoned  excitedly  to  Maitland, 
pointed  with  his  forefinger  to  the  waving  lines  of  the  water-marks, 
and  dropped  the  book  upon  the  table,  his  finger  between  the  leaves,  a 
threatening  frown  on  his  brow. 

"  Put  the  question,  Mr.  Judge-Advocate,"  his  stern  voice  was  heard 
through  the  room. — "  And  you,  sir,  answer." 

Lawler  hesitated  one  minute,  glancing  dubiously  around.  Then, 
as  though  seeing  the  hopelessness  of  resistance,  he  read,  in  accents  that 
trembled  despite  his  efforts,  these  words  : 

"  How  was  it  possible  for  you  to  write  in  '83  and  '84  on  paper  that 
was  not  manufactured  until  two  years  afterward  ?" 


XVI. 

When,  half  an  hour  later.  Colonel  Lawler  announced  that,  in  view 
of  circumstances  to  which  the  court  appeared  to  attach  so  much  signifi- 
cance, he  would  rest  the  case  for  the  prosecution,  he  had,  despite  every 
effort,  and  the  professional  bravado  assumed  for  such  occasions,  all  the 
air  of  a  whipped  man.  For  half  a  minute  after  hearing  that  stunning 
question  Mr.  Schonberg  had  sat  glaring  at  the  judge-advocate,  his  eyes 
protruding,  his  mouth  wide  open,  his  face  ghastly  white.  Then  he 
mopped  his  forehead,  recalled  to  himself  by  Grace's  sharp  tones,  as  the 
president  again  demanded  answer,  and  faltered  out, — 

"  I  ton't  understand  the  question." 

"  You  are  called  upon  to  explain  to  this  court  how  it  was  possible 
for  you  to  have  made  those  entries  in  '83  and  '84,  as  you  have  solemnly 
sworn  you  did,  when  the  paper  itself  was  not  made  until  1886," 
thundered  Grace ;  "  and  the  court  is  waiting  for  your  answer." 

"  The  paper  vasn't  made  until  1886  ?"  faltered  Schonberg. 

"  No,  sir  !"  fairly  shouted  the  wrathful  old  soldier  in  the  president's 
chair.  "  No,  sir  !  You  failed  to  study  the  water-marks.  Here  it  is 
repeated  on  a  score  of  these  leaves:  'Sconset  Valley  Mills,  1886.'  I 
say,  explain  this  if  you  can." 

"  I  ton't  know  anything  about  that,"  muttered  the  Jew  at  last, 
gulping  down  the  big  lump  that  arose  in  his  throat.  "I  know  when  I 
made  those  entries,  anyhow." 

But  the  whole  roomful  could  see  that  the  wretch  was  only  lying, — 
desperately  lying.  The  pencils  of  the  correspondents  were  flying  over 
their  blocks  with  furious  speed.  One  excited  ambassador  of  the  press 
had  already  made  a  lunge  through  the  crowd  for  the  door-way. 

"  Mr.  Judge- Advocate,"  said  the  president,  at  last,  "  I  fancy  you 
can  now  excuse  your  witness  from  further  attendance.  Stop,  though. — 
Have  you  anything  else  you  would  wish  to  ask,  Mr.  Hearn  ?"  And 
now  his  manner  was  all  courtesy. 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  825 

"Not  a  word,  sir,"  was  the  smiling  answer.  "I  shall  beg  to 
submit  the  list  of  my  witnesses  in  a  few  moments." 

People  seemed  to  draw  aside  and  make  a  wide  lane  for  the  wretched 
Hebrew  and  his  crest-fallen  counsellor,  as  the  latter  led  his  unscrupu- 
lous witness  to  the  outer  gallery,  whither  Lawler  said  he  desired  to 
retire  for  a  moment's  consultation.  So  entire  had  been  the  confidence 
of  the  mass  of  the  people  in  the  guilt  of  the  officer  that  Schonberg's 
shady  reputation  had  not  sufficed  to  warn  them  of  the  possibilities  in 
the  case.  But  among  educated  and  better-informed  people  present  there 
broke  forth  suddenly,  after  a  moment's  breathless  silence,  a  ripple  of 
applause  that  speedily  swelled  into  a  joyous  burst  of  hand-clapping 
which  was  taken  up  all  over  the  room,  and  for  a  moment,  mingled  with 
angry  hisses  on  the  part  of  a  few  pronounced  socialists  in  the  throng, 
who  were  furious  at  the  sudden  turn  in  favor  of  the  hated  official  class, 
the  clamor  was  unchecked.  Stern  as  he  was,  old  Grace  could  not  deny 
the  audience  the  right  of  such  a  reaction.     Then  he  rapped  for  order. 

"You  are  not  ready,  I  presume,  to  proceed  with  your  defence?" 
said  Lawler,  a  moment  after,  as  he  re-entered  the  room  and  glanced 
nervously  around.  All  his  airy,  confident  manner  was  gone.  He 
looked  almost  dazed. 

"  Certainly,"  was  the  prompt  reply.  "  Have  the  goodness  to  call 
in  Private  Welsh." 

"  May  it  please  the  court,"  said  Lawler,  "  I  submit  that  the  accused 
should  furnish  the  list  of  witnesses  he  desires  to  summon,  in  order  that 
it  may  be  determined  for  what  purpose  they  are  called,  and  whether 
the  expense  will  be  justified,"  said  Lawler,  in  response.  "And  as  for 
Welsh,  I  maintain  that  that  unfortunate  trooper  has  already  suffered 
too  much  at  the  hands  of  the  accused  to  warrant  his  being  subjected  to 
further  ignominy,  as  he  would  be  if  the  court  allowed  such  treatment 
as  was  accorded  my  last  witness." 

"  If  he  is  at  all  like  your  last  witness.  Colonel  Lawler,  ignominy 
will  not  inaptly  express  the  idea,"  was  Grace's  sarcastic  response; 
whereat  "  an  audible  grin"  spread  over  the  room. 

"  Do  you  wish  to  summon  witnesses  from  abroad,  Mr.  Hearn  ?" 

"  Not  one,  sir.  Every  man  I  need  will  be  at  the  post  by  one 
o'clock  this  afternoon ;  and,  except  Welsh,  who  is  understood  to  be 
under  the  especial  charge  of  the  judge-advocate  and  amenable  to  orders 
from  nobody  else,  I  will  not  trouble  the  court  to  call  on  anybody  :  the 
others  will  be  glad  to  come." 

Lawler  shook  his  head  and  looked  dissatisfied.  If  he  could  only 
know  the  men  whom  the  defence  was  introducing  and  could  find  out 
what  they  meant  to  testify,  it  might  be  still  in  his  power  to  avert  at  least 
public  catastrophe.  Shrewd  enough  to  see  the  evident  antagonism  he 
had  created,  and  knowing  that  matters  were  going  topsy-turvy  at  the 
moment,  he  bethought  him  of  a  ruse  by  which  he  could  get  rid  of  the 
crowd  : 

"  I  beg  the  indulgence  of  the  court.  I  have  allowed  the  case  for 
the  prosecution  to  rest  rather  than  infringe  longer  on  time  that  is  so 
valuable,  but  I  find  myself  unable  to  proceed  at  this  moment,  and  I 
beg  that  you  take  a  recess  until  two  p.m." 


826  AN  ARMY  PORTIA. 

The  court  demurred.  It  was  utterly  adverse  to  a  recess.  Hearn's 
witnesses  were  all  ready  to  proceed, — four  or  five,  at  least. 

"  What  is  the  need  ?"  asked  Thorp  and  Maitland,  neither  of  whom 
felt  like  giving  Lawler  an  inch  of  leeway.  But  courtesy  to  the  staff- 
officer  of  the  division  commander  prevailed. 

It  was  barely  eleven  o'clock  when  the  throng  came  pouring  forth 
from  the  court-room,  and  Lawler  hoped  that,  rather  than  wait  three 
hours,  the  mass  of  the  people  would  depart.  But  his  hopes  were  vain. 
If  anything,  tlie  number  seemed  augmented.  The  noon  train  brought 
a  couple  of  car-loads  from  the  eastward  towns.  It  also  brought  a 
sergeant  and  private  of  infantry  escorting  a  dilapidated-looking  party 
in  shabby  civilian  dress  whom  old  Kenyon,  the  adjutant,  and  a  file  of 
the  post-guard  were  at  the  station  to  meet.  The  stranger  was  bundled 
into  an  ambulance  and  trotted  up  to  the  guard-house,  into  which  he 
slouched  with  hanging  head  and  an  air  of  general  dejection  ;  and  while 
the  men  were  at  their  soldier  dinner  Kenyon  was  busily  interviewing 
his  tough-looking  prisoner,  a  squad  of  excited  newspaper  men,  mean- 
time, kicking  their  heels  outside  and  raging  at  the  military  assumption 
which  gave  the  post  commander  precedence  over  the  press.  The  word 
had  gone  out  all  over  the  crowded  garrison  that  the  escaped  prisoner 
Goss  was  recaptured,  and  the  commanding  officer's  orderly  had  been 
rushed  with  a  note  to  the  provost-sergeant. 

"  You  bet  he'll  not  get  away,"  muttered  this  veteran  of  Brodie's 
company,  as  he  glanced  along  the  lively  mess-room,  where  the  big 
bowls  of  bean  soup  were  being  emptied  by  rare  soldier  appetites. 
"You  bet  he  don't,  unless  he  can  carry  a  cart-load  of  lead  in  him." 

Twenty  minutes  after.  Corporal  Greene  of  the  guard  came  to  the 
door- way  and  sung  out, — 

"Say,  fellers,  who  do  you  think's  captured  and  brought  back? 
Trooper  Goss,  begad,  the  bosom  friend  of  the  patriotic  Welsh." 

And  Welsh  dropped  his  spoon  and  his  eyes  and  turned  a  dirty 
yellow.  He  essayed  presently  to  quit  the  table,  but  the  old  sergeant 
bent  over  him  : 

"  Finish  yer  dinner,  me  buck.  Don't  let  eagerness  to  see  yer 
friend  spoil  yer  appetite.  You  can't  see  him,  anyway,  till  he  has 
given  his  testimony  before  the  court ;  and  they'll  want  you,  too,  Welsh, 
me  jewel,  and  I'm  charged  not  to  lose  you, — d'ye  mind  that,  Welsh  ? — 
and  I  never  lose  anything  but  an  occasional  slice  of  me  temper.  Ate 
yer  dinner,  like  the  high-spirited  American  ye  are,  now."  But  Welsh's 
appetite  was  gone. 

The  court-room  was  crowded  to  suffocation  that  afternoon  when, 
sharp  at  two  o'clock.  Colonel  Grace  rapped  for  order : 

"  I  suppose  you  are  ready  now.  Colonel  Lawler  ?  Call  in  the  first 
witness." 

Lawler  looked  resigned,  even  martyred.  The  court  had  come  back 
from  luncheon  at  the  Lanes'  in  high  spirits.  The  ladies  again  sat  close 
to  Hearn's  table.  Private  Goss,  with  untrimmed  beard  and  an  air  of 
general  dilapidation,  was  sworn  by  the  judge-advocate,  gave  his  name, 
rank,  regiment,  etc.,  and  responded,  in  answer  to  Lawler's  question,  that 
he  did  know  the  accused  very  well. 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  827 

"  What  do  you  want  to  ask  the  witness  ?"  said  Lawler,  in  a  tone 
as  much  as  to  say,  What  could  you  ask  that  would  be  of  any  earthly 
account  ? 

"  State  where  and  how  long  you  have  known  Private  Welsh,  C 
troop,  Eleventh  Cavalry,"  were  the  words  on  the  pencilled  slip,  and 
Lawler  read  them  grudgingly. 

"  I've  known  him  six  or  eight  years.  Knew  him  when  he  enlisted 
in  the  Twenty-Third,  where  he  went  by  the  name  of  Webster.  Served 
with  him  at  Fort  Wayne  until  he  got  a  '  bobtail'  discharge,  and  when 
I  got  mine  I  went  to  his  home  in  Ohio  and  hunted  him  up.  He  owed 
me  money,  but  he  was  no  good, — couldn't  pay  it.  His  people  wouldn't 
do  anything  more  for  him.  He  was  Mrs.  Blauvelt's  nephew,  but  she 
had  about  got  tired  of  trying  to  support  him,  so  we  came  away  and 
enlisted  again,  in  the  cavalry  service  this  time,  and  then  he  got  things 
fixed  to  go  into  Blauvelt's  troop  for  both  of  us." 

"  What  was  your  reason  for  deserting  here  while  awaiting  trial  ?" 
was  the  next  question. 

"  Well,  both  Welsh  and  Schonberg  told  me  I  was  bound  to  be  con- 
victed. Everything  pointed  to  my  being  Corporal  Brent's  slugger, 
though  I  swear  to  God  I  never  left  the  barracks  that  night.  They 
said  if  I  didn't  get  away  before  the  court  tried  me  I  might  get  several 
years  in  State's  prison  at  hard  labor,  and  worse  still  if  he  didn't  recover. 
Welsh  and  Schonberg  both  said  that  there  was  no  show  for  me,  the 
evidence  was  so  clear,  even  to  the  red  pepper  in  the  pockets.  Some 
scoundrel  put  it  there,  and  wore  my  things,  too.  Welsh  got  put  into 
the  guard-room,  purposely,  opposite  my  cell,  and  threw  a  stone  with  a 
string  through  the  grating,  and  I  hauled  on  it  and  got  a  letter  from 
him  and  Schdnberg  telling  me  how  to  escape.  There  were  saws  and 
tallow  in  the  package  I  drew  in,  and  Schonberg  was  down  in  the 
bottom  with  a  buggy  after  I  got  out,  and  he  drove  me  nearly  all  night 
around  by  way  of  Barclay  to  the  other  road,  and  sent  me  by  rail  to 
Omaha,  where  he  promised  that  plenty  of  money  would  come  to  me;  but 
no  money  came  at  all,  and  I  was  recognized  and  arrested  by  the  police." 

"  Had  you  any  idea  that  there  were  other  reasons  for  getting  you  to 
desert  than  the  one  given  ?" 

Lawler  bounced  up  and  objected  to  both  question  and  answer ;  but 
both  were  ordered  recorded. 

"I  hadn't — then,"  was  the  sullen  reply:  "I'm  not  so  sure  now. 
That  Jew  got  me  to  go  because  I  accused  him  of  being  a  receiver  of 
stolen  property.  It  was  him  Welsh  gave  the  papers  he  took  from  the 
lieutenant's  desk  in  Captain  Blauvelt's  quarters.  I  went  there  with 
him  one  night  after  taps  when  the  lieutenant  was  officer  of  the  guard, 
and  Schonberg  gave  Welsh  ten  dollars  and  me  five  to  keep  mum.  After 
that  Welsh  began  to  run  with  Schonberg  entirely  and  turn  against  me, 
and  it  was  through  him  that  I  was  always  getting  into  trouble." 

In  vain  Lawler  propounded  questions  tending  to  show  his  witness, 
thus  assailed,  in  a  better  light;  but  the  more  he  examined  the  more 
damaging  was  Goss's  testimony.  At  last  the  witness  slouched  out 
under  escort  of  a  sentinel. 

But  a  greater  sensation  still  was  awaiting  the  patient  listeners  in 


828  ^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

the  court-room.  The  next  man  to  enter,  leaning  heavily  on  the  arm 
of  the  hospital  steward,  and  accompanied  by  Dr.  Ingersoll,  was  Corporal 
Brent,  looking  white  and  feeble,  but  very  calm  and  self-possessed. 

"  Give  your  full  name,  rank,  and  regiment,"  said  the  judge-advocate, 
without  looking  up. 

"  The  name  under  which  I  enlisted  is  Malcolm  Brent,  corporal 
Company  C,  — th  Infantry." 

"  The  court  will  note,  I  trust,  the  singular  character  of  the  witnesses 
introduced  by  the  accused,"  said  Lawler,  promptly.  "  The  last,  by  his 
own  admission,  is  a  thief  and  a  deserter  whom  Welsh  very  properly 
essayed  to  cut  loose  from  on  discovering  his  real  character ;  and  now 
we  have  a  second  who  plainly  intimates  that  the  name  he  gives  is  not 
his  own." 

"  It  is  the  one  by  which  he  is  known  to  military  law  all  the  same, 
Colonel  Lawler.     Please  to  proceed,"  said  Colonel  Grace,  testily. 

"  You  know  the  accused,  I  presume,  or  he  would  not  have  called 
upon  you  ?"  was  Lawler's  snapping  query  of  the  witness. 

"  Only  as  a  soldier  knows  an  officer  whom  he  has  every  reason  to 
respect.  I  have  never  exchanged  a  word  with  the  gentleman,  but  I 
recognize  him  as  Lieutenant  Hearn,  of  the  Eleventh  Caivalry." 

Again  there  was  a  ripple  of  applause  in  the  crowded  court,  which 
brought  Lawler,  angry  and  protesting,  to  his  feet.  Silence  restored, 
he  presently  read  aloud  the  next  question  from  a  slip  handed  him  by 
Mr.  Hearn,  which  he  slowly  pasted  on  the  sheet  before  him : 

"  What  do  you  know  with  regard  to  the  amounts  charged  against 
the  accused  on  the  books  presented  before  this  court  and  alleged  to  be 
unpaid  ?" 

"  I  know  that  they  were  paid  long  ago.  I  heard  the  story  of  the 
whole  transaction  from  the  lips  of  Captain  Rawlins  himself." 

"  Hearsay  evidence,"  promptly  interrupted  the  judge-advocate, 
rapping  on  the  table. 

"  But  Schonberg's  written  acknowledgment  and  this  letter  of  Captain 
Rawlins  will  not  be  so  considered,"  answered  the  witness,  respectfully, 
and,  bending  forward,  he  placed  on  the  judge-advocate's  table  a  little 
package  of  papers.  The  court- room  was  hushed.  Even  the  pencils  of 
the  correspondents  were  arrested.  Every  eye  in  all  the  throng  was  on 
the  pale  face  of  the  young  corporal.  Members  of  the  court  had  whirled 
around  in  their  chairs,  so  as  to  look  full  upon  the  new  witness.  Old 
Kenyon,  with  lifted  spectacles,  brimming  over  with  eagerness  and  ex- 
citement, was  fidgeting  on  his  chair.  Pretty  Mrs.  Lane,  all  smiles,  was 
keeping  her  fan  in  lively  yet  noiseless  play.  Georgia  Marshall's  heavily- 
fringed  lids  were  drooping  over  her  downcast  eyes  ;  but  the  soft,  summer 
fabric  of  her  dress  rose  and  fell  upon  her  bosom  like  the  billows  of  an 
unquiet  sea.  She  was  seated  where  every  word  of  the  witness  could 
reach  her  ears,  but  no  longer  so  near  the  little  table  where  sat  the  calm 
young  soldier  whose  trial  had  nearly  reached  an  end.  There  was  no 
longer  need  of  counsel  for  the  accused ;  yet  his  eyes,  time  and  again, 
glanced  yearningly  at  her. 

Lawler  was  the  first  to  speak.  He  dandled  the  papers  contemptu- 
ously as  he  glanced  them  over : 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  g29 

"  These  are  of  no  earthly  account, — mere  forgeries,  possibly.  One 
only  purports  to  be  a  duplicate,  anyhow." 

"  Duplicate  of  what,  sir  ?  The  court  will  be  glad  to  look  at  those 
papers  when  you  are  through  with  them,"  said  Colonel  Grace. 

"I  object  to  their  introduction  as  evidence,  in  any  event,  and  pro- 
test against  their  admission  here.  What  possible  business  can  a  corporal 
of  infantry  be  having  with  the  private  papers  of  a  deceased  officer,  any- 
way ? — Where  did  you  know  the  late  Captain  Rawlins, — even  supposing 
that  he  did  write  that  letter  ?" 

"  Any  question  on  that  score  the  court  may  choose  to  ask  I  will 
answer,"  was  the  reply,  with  quiet  self-possession.  "  But  I  can  swear 
to  the  genuineness  of  both  papers." 

Captain  Thorp  had  already  possessed  himself  of  the  duplicate 
receipt,  and,  after  a  brief  glance,  tossed  it  over  to  the  opposite  member. 

"  Schonberg,  without  a  doubt,"  he  whispered. 

Meantime,  old  Grace  had  received  and  was  conning  over  the  other, 
which  he  suddenly  lowered  and  looked  in  amaze  at  the  calm  face  of  the 
witness,  then  handed  it  to  Maitland,  who  read,  started,  and  gazed  too. 

"  I  know  this  hand,  sir.  I  know  it  as  that  of  an  old  and  valued 
friend,"  said  Maitland,  with  lips  that  quivered  perceptibly.  "  I  could 
almost  swear  to  its  genuineness  myself.  It  is  probably  one  of  the  last 
letters  the  dear  old  fellow  ever  wrote,  and  it  is  to  his  boy  at  college. 
Here,  Thorp,  you  read  it  aloud."  And,  though  Lawler  would  have 
protested,  protest  was  useless.  Thorp  arose,  clicking  his  heels  together 
as  though  on  drill,  and,  in  a  voice  that  was  audible  all  over  the  big 
room,  read : 

"  Fort  Graham,  New  Mexico,  June  14,  188-. 

"  My  dear  Malcolm, — 

"It  seems  hardly  possible  that  three  weeks  ago  I  was  with  you 
under  the  elms  of  the  old  campus,  listening  to  college  glees  and  seeing 
the  glad  faces  of  your  class-mates, — as  manly  a  set  of  young  fellows  as 
it  was  ever  my  lot  to  meet, — and  now  here  I  am  again  in  harness  under 
a  blazing  sun,  with  arid,  sandy  wastes  on  every  side,  and  not  a  leaf 
that  is  not  shrivelled  by  the  fierce  rays.  I  find  the  old  post  much  as  I 
left  it ;  but  I  go  over  to  San  Carlos  in  a  day  or  two  on  court-martial 
duty,  and  so  am  writing  my  letters  to-night. 

"  In  the  first  place,  you  will  be  glad  to  know  that  the  gold  leaves 
are  in  sight.  If  all  goes  well,  I  shall  become  major  of  the  Seventh 
and  be  ordered  eastward  within  the  next  six  months.  Then  I  shall  fit 
out  my  quarters  in  cosey  style,  and  as  soon  as  Mamie  has  finished  her 
next  year  at  Madame's  she  shall  come  and  keep  house  for  me  and  turn 
the  heads  of  the  youngsters.  Yet  I  do  not  want  her  to  marry  in  the 
army,  any  more  than  I  want  you  to  enter  it.  Think  of  it,  Malcolm, 
for  twenty-five  years  now  have  I  followed  the  standard,  and  if  any- 
thing were  to  take  me  away  what  have  I  to  leave  you  and  May? 
Little  or  nothing.  Even  if  you  were  to  turn  over  your  modest  share 
to  her,  as  you  so  gayly  spoke  of  doing,  and  enlisting  in  hopes  of  winning 
a  commission,  she  would  not  have  more  than  enough  to  keep  her  from 
want ;  though  so  long  as  your  aunt  Eleanor  lives  she  will  never  be  in 


830  ^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

need  of  a  home.  Ah,  well,  God  spare  me  a  little  longer !  I  so  pray 
to  live  to  see  you  both  happily  settled  before  I  am  called  hence. 

"  After  our  talk  I  cannot  but  hope  that  you  will  see  how  little  there 
is  to  look  forward  to  in  the  career  of  a  soldier  in  our  service, — in  peace 
times,  of  course.  But  if  the  longing  prove  too  great  I  will  not  stand 
in  your  way.  The  life  has  its  attractions.  You  will  never  have 
stancher  or  truer  friends  than  those  who  wear  the  blue.  But  it  has  its 
trials  and  perils  outside  of  those  encountered  in  the  field.  I  told  you 
of  the  case  of  young  Mr.  Hearn,  as  fine  a  soldier  as  there  is  in  the 
regiment  to-day,  yet  he  was  well-nigh  ruined  through  having  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  the  Jews  when  young  and  inexperienced.  Wasn't  it 
luck  that  I  should  have  known  of  the  previous  rascality  of  that  clerk, 
and  so  was  able  to  make  him  come  to  terms?  Here  is  his  duplicate 
receipt  in  full,  filed  carefully  away  among  my  papers.  It  was  the 
means  of  saving  a  capital  officer,  too. 

"  Your  letters  bring  constant  joy  to  me,  my  son.  If  it  had  but 
pleased  God  to  spare  your  dear  mother,  I  know  well  how  proud  and 
happy  a  woman  she  would  have  been  in  her  great  boy  and  bonny 
daughter ;  but  His  will  be  done.  I  may  not  write  again  before  leaving 
for  San  Carlos,  but  my  blessing  goes  with  every  line  of  this.  There  is 
such  comfort  in  the  frankness  with  which  you  told  me  of  those  college 
debts.  Trust  me  fully ;  confide  in  me  in  any  trouble,  my  son  ;  no  man 
can  ever  be  more  devotedly  your  friend  than  I, — your  father.  The 
draft  I  sent  will  doubtless  have  removed  all  care  and  anxiety  and  left 
you  a  little  sum  to  the  fore.  Spend  it  as  you  please,  yet  Mo  not  dull 
thy  palm  with  entertainment  of  each  new-hatched,  unfledged  comrade.' 
What  words  of  wisdom  spoke  that  fond  old  fool !  but  he  loved  his  boy 
as  I  love  mine. 

"  Good-night,  my  lad. 

"  This  above  all,  to  thine  own  self  be  true ; 
And  it  must  follow,  as  the  night  the  day, 
Thou  canst  not  then  be  false  to  any  man. 

"Your  father, 

"  R.  F.  Rawlins." 

For  a  moment  after  Thorp's  deep  voice  had  ceased  its  task,  the 
silence  in  the  heated  room  was  broken  only  by  some  half-stifled  sigh. 
Corporal  Brent  had  covered  his  pale  face  with  his  hands.  Mrs.  Lane 
was  weeping  silently.  Hearn's  eyes,  swimming,  were  turned  towards 
Georgia  Marshall,  Avho  was  bending  over  her  friend,  quietly  fanning 
her.  The  effect  of  this  letter  was  not  unexpected  :  she  had  heard  every 
word  before. 

It  was  Grace  who  spoke  at  last,  after  no  little  preparatory  clearing 
of  his  throat : 

"And  have  you  other  letters  from  Captain  Rawlins?" 

"Many,  sir,  but  this  was  the  last,"  was  the  almost  tremulous 
answer :  "  he  was  killed  within  the  week  that  followed." 

"  And  you  are ?" 

"  Malcolm  Brent  Rawlins,  his  son." 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  %^\ 


XVII. 

The  court  had  finished  its  labors  and  gone.  The  correspondents 
had  gone,  but  presumably  only  to  renewed  labors.  The  various  journals 
throughout  the  Northwest  that  had  so  confidently  predicted  the  sum- 
mary dismissal  of  the  offending  lieutenant  were  now  in  a  somewhat 
difficult  position.  They  had  started  in  to  prove  the  officer  a  black- 
guard and  the  private  a  martyr ;  the  result  was  exactly  the  opposite, 
and  the  problem  was  now  how  to  get  out  of  the  pickle.  To  the  aver- 
age man,  soldier  or  civilian,  the  consciousness  of  having  publicly 
wronged  a  fellow-being  would  have  proved  a  source  of  distress  so  deep 
that  nothing  short  of  retraction  as  public  and  apology  as  far-reaching 
as  the  affront  would  satisfy  the  offender.  But,  in  its  Jove-like  attitude 
as  censor  of  the  morals  and  manners  of  the  people,  the  press  has  no 
such  qualms  of  conscience.  As  one  eminent  journalist  expressed  it, 
"  Of  course  we  are  sorry  we  were  misled,  somewhat,  but  we  can't  take 
back  what  has  been  said  :  that  injures  the  paper."  And  of  course  as 
between  injuring  the  paper  and  injuring  the  man  it  is  the  man  who 
must  suffer.  Another  gifted  editor,  in  whose  eyes  no  benefit  was  quite 
to  be  compared  with  free  advertising,  expressed  himself  as  considering 
that  "  That  young  fellow  really  ought  to  feel  very  mucli  obliged  to  us ; 
nine-tenths  of  the  people  might  never  have  heard  of  him  at  all  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  this."     And  he  spoke  in  all  seriousness. 

Of  course  the  correspondents  themselves  had  long  since  seen  the 
inevitable  results,  and  had  duly  prepared  their  respective  papers  for  the 
crash.  Some  of  these  journals  promptly  dropped  the  matter  at  once 
and  for  all,  as  no  longer  worthy  of  attention ;  others  transferred  their 
assaults  from  the  array  of  lieutenants  to  the  array  of  courts-martial. 
Others  still,  too  deeply  committed  to  extricate  themselves,  threw  open 
their  columns  to  any  damaging  story  affecting  the  army  which  their 
correspondents  could  fabricate ;  and  those  papers  which  made  any 
reference  to  the  facts  elicited  before  the  court  did  so  in  the  smallest 
type,  but  head-lined  the  item  in  sarcastic  or  explosive  big  capitals. 
The  Palladium,  or  rather  its  editorial  head,  when  explaining  matters 
to  a  knot  of  men  at  the  club,  quietly  justified  the  course  of  his  paper 
by  saying,  "  We  did  not  send  Mr.  Abrams  there  at  all ;  he  had  gone 
to  Central  City  on  some  personal  business  of  his  own,  to  look  into 
some  property,  and  while  there  this  Mr.  Schonberg,  a  wealthy,  promi- 
nent, and,  as  we  supposed,  reputable  business-man,  told  him  about  the 
offensive  manners  of  the  officers  to  the  people,  and  offered  to  prove 
that  they  would  be  insulted  and  ostracized  if  they  ventured  to  visit  the 
garrison ;  and  Abrams  got  warmed  up  and  telegraphed  to  the  man- 
aging editor  that  he  was  'on  to  a  good  thing,'  and  so  we  wired  him  to  go 
ahead."  But  a  junior  member  of  the  editorial  staff  frankly  admitted 
that  he,  in  common  with  other  journalists,  had  for  sixteen  years  been 
"  laying"  for  a  chance,  as  he  expressed  it,  to  get  in  a  good  whack  at  the 
young  West-Pointer,  and  here  they  thought  they  had  it. 

Meantime,  the  record  had  gone  to  department  head-quarters  for  the 
actio\i  of  the  general  commanding,  and  Lawler  went  with  it  to  fight 
the  case  to  the  last.     There  was  not  a  soul  at  Ryan  that  did  not  know 


832  ^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

that,  though  the  lips  of  the  court  were  sealed,  the  finding  had  been 
"  not  guilty"  on  every  possible  specification.  All  Lawler  could  hope 
to  do  now  was  to  persuade  the  general  to  pick  the  proceedings  to  pieces 
and  rasp  the  court  in  his  review  of  the  case;  but  even  this  proved 
futile.  The  general,  it  seemed,  would  do  nothing  of  the  kind ;  it  was 
even  hinted  that  he  rasped  Lawler  for  the  very  one-sided  investigation 
that  he  made  at  the  outset. 

For  two  days  following  the  adjournment  of  the  court  Fort  Ryan 
was  fairly  in  a  ferment.  Schouberg,  terrified  by  the  jeers  of  his  towns- 
people to  the  belief  that  he  was  to  be  prosecuted  for  perjury,  had  slid 
away  on  a  night  train, — "  gone  to  purchase  goods  in  St.  Louis,"  said 
his  unhappy  spouse.  Welsh,  the  martyr,  had  essayed  to  desert  the 
same  night,  and,  as  a  cat  plays  with  a  mouse,  old  Kenyon  had  let  him 
go  until  the  intent  was  made  plain  by  his  boarding  the  eastward-bound 
train  in  civilian  dress,  and  then  had  had  him  hauled  off  by  two  stalwart 
infantrymen  and,  incidentally,  by  the  nape  of  his  neck,  and  once  more 
Welsh  was  remanded  to  his  familiar  haunt, — the  guard-house  at  Ryan. 
This  time  a  still  more  serious  charge  was  hanging  over  his  head, — that 
of  assaulting  a  non-commissioned  officer  in  discharge  of  his  duty;  for 
Corporal  Brent  had  recognized  him  as  his  assailant  the  instant  he  heard 
his  voice.  So  had  another  witness.  It  was  Georgia  Marshall  who 
turned  to  Kenyon  the  moment  Welsh  had  finished  his  testimony,  and 
said,  "  I  have  heard  that  man  speak  before,"  and  who  unhesitatingly 
declared  after  Goss  appeared  that,  though  by  sight  she  could  identify 
neither  man,  by  voice  she  knew  that  the  one  who  had  assaulted  the 
corporal  of  the  guard  that  night  was  not  Goss,  but  Welsh.  Then 
Welsh  himself  broke  down.  Such  was  the  feeling  against  him  among 
the  men,  such  were  the  threats  which  he  could  not  but  hear  as  he  lay 
in  his  barred  cell,  that  he  begged  to  be  allowed  to  see  the  commanding 
officer.  He  was  in  fear  for  his  life, — poor  devil !  and  indeed  nothing 
but  the  discipline  so  derided  of  the  newspapers  saved  him  from  the 
tarring  and  feathering  and  riding  on  a  rail  that  the  soldiers  were  wild 
to  give  him.  In  piteous  accents  he  implored  Kenyon  to  have  him  sent 
away,  even  to  prison  at  Leavenworth.  He  would  plead  guilty  to  de- 
sertion, guilty  to  theft,  guilty  to  assault,  guilty  to  anything,  if  the  major 
would  only  get  him  away  from  the  terrible  scowls  and  curses  of  his  erst- 
while companions.  Only,  if  the  major  would  but  believe  him,  he  really 
had  never  struck  the  corporal  at  all;  he  had  hurled  the  pepper  in  his 
eyes  and  run.  Brent,  blinded  and  raging,  had  rushed  in  pursuit,  and 
had  struck  his  head  against  the  sharp  edge  of  the  brick  pillar  at  the 
south  end  of  the  troop-barracks.  Very  possibly  this  was  true ;  for  the 
gash  was  deep  and  jagged. 

And  Brent  was  convalescing  rapidly,  but,  between  the  ladies  of  the 
Lane,  Brodie,  Cross,  and  Graves  households,  stood  in  danger  of  being 
killed  with  kindness.  There  was  just  the  least  little  spark  of  jealousy 
among  the  women  of  the  infantry  because  it  was  to  a  comparative 
stranger  that  he  should  have  revealed  his  identity  and  by  her  be  brought 
to  the  front  at  so  supreme  a  moment.  But  it  was  Miss  Marshall  who 
had  been  greatly  interested  in  his  case  from  the  very  night  of  his  mis- 
hap, and  she  and  Mrs.  Lane  had  been  most  kind  and  assiduous  in  their 


AN  ARMT  PORTIA.  833 

attentions  to  him  during  his  days  of  suffering.  When  he  learned  of  the 
charges  against  Lieutenant  Hearn  and  of  the  outrageous  falsification 
of  the  Jew,  Schonberg,  his  determination  to  conceal  his  name  was  at 
last  overcome,  and  to  Miss  Marshall  and  to  Dr.  Ingersoll  he  told  his 
story.  His  father's  sudden  and  lamentable  death  at  the  hands  of  the 
Apaches  had  left  him  no  alternative  but  to  make  over  to  his  sister  every 
cent  that  had  been  hoarded  up  and  set  aside  for  his  education, — every 
cent  that  was  his  by  the  old  soldier's  will, — and  then,  leaving  with  her 
the  little  box  that  contained  the  captain's  papers  and  letters,  and  quit- 
ting college,  he  went  to  New  York  and  enlisted,  choosing  the  infantry 
service  rather  than  the  cavalry  because  his  father's  old  friends  and  asso- 
ciates were  mainly  in  the  latter,  and,  though  he  had  seen  none  of  them 
since  his  boyhood  days,  he  thought  recognition  not  impossible,  and  he 
determined  to  make  his  own  way  and  owe  nothing  to  any  man. 

"  I'm  glad  he  came  to  us,"  said  old  Kenyon.  "  I'd  do  pretty  much 
anything  to  see  him  in  any  other  profession ;  but,  as  he  is  bound  to  be 
a  soldier,  I'll  do  all  I  can  to  pkce  '  Candidate'  alongside  his  name  on 
our  muster-roll,  and  then  it  would  be  just  my  luck  to  find  him  com- 
missioned  in  the  cavalry." 

But  if  there  was  excitement  at  Ryan,  just  fancy  the  feelings  of  the 
officers  and  men  in  the  Eleventh,  now  two  hundred  miles  away  in  the 
Indian  Territory,  when  the  letters  came  detailing  the  events  of  the  last 
day  of  that  court-martial, — Schonberg's  exposure.  Brent's  unveiling, 
Welsh's  disgrace,  Hearn's  undoubted  acquittal,  Lawler  put  to  confusiou 
and  flight,  and  Georgia  Marshall  the  heroine  of  the  whole  thing ! 

"  A  Daniel  come  to  judgment,  ay,  a  Daniel,"  quoth  Martin,  as  Lane 
read  aloud  Mabel's  enthusiastic  description  of  what  she  termed  the 
"  trial  scene."  "  The  whole  regiment  sends  heart-felt  congratulations  to 
Hearn  and  love  to  Portia,"  was  the  telegram  that  came  flashing  back  to 
Mrs.  Lane.  Morris  lost  no  time  in  dictating  a  diplomatic  message  to  his 
absent  subaltern,  expressive  of  his  desire  to  welcome  him  back  to  duty 
after  so  complete  a  vindication.  Bat  Morris  felt  very  ill  at  ease,  and 
was  not  surprised  that  no  answer  was  vouchsafed.  He  retired  to  his 
tent,  and  was  not  seen  for  some  hours  after  learning  of  Brent's  identity. 

Meantime,  just  when  one  would  suppose  that  all  was  plain  sailing, 
balmy  breezes,  sun-kissed  wavelets,  etc.,  just  when  nothing  should  have 
stood  in  the  way  of  Mr.  Hearn's  rejoicing  with  all  his  heart,  and  just 
when  the  course  of  his  true  love  ought  to  have  been  smooth  and  sweet,  the 
very  imp  of  perversity  seemed  to  have  suddenly  developed  in  Georgia 
Marshall's  breast,  and  she  who  had  done  so  much  to  clear  his  name  of 
"the  clouds  that  lowered  o'er"  it,  and  had  for  two  weeks  been  the  young 
soldier's  most  valued  friend  and  ally,  now  most  unaccountably  held 
aloof  and  fairly  shunned  his  society.  She  met  him  only  in  a  crowd. 
She  simply  would  not  meet  him  alone.  On  one  pretext  or  another  she 
avoided  him,  and  poor  Hearn,  wounded,  utterly  unable  to  account  for 
this  sudden  change,  utterly  incapable  of  fathoming  a  woman's  whim, 
was  now  plunged  in  the  depths  of  a  distress  exceeding  that  from  which 
he  had  just  emerged.  She  had  rescued  him  from  the  toils  only  to  plunge 
him  into  worse  entanglement. 

It  was  the  fourth  day  after  the  adjournment  of  the  court  when  Major 

Vol.  XLVI.— 54 


334  ^-^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

Kenyon  came  to  Mr.  Hearn's  rooms  with  a  telegram  just  received  from 
division  head-quarters,  and  found  that  young  gentleman  dejectedly  read- 
ing a  long  letter  in  the  handwriting  of  Judge  Hearn,  his  father.  Ken- 
yon had  grown  to  know  it  well.  "  Released  from  arrest,  lad  !  That 
means  you  can  go  and  join  the  regiment  as  soon  as  you  like.  What 
does  the  judge  say  now?" 

"  Read  that  page,"  was  the  answer,  as  Hearn  placed  the  letter  in  the 
major's  hand.     And  with  knitted  brows  Kenyon  read  as  follows : 

"  And  now  again  I  urge  upon  you,  my  son,  the  step  I  so  earnestly 
counselled  in  my  last.  Major  Kenyon's  telegram  just  received  says  that 
your  acquittal  is  assured  and  that  your  vindication  is  triumphant.  This 
I  felt  would  be  the  case.  But  what  reparation  have  you  for  the  wrongs 
and  insults  heaped  upon  you  by  the  Northern  press?  What  proportion 
of  the  people  who  have  had  you  portrayed  to  them  as  a  low  bully,  a 
drunken  brute,  and  a  swindler  will  ever  know  the  contrary?  What 
paper  that  has  vilified  you  will  have  the  decency  or  the  courage,  now 
that  it  knows  the  truth,  to  make  the  faintest  amends?     Not  one. 

"  The  time  has  come  for  you  now  to  quit  at  once  and  for  all  a  pro- 
fession which  the  })eople  of  the  North  so  little  appreciate  and  so  per- 
sistently decry.  I  am  aging  fast,  and  shall  be  glad  to  have  your  strong 
arm  to  lean  upon.  A  year  or  two  in  my  office  will  fit  you  for  the  bar. 
Meantime,  you  can  have  nearly  double  the  income  that  the  government 
pays  you,  and  when  I  am  gone  all  I  have,  practically,  will  be  yours. 
Come  back  to  us,  my  boy ;  come  to  the  mother,  the  father,  and  the 
people  who  love  you ;  come  home  to  us  who  know  and  need  you  :  you 
are  not  wanted  where  you  are." 

For  some  time  Major  Kenyon  stood  in  silence.  At  last,  seeing 
that  he  was  expected  to  express  his  opinion,  he  slowly  spoke : 

"  I  feared  that  that  first  letter  would  come,  and  I  might  have  known 
that  this  would  follow.     When  will  you  answer?" 

"  Not  just  yet.  I  must  think  it  over.  Not — not  until  after  to- 
night, anyway." 

That  evening  Mrs.  Morris  insisted  upon  everybody's  coming  to  her 
house  "  to  celebrate."  The  news  that  Hearn  had  been  released  by 
telegraphic  orders  was  all  over  the  post  in  half  an  hour,  and  that  he 
would  start  to  rejoin  the  regiment  in  the  field  was  of  course  a  foregone 
conclusion.  Only,  said  that  all-important  personage  referred  to  gener- 
ally as  "  everybody," — only  he  will  probably  want  to  delay  a  little 
while  on  Miss  Marshall's  account,  for  if  they  are  not  already  engaged 
it  is  solely  her  fault ;  any  one  can  see  he  is  utterly  in  love  with  her. 

Once  in  a  while  "  everybody"  makes  a  mistake.  This  time  "  every- 
body" was  practically  right.  No  one  more  thoroughly  than  Hearn 
himself  knew  how  utterly  he  was  in  love  with  Georgia  Marshall,  and 
nobody  but  Kenyon  knew  that,  yielding  to  the  plea  in  his  father's 
letter,  Hearn  might  not  return  to  the  regiment  at  all. 

It  was  a  joyous  gathering  at  the  Morrises' ;  and  yet  there  had  been 
a  singular  conversation  at  the  Lanes'  before  Mabel  could  induce  her 
friend  to  go  at  all. 

"  Mr.  Hearn  will  certainly  come  and  ask  to  be  your  escort,"  said 
Mabel,  the  moment  Mrs.  Morris  was  gone.     "  How  can  you  say  no  ?" 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  835 

"  He  will  ask  you,  Mabel,  as  I  shall  not  be  visible,  and  you  must 
accept.  If  you  will  walk  over  there  and  back  with  Mr.  Hearn,  I  will 
go ;  otherwise  I  shall  have  a  splitting  headache  and  be  confined  to  my 
room." 

"  How  utterly  absurd,  Portia  !  Everybody  expects  him  to  escort 
you.  No  other  man  in  this  post  will  ask  you  so  long  as  he  is  here :  it 
is  a  foregone  conclusion  that  Mr.  Hearn  will." 

"  That  is  why  I  want  you  to  go  with  him.  If  I  go  it  will  be  with 
Major  Kenyon."  And  then  Miss  Marshall  took  the  flushed,  perplexed, 
but  lovely  face  of  her  hostess  between  her  slender  hands  and  kissed  it. 
"  Mabel,  I  must  not  go  with  Mr.  Hearn.  Some  day  I'll  tell  you  why." 
And  then  she  ran  to  her  room. 

"  Tell  me,  indeed  !  I  know  too  well,"  was  the  almost  tearful 
answer.     "  You  are  prouder,  far  prouder,  than  I  ever  was." 

And  so,  though  she  gained  her  point  for  the  time-being,  though 
Hearn  had  to  oifer  his  services  to  Mrs.  Lane  when  he  called  and  could 
not  see  Miss  Marshall,  though  Mabel  went  on  that  moody  young  gen- 
tleman's arm  and  Miss  Marshall  followed  with  her  stanch  friend  the 
major, — Hearn  raging  with  jealous  pain  the  while, — the  time  came 
when  she  found  her  precaution  all  of  no  avail.  Mr.  Hearn  was  too 
much  in  earnest,  too  deeply  in  love,  to  be  longer  held  at  bay. 

"Mrs.  Lane,"  he  stammered  at  last,  as  they  were  walking  home- 
ward late  at  night,  "  I  must  speak  to  Miss  Marshall.  Surely  you  know 
why.     Have  I  not  your  good  wishes?     Will  you  not  help  me?" 

How  could  Mabel  Lane  refuse  ?  Once  tlie  gate  was  reached  she 
bade  both  men  come  in,  though  Miss  Marshall  would  have  dismissed 
the  major ;  and  then,  slipping  from  the  parlor  along  the  hall-way  to 
the  dining-room,  she  left  Miss  Marshall  to  entertain  her  guests,  while 
with  nervous  hands  she  set  forth  wine,  and  then  presently  called 
Kenyon,  as  though  to  her  aid.  He  came  instantly,  and  Miss  Marshall 
would  have  followed.  But  Hearn  was  too  quick,  and  sprang  before  her 
to  the  door-way.  For  three — four  minutes,  nervously,  incoherently, 
Mrs.  Lane  strove  to  keep  up  a  laughing  chat  with  the  bulky  major; 
but  he,  too,  saw  the  ruse  as  he  sipped  his  wine,  and  neither  was  prac- 
tised in  the  art  of  dissembling.  Suddenly  Hearn's  footsteps,  quick 
and  firm,  were  heard  in  the  hall-way ;  the  front  door  closed  with 
sudden  bang,  and,  without  a  word  to  his  hostess,  he  was  gone.  Mrs. 
Lane's  heart  sank  within  her.  Conversation  was  at  an  end.  Kenyon 
stood  for  an  instant  in  awkward  silence.  Then  Miss  Marshall's  skirts 
were  heard  as  she  fairly  rushed  up  the  stairs,  and  the  major  took  him- 
self oif  as  quickly  as  a  clumsy  man  could  effect  an  escape.  An  instant 
after,  Mabel  Lane  stood  at  Georgia's  door.     It  was  closed. 

"  Portia,"  she  called,  in  low,  pleading  tones, — "  Portia,  mayn't  I 
come  in  ?" 

For  a  moment,  no  answer  at  all. 

"  Georgia,  dear,  do  speak  to  me." 

At  last  a  quick,  impetuous  step ;  the  door  was  thrown  open.  All 
was  darkness ;  but  as  Mrs.  Lane  entered  with  outstretched  arms,  there 
came  a  low,  almost  wailing  voice  from  the  bedside : 

"  Oh,  Mabel,  Mabel,  how  could  you  ?" 


836  ^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 


XVIII. 

When  it  was  generally  understood  around  Fort  Ryan  the  following 
afternoon  that  Mr.  Hearn  had  taken  the  first  train  and  gone  after  the 
regiment  early  that  morning,  people  were  somewhat  surprised.  Along 
toward  sunset  the  ladies  began  to  thiuk  it  time  somebody  went  to  call 
at  the  Lanes'  and  see  why  it  was  that  neither  Mrs.  Lane  nor  Miss 
Marshall  had  been  abroad  during  the  day.  Incidentally,  too,  it  might 
be  possible  to  find  out  whether  congratulations  were  in  order.  Nobody 
could  account  ft)r  the  sudden  departure  of  the  lieutenant.  Kenyon 
knew  of  it,  of  course,  but  to  all  questions  would  only  reply,  as  though 
in  surprise, — 

"  Go  ?  Why,  of  course  he  went !  What  else  would  you  expect 
of  a  man  like  Hearn  ?  He  was  all  ready  to  join  his  regiment :  why 
shouldn't  he  go  ?" 

Still,  as  Mr.  Hearn  had  not  said  a  word  about  going  even  when 
questioned  the  night  before,  every  woman  at  Ryan  felt  sure  there  was 
some  sudden  reason,  and  equally  sure  that  Miss  Marshall,  if  she  only 
would,  could  tell  it.  Very  probably  the  first  callers  fully  expected  to 
be  told  that  Miss  Marshall  was  not  well  and  begged  to  be  excused. 
That  would  have  settled  the  matter  to  their  entire  satisfaction.  But, 
on  the  contrary,  Miss  Marshall,  looking  every  bit  as  fresh  and  cool  and 
animated  as  ever,  came  tripping  lightly  down  the  stairs  the  moment 
they  were  announced.  She  perfectly  well  knew  that  they  would  be 
coming,  and  was  fully  prepared  to  meet  them.  She  had  heard,  too,  of 
Mr.  Hearn's  sudden  departure  :  a  brief  note  had  come  to  Mrs.  Lane 
early  in  the  morning,  over  which  that  bonny  matron  had  had  a  good 
cry.  The  visitors  only  succeeded  in  finding  Miss  Marshall  as  brilliant 
and  entertaining  as  ever,  but  more  provokingly  inscrutable.  It  was 
impossible  to  determine  from  her  manner  in  speaking  of  Mr.  Hearn 
and  his  departure  whether  there  was  an  engagement  or  not. 

Nor  was  any  one  a  whit  wiser  at  the  end  of  the  week.  "  If  she  is 
engaged  to  him,"  said  the  dames  and  damsels,  "  she  is  receiving  rather 
too  much  attention  from  the  major,  who  lets  no  day  go  by  without  its 
call,  and  the  calls  are  growing  longer." 

Mabel  Lane,  who  had  looked  pale  for  a  day  or  two,  was  blithe 
and  sunshiny  as  ever,  so  far  as  Ryan  society  could  judge ;  and  in  the 
absence  of  any  local  sensation  some  people  were  disposed  to  regard 
the  situation  as  decidedly  disheartening.  No  woman  rests  content  who 
suspects  an  engagement  and  cannot  prove  it. 

Letters  from  the  regiment  gave  no  clue.  Lane  wrote  to  Mabel 
every  day, — another  thing  that  made  him  culpable  in  the  eyes  of  lords 
less  uxorious, — and  she  was  besieged  by  the  other  wives  with  questions 
as  to  what  was  going  on  in  the  field.  But  what  he  wrote  her  of  Hearn 
she  would  tell  no  one,  not  even  Georgia, — who  never  asked. 

"  It  has  been  a  hard  ordeal  for  Hearn,  as  any  one  can  see,"  wrote 
the  captain.  "  He  has  aged  and  changed  greatly.  The  youngsters  had 
planned  a  sort  of  love-feast  for  him,  but  he  begged  them  that  nothing 
of  the  kind  be  held,  and  he  has  really  shunned  society  since  rejoining. 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  837 

He  claims  that  all  his  time  is  taken  up  with  his  troop,  and  of  course 
we  are  very  busy ;  but  there  is  something  behind  it,  and  I  think  you 
know." 

She  did  know,  and  yet  could  not  tell.  It  was  her  penance  for 
breaking  faith  with  Georgia.  The  latter  had  forbidden  that  she  should 
tell  to  any  one  the  fact  that  Mr.  Hearn  had  indeed  oifered  himself  and 
had  been  refused. 

But  Lane  learned  it  soon  enough.  From  the  moment  of  his  return 
to  the  regiment  the  young  soldier  spent  most  of  his  time,  when  off  duty, 
in  the  society  of  the  captain,  and  one  night  in  the  fulness  of  his  sorrow- 
ing heart  he  told  his  friend  of  the  bitter  disappointment  that  had  come 
to  him.  He  loved  her  deeply,  had  asked  her  to  be  his  wife,  and  she 
had  gently,  even  tearfully,  but  positively,  said  no,  it  simply  could  not 
be.  He  had  begged  her  to  give  her  reasons,  and  she  refused.  She 
assured  him  of  her  faith,  respect,  and  esteem,  but  pointed  out  to  him 
that  in  every  way  possible  since  the  trial  she  had  striven  to  avert  the 
declaration  which  she  frankly  confessed  she  could  not  but  foresee.  He 
was  forced  to  admit  this,  and  could  no  longer  press  her  for  reasons, 
since  she  had  plainly  discouraged  his  suit.  Yet  it  was  hard, — very 
hard. 

Lane  simply  could  not  understand.  "Is  there  any  one  else?"  he 
wrote  to  Mabel,  and  Mabel  said  she  was  sure  there  was  not ;  but  she 
was  equally  sure  Georgia  meant  no.  Mabel,  herself,  was  even  more 
perplexed  than  the  captain,  since  Georgia  had  gently  but  resolutely  for- 
bidden any  further  mention  of  the  subject  between  them.  And  now, 
with  the  utter  inconsistency  of  her  sex,  pretty  Mrs.  Lane  was  all  eager- 
ness to  discover  and  demolish  the  barrier  to  a  match  which  a  month  ago 
she  would  have  opposed  because  it  seemed  inevitable. 

Then  came  a  joy  in  which  Mrs.  Lane  for  the  time-being  forgot  her 
perplexities.  Captain  Fred  obtained  a  seven  days'  leave  from  the  regi- 
ment and  flew  as  straight  to  her  arms  as  a  circuitous  railroad-route  could 
carry  him.  He  greeted  Miss  Marshall  as  cordially  as  ever,  but  he  did 
not  call  her  Portia  as  he  had  intended,  because  Mabel  warned  him  in  a 
letter  that  it  served  to  revive  associations  which  were  not  all  joyous. 
"  I  called  her  Portia  long  before  she  met  Mr.  Hearn,"  was  Lane's  stout 
reply  ;  "  but  if  she  doesn't  like  it,  that's  enough."  Major  Kenyon  was 
bidden  to  dinner  the  evening  of  his  home-coming,  and  of  course  many 
of  the  garrison  people  ha})pened  in,  and  so  there  was  nothing  but  general 
chat.  But  two  evenings  later,  when  the  major  was  sitting  in  the  big 
arm-chair  and  discoursing  on  some  of  his  favorite  hobbies,  he  broached 
anew  the  matter  of  Judge  Hearn's  letter  urging  his  son  to  quit  the 
service. 

"  Have  you  never  heard  Hearn's  answer,  major  ?"  said  Lane.  "  He 
read  it  to  me  before  sending  it,  and  I  thought  it  so  good  that  I  kept  a 
copy.     Here  it  is." 

Miss  Marshall  was  sitting  at  the  table  under  the  bright  lamp  as 
Lane  began  to  read.  Mabel  noticed  that  she  leaned  forward,  shading 
her  eyes  with  her  hand. 

"  I  have  thought  it  all  over,  my  dear  father.  The  offer  you  make 
me  is  one  for  which  I  thank  you  with  all  my  heart.     Few  men  could 


838  ^^  ARMY  PORTIA. 

quit  the  service  under  better  auspices,  or  return  to  a  home  more  loved 
or  friends  more  loving;  and  yet — I  cannot.  Ten  years  of  my  life, 
perhaps  the  best  ten,  have  been  spent  in  a  profession  which  with  every 
year  presents  new  fields,  new  studies,  and  new  requirements.  I  have 
worked  honestly,  have  won  friends,  and,  in  all  modesty  may  say,  a 
good  name.  Admitting  all  you  write  of  this  recent  attempt  of  the 
papers  to  blacken  it,  my  friends  here  tell  me  that  it  but  proves  the 
strength  of  my  record  that  even  concerted  newspaper  assaults  could  not 
harm  me  in  the  eyes  of  right-thinking  people. 

"  I  love  the  duties.  I  am  deeply  attached  to  many  of  my  comrades. 
I  can  be  a  very  fair  soldier,  and  might  only  make  a  very  poor  lawyer. 
For  these  reasons  I  think  I  ought  to  stand  where  I  am.  But  there  is 
still  another  reason. 

"  Father,  when  I  bound  myself  to  the  United  States  as  a  cadet  I 
received  at  the  hands  of  the  nation  a  schooling  such  as  I  could  get  at 
no  other  institution  in  the  world,  and  was  moulded  by  the  nation  for 
its  service.  If  in  after-years  I  found  myself  better  fitted  to  serve  in 
some  other  way,  then  there  might  be  excuse  for  tendering  a  resignation. 
But  when  I  feel  and  know  that  I  am  far  more  soldier  than  I  can  ever 
be  anything  else,  it  all  the  more  convinces  me  that  my  efforts  belong 
now  and  for  a  lifetime  to  the  nation  that  trained  me  and  that  I  have 
sworn  to  serve. 

"  The  dear  ones  at  home  know  me  best,  it  is  true.  The  class  in 
whose  supposed  interests  I  have  been  so  unjustly  assailed,  it  is  also  true, 
is  very  different  from  that  in  which  we  move.  But,  in  the  broad  light 
of  a  soldier's  duty,  neither  the  love  of  the  one  nor  the  unreasoning 
hate  of  the  other  should  swerve  me.  The  hardest  knocks  a  soldier  has 
to  bear  come  sometimes  from  the  very'men  whom  he  ,is  sworn  to  defend. 
You  would  not  have  me  yield  because  of  a  stinging  wound  or  two,  nor 
would  I  be  worthy  of  your  name  if  I  faltered  now.  It  is  my  belief 
that,  despite  apparent  apathy,  there  is  still,  North  or  South,  a  place  in 
the  hearts  of  the  people  for  every  soldier  who  seeks  faithfully  to  serve 
them,  and  in  that  faith — God  helping  me — I  shall  folloio  the  old  jiag 
to  the  end." 

"  By  Jupiter !"  said  Kenyon,  as  he  sprang  to  his  feet  and  strode 
excitedly  up  and  down  the  room,  "  isn't  that  enough  to  make  one 
damn  the  liberty  of  the  press,  to  think  that  a  month  ago  it  was  holding 
up  that  fine  fellow  for  everything  that  was  low  and  contemptible ! — 
Miss  Marshall,  if  I  were Why,  she's  gone !" 

"Just  stepped  into  the  dining-room  a  moment,"  said  Mrs.  Lane, 
promptly,  though  her  eyes  were  brimming.  *'  Now,  isn't  that  Mr. 
Hearn  all  over !" 

But  Georgia  Marshall  had  not  gone  into  the  dining-room.  Mabel 
found  her  over  at  the  end  of  the  veranda,  gazing  at  the  distant  night- 
lights  across  the  dark  and  silent  valley. 

September  came,  and  the  Eleventh  would"  soon  be  on  its  home- 
ward march.  Letters  to  the  regiment  made  frequent  mention  of  old 
Kenyon's  devotion  to  Miss  Marshall,  and  even  Hearn  had  to  hear  occa- 
sional bits  of  conversation  that  told  him  that  in  quitting  Ryan  he  had 
abandoned  the  field  to  a  rival.     But  when  orders  reached  them  there 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  839 

was  other  news :  Miss  Marshall  was  to  return  to  the  East  at  once. 
"  Despite  every  plea,"  wrote  Mabel,  "  she  persists  in  it,  and  adamant 
is  no  more  yielding  than  is  her  determination.  I  am  utterly  heart- 
broken, but  cannot  prevent  it.  She  has  been  making  arrangements  for 
a  new  position  of  some  kind  for  the  last  six  weeks,  and  she  will  leave 
before  the  regiment  gets  back." 

And  when  the  Eleventh  came  marching  into  Ryan  late  in  the 
month,  and  a  host  of  tanned  and  bearded  troopers  rode  in  behind  the 
band  on  its  dancing  grays,  Georgia  Marshall  had  vanished  from  the 
scene. 

Presently  Kenyon  took  a  long  leave  and  disappeared.  "  Having  it 
out  with  his  newspaper  friends  in  Chicago,"  was  Martin's  suggestion. 
But  the  next  thing  heard  of  him  he  had  turned  up  in  Cincinnati,  and 
Mabel  knew  well  what  that  meant,  and  waited  with  bated  breath. 
For  a  month  there  came  no  further  news,  and  then  he  was  reported  at 
St.  Augustine,  more  crabbed  than  ever. 

"  Then  he,  too,  has  been  rejected,"  said  Mabel.  And  she  was  right. 
Kenyon  did  not  rejoin  until  long  after  the  Christmas  holidays. 

Old  Blauvelt,  by  this  time,  had  been  sent  before  a  retiring  board, 
which  recommended  him  for  permanent  shelving,  and  he  was  still  on 
leave  until  the  needed  vacancy  should  occur.  Hearn,  meantime, 
remained  in  command  of  his  troop,  no  longer  encumbered  by  the  pres- 
ence of  Trooper  Welsh,  who  had  been  formally  "  sent  to  Leavenworth." 
Corporal  Brent  had  won  his  sergeant's  chevrons,  and  was  looking  for- 
ward to  examination  for  promotion.  Everything  was  going  blithely 
at  the  post,  but  for  the  sadness  that  seemed  to  have  clouded  one  young 
soldier's  life,  and  for  the  anxious  look  on  Mabel  Lane's  face  when 
Portia  was  asked  for,  as  Portia  often  was.  "Teaching  children  all  the 
fall  and  winter  was  telling  on  her,"  wrote  an  old  school-friend.  And 
when  April  came  she  was  reported  ill,  though  her  own  letters  made  no 
mention  of  it.  The  family  would  move  to  their  country-seat  in  a 
week,  and  she  would  be  so  glad,  she  said,  to  see  the  trees  and  birds 
again. 


The  first  of  May  had  come.  The  lovely  suburbs  of  a  bustling 
city  were  shrouded  in  the  richest,  freshest  green.  The  sweet  breath  of 
the  early  summer,  laden  with  the  perfume  of  lilac  and  honeysuckle 
and  of  myriad  blossoms,  was  sighing  through  the  foliage  of  a  park  of 
grand  old  trees  and  rippling  the  surface  of  a  grassy  lawn.  Robin  and 
bluebird,  oriole  and  crested  woodpecker,  flashed  and  flitted  through  the 
sunshine,  now  splashing  in  the  basin  of  the  fountain,  now  chasing  each 
other  in  chattering  glee  through  the  slanting  light  and  shadow.  The 
drone  of  beetle  and  hum  of  dragon-fly  fell  soothingly  on  the  drowsy 
ear.  The  little  knot  of  Jerseys  browsing  in  the  paddock  down  the 
eastward  slope  huddled  together  sleepily  in  a  shaded  corner.  The 
tennis-court  was  deserted,  the  mallets  lay  sprawled  about  the  croquet- 
ground,  and  a  pair  of  Maltese  kittens  that  had  been  scampering  about, 
playing  hide-and-seek  among  the  currant-bushes,  seemed  at  last  over- 
come by  the  languorous  spell  in  which  all  nature  was  hushed,  and  with 


840  AN  ARMY  PORTIA. 

the  confidence  of  kittenhood  proceeded  to  clamber  into  the  slowly- 
swinging  hammock,  hung  well  back  in  the  shade,  wherein  was  reclining 
the  one  human  being  visible  in  the  entire  picture, — a  tall  girl  with 
big  dark  eyes  and  a  wealth  of  sombre  braids  of  hair, — a  girl  whose 
soft  cheeks  were  almost  as  thin  and  pale  as  the  slender  white  hands 
loosely  clasping  an  open  letter  that  lay  in  her  lap.  And  it  was  this 
that  the  foremost  pussy,  after  clambering  by  swift  springs  up  the  path- 
way afforded  by  the  trailing  white  skirts,  now  impatiently  pawed  to 
one  side  and  curled  herself  up  in  its  place ;  there  she  was  promptly 
joined  by  her  playmate.  Slowly  the  thin  white  hand  was  lifted  and 
gently  stroked  the  fur  of  the  pretty,  graceful  creature. 

"  It  is  a  holiday  for  us,  isn't  it.  Fluffy  kin  ?"  murmured  the  girl. 
"  The  children  and  doggy  both  gone,  and  it's  almost  time  for  us  to  be 
thinking  of  tea, — tea  all  alone.  There's  the  whistle  of  the  sunset 
train  now." 

For  a  moment  the  wooded  slopes  on  both  sides  of  the  valley  echoed 
to  the  rattle  of  the  incoming  cars,  the  sharp  hiss  of  steam,  the  distant 
sound  of  voices  at  the  little  station  down  the  winding  village  street, 
arched  over  with  rustling  foliage.  Then  the  clang  of  the  bell,  and  the 
hurrying  engine  again  pushed  northward,  impatient  of  delay.  A  few 
light  carriages  and  pony-phaetons  came  driving  swiftly  by ;  a  few  of 
the  occupants  waved  hand  or  handkerchief  to  the  reclining  figure  in 
the  hammock,  but  far  more  passed  by  on  the  other  side  without  a  sign 
or  token,  and  presently  silence  and  solitude  again  settled  down  upon 
the  shaded  lawn,  and  the  last  rays  of  the  westering  sun  kissed  the  tree- 
tops  good-night  and  slowly  died  away. 

"  Surely  there  should  be  another  letter  from  Mabel  to-night :  this 
one  is  a  week  old  now/'  said  Portia.  But,  old  as  it  was,  there  seemed 
one  page  which  deserved  re-reading,  and  the  white  hands  sought  and 
found  the  letter  and  lifted  it  before  her  eyes : 

"  Mr.  Hearn  has  been  gone  a  week  now,  and  we  miss  him  sadly. 
He  had  almost  made  his  home  here  with  us  during  the  winter,  and 
rarely  spent  an  evening  anywhere  else.  His  father's  death  seems  to 
have  been  very  sudden,  and  it  was  a  great  shock.  He  has  a  month's 
leave,  with  permission  to  apply  for  an  extension.  Georgia, — Portia, — 
I  could  say  so  much,  so  very  much,  if  you  would  only  listen.  If  you 
would  only  release  me  from  that  promise !  I  was  thinking  but  yester- 
day how  I  blessed  the  day  that  my  pride  broke  down  and  gave  me 
Fred  and  happiness.  Sometimes  I  cannot  but  think  that  only  pride — 
foolish,  unwarrantable  pride — stands  between  you  and  a  life  as  blessed 
as  my  own." 

Impatiently  the  letter  was  hurled  upon  the  grass,  and,  half  turning, 
Georgia  buried  her  wan  face  on  her  arm.  Of  what  was  she  thinking? 
Surely  those  were  hot  tears  trickling  through  the  long  white  fingers ; 
surely  there  was  little  evidence  of  stubborn  pride  in  the  abandonment 
of  that  silent,  lonely  sorrow.  All  day  she  had  been  at  leisure,  the 
family  and  children  away  in  town,  and,  though  neither  her  duties  had 
been  very  onerous  nor  the  trials  of  her  new  position  very  great,  she 
had  drooped  all  winter  long.  This  was  the  first  real  day  of  rest ;  yet, 
with  all  its  sweetness  and  sunshine,  had  it  not  been  full  of  tears? — full 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  841 

of  vague  unrest  and  longing?  and  now  even  the  sunshine  was  going, 
and  the  gloaming  was  slowly  settling  down  upon  the  valley.  Far  over 
the  eastern  heights  the  silvery  shield  of  the  soft  May  moon  was  peeping 
into  view ;  but  the  fairy  shafts  of  her  gentle  light  could  not  yet  pene- 
trate the  gathering  gloom  here  in  the  grove  where  swung  the  hammock. 
Still  the  hot  tears  came  trickling  between  the  white  fingers,  and,  yield- 
ing at  last  to  the  mournful  influence  of  the  dying  day,  Georgia  Mar- 
shall wept  unrestrainedly, — wept  while  great  sobs  shook  her  frame; 
and  while  one  fluffy  kitten,  disturbed  in  her  intended  nap,  stretched 
forth  a  furry  paw  and  lifted  up  a  querulous  note  of  remonstrance,  her 
companion,  suddenly  dislodged  from  her  cosey  nest  in  Georgia's  lap, 
clawed  vigorously  back  upon  the  heaving  folds  of  the  summer  fabric, 
glared  around  in  excited  search  for  the  possible  cause  of  such  seismatic 
disturbance,  and  instantly  set  back  a  pair  of  tiny  ears,  arched  a  furry 
back,  bristled  her  stiffening  tail,  and  gave  vent  to  spiteful  challenge  at 
the  fell  disturber  of  her  peace.     There  stood  a  man. 

A  tall  young  fellow,  erect  and  powerful  in  build,  clad  in  civilian 
garb,  but  striding  across  the  lawn  with  the  swing  of  a  trooper,  halted 
suddenly  not  ten  feet  away  and  lifted  from  his  shapely  head  a  hat 
banded  heavily  with  crape.  The  next  instant  he  had  hurled  this  aside, 
stepped  quickly  forward,  utterly  ignoring  pussy's  hostile  guise,  had 
thrown  himself  on  one  knee  beside  the  hammock,  and  the  drooping 
moustache  almost  swept  the  soft,  white  hands  as  he  impetuously  seized 
them. 

"  Georgia,"  he  whispered. 

Heavens !  what  a  start !  In  her  wild  consternation  she  recoiled  from 
his  touch,  striving  at  the  same  instant  to  sit  erect.  Hammocks  are  not 
made  for  combinations  so  eccentric.  The  next  instant  the  flimsy  thing 
had  slipped  from  under  her,  and  she  felt  herself  going.  Drowning 
men  catch  at  straws ;  drowning  women  seize  the  hand  they  would  have 
shunned.  But  for  his  sudden  spring,  but  for  prompt  clasping  arms, 
she  would  have  gone  headlong  to  the  ground  on  the  opposite  side.  For 
a  minute  she  was  held  in  close  embrace,  a  confused  mingling  of  dusky 
braids,  of  throbbing  femininity,  of  hotly-blushing,  tear-wet  face,  of 
cool  linen  lawn  and  clinging  hammock-netting.  Then  her  hands 
regained  their  cunning,  and  found  his  broad  shoulders,  and  she  pushed 
herself  free,  and  then  hysterical  laughter  came  to  her  aid,  and  the 
shaded  grove  rang  to  a  peal  that,  if  not  merry,  was  at  least  irresistible, 
and  at  last,  as  she  sat  there,  restored  to  equilibrium  and  striving  to 
regain  her  whirling  senses,  as  he  stood  patiently  bending  over  her,  half 
praying  that  the  inspired  hammock  might  yet  attempt  some  new  freak, 
she  glanced  up  at  him  through  smiles  and  tears  and  disordered  bangs, 
only  to  say, — 

"  How  utterly  absurd  !" 

To  which  philosophical  remark  he  vouchsafed  no  reply  whatever. 

It  is  a  full  minute  before  she  recovers,  even  partially,  either  breath 
or  self-possession.  Then  she  holds  forth  her  hand,  and  he  assists  her 
to  rise. 

"  This  is  not  the  welcome  I  should  give  you.  Shall  we  go  to  the 
house?" 


842  ^N  ARMY  PORTIA. 

But  even  as  she  asks  and  her  eyes  glance  nervously,  shyly,  up  into 
his  face,  she  knows  he  will  accept  no  invitation  that  will  peril  this  Ute- 
db-tMe.  She  sees  how  the  lines  have  deepened  in  his  frank,  soldierly 
face,  and  that  a  sadness  not  all  of  his  recent  bereavement  has  left  its 
traces  there.  She  would  lead  hira  from  the  shaded  grove  to  the  parlor, 
where  the  lamps  are  already  beginning  to  twinkle,  but  he  will  not  budge 
one  step.     He  stands  confronting  her. 

"  No !  I  have  come  solely  to  see  you.  Is  there  any  reason  why  we 
cannot  stay  here  a  moment?'^  And  she  can  think  of  none.  Oh, 
what  infamous  fate  that  he  should  have  found  her  weeping, — bathed  in 
tears ! 

"I  hardly  thought  to  see  you  at  all,  especially  after — the  great 
— sorrow  of  your  father's  death,"  she  falters,  her  heart  leaping  and 
bounding,  despite  her  effort  to  be  calm. 

"I  am  taking  mother  North,"  he  answers,  simply.  "It  was  a 
cruel  blow  to  her  and  a  hard  one  to  me.  It  was  all  over  before  I  could 
get  home.  Mother  will  spend  the  summer  with  her  sister  on  the  St. 
Lawrence,  but  she  has  to  rest  in  Cincinnati  until  to-morrow  night.  I 
left  her  with  old  friends  this  afternoon  and  came  out  here  to  find  you. 
I  must  go  back  this  evening.  And,  now,  have  you  no  word  of  wel- 
come for  me  ?  Did  you  not  know  that  I  would  come,  loving  you  as  I 
do?" 

What  answer  can  she  make?  Her  head  is  drooping  low;  her 
hands  are  clasped  together,  her  bosom  heaving,  her  breath  fluttering 
away ;  and  yet  how  wild  a  joy,  how  exquisite  a  hope,  is  throbbing  in 
her  heart  of  hearts  ! 

"  Georgia,"  he  speaks  impulsively,  his  deep  voice  trembling,  "  you 
made  me  accept  your  answer  then  and  bear  my  bitter  disappointment 
without  a  word  ;  but  I  have  borne  it  too  long  now.  Had  you  been  at 
the  other  end  of  the  world  I  must  have  followed  you,  for  the  longing 
to  see  your  dear  face,  to  hear  your  voice,  to  look  into  your  glorious 
eyes,  has  overmastered  me  time  and  again.  I  had  to  come,  and  now  I 
will  hear  what  it  is  that  stands  between  us.  God  knows  my  love  and 
honor  have  been  yours  a  long,  long  year.  God  knows  there  can  be  no 
content  or  joy  for  me  if  your  answer  be  final.  You  have  bound  my 
life  in  yours.  You  won  my  whole  heart,  my  deepest  gratitude.  No, 
you  cannot  check  me  by  impatient  gesture  now  :  you  must  hear.  You 
told  me  there  was  no  other  man.     Is  that  true  ?" 

"  Perfectly,"  she  answers,  proudly. 

"And  yet  you  would  not  listen  to  me.  You  would  not  be  ray 
wife." 

"  You  forget,  it  was  just  after  the  trial.  You  seemed  to  think  you 
owed  me  such  a  world  of  gratitude ;  and — do  not  men  sometimes  mis- 
take gratitude  for  love  ?" 

"  Oh,  heaven !"  he  interrupts  her  impetuously,  his  hands  out- 
stretched. "  You  do  not  mean  you  doubted  me,  Georgia  ?  If  that 
were  your  reason,  is  it  not  banished  now?  Look — look  up  into  my 
eyes,  my  darling,  and  tell  me,  if  you  dare,  that  it  is  gratitude,  not 
deep  and  fervent  love,  I  offer  you.  Nay,  you  shall  see."  And,  before 
she  can  retreat,  his  strong,  trembling  hands  have  seized  her  drooping 


AN  ARMY  PORTIA.  843 

head,  and  between  them  her  face,  with  its  dark,  kistrous,  swimming 
eyes,  with  cheeks  still  tear-wet,  yet  burning  with  blushes  chasing  each 
other  to  her  very  brows,  her  soft  red  lips  quivering  and  trembling  at 
the  dimpled  corners, — all — all  now  lifted  to  his  worshipping  gaze ;  and 
she  can  repel  no  longer.  One  swift  glance,  and,  if  ever  vestige  of 
doubt  remained,  it  vanished  then  and  there.  No  woman  on  earth  could 
have  looked  into  his  eyes  and  denied  the  love  that  burned  within  them, 
— all  her  own,  all  her  own. 

"  Speak  to  me,  Georgia.     Do  you  believe  me  now  ?" 

"  Yes,"  she  whispers,  and  her  face  would  have  hidden  itself  but  for 
those  strong  hands  again. 

"  And  you  have  no  love  to  give  in  return  ?" 

A  little  silvery  beam  is  peeping  through  the  foliage  now.  The 
kittens,  forgotten,  are  rolling  over  each  other  in  mad  frolic  at  their 
very  feet.  The  last  chirp  of  drowsing  bird  has  died  away.  The 
silence  of  the  sweet  summer  night  has  fallen  on  all  surrounding  nature, 
yet  he  can  hardly  hear  her  whisper, — 

"  You  never  asked  it — until  now." 

"  But  it  is  mine,  really  ?     Georgia,  tell  me,"  he  implores. 

"  It  has  been — all  yours  ever  since  the  night  I  heard  your  letter, — 
ever  since  you  wrote  that  you  would  follow  the  old  flag  to  the  end." 


THE   END. 


844  UNCROWNED. 


UNCROWNED. 

INSCRIBED   TO    THE    MEMORY    OF    FITZJAMES    O'BRIEN. 
January  23,  1887. 

[FitzJames  O'Brien  was  the  leader  of  the  Bohemian  circle  in  New  York  in  the  years  im- 
mediately preceding  the  war.  He  was  hurt  to  death  in  a  skirmish  fighting  for  his  adopted 
country.  In  his  volume  "The  Diamond  Lens  and  other  Tales"  (Harpers)  is  given  his  story 
of  "  The  Lost  Room."  In  that  story  O'Brien  claims  descent  from  a  chief  to  whom  St.  Kieran 
had  prophesied,  according  to  the  "  Annals  of  the  Four  Masters,"  that  he  and  his  descendants 
should  rule  over  the  Ithian  race  forever.] 

WHILE  the  round  sun  forgets  its  noonday  glare, 
And  following  after  clouds  the  evening  comes, 
And  sounds  of  city  feet  more  fleetly  fare 

To  some  kind  haven,  in  the  town  of  homes, 
I  stop  to  look  along  these  shabby  walls. 

And  almost  naked  floor,  I  claim  as  mine. 
No  priceless  hanging  to  the  wainscot  falls, 

No  marvels  painted  out  of  oil  divine 
Look  at  this  sad,  worn,  weary  face  with  love. 

Only  a  rug  or  twain  lies  here  or  there. 
And  from  its  case  peeps  out  a  boxing-glove. 

I  see  the  long  black  easel's  horns  still  wear 
My  colors, — black  and  gold.     Above  the  bed 

Dusk  Cleopatra  foils  the  folded  snake 
That  drives  across  her  golden  thigh  its  head. 

And  the  strange  love-dreams  in  her  eyes  awake ; 
And  on  the  other  wall  Lucretia,  slim, 

Beautiful,  bare  except  of  gauzy  veil, 
That  cannot  hide  the  shapely  breast  and  limb 

And  those  wild  eyes  that  time  should  not  assail. 

A  ruined  castle  by  an  Irish  sea. 

I  hear  sad  Cleena  *  calling  for  her  king : 
A  beggar  holds  a  pen  afar  from  thee ; 

Never  for  him  your  white-capped  waves  shall  sing. 
Under  the  pent  rock  Loki  turns  his  face. 

Avoiding  as  he  may  the  serpent's  slime; 
Naked  and  chained  upon  a  wave-washed  place. 

He  sufiers  doom  for  his  immortal  crime. 
The  serpent's  fangs  perpetual  venom  drop ; 

Cold  on  the  rugged  rock  he  clanks  his  chain. 
But  Sigyn  holds  before  his  face  the  cup. 

To  save  his  temples  from  the  dropping  pain. 
Forever  does  the  serpent's  venom  fail. 

And  ever  the  white  waves  sweep  over  them, 


*  The  south  Irish  coast. 


iddxiddd  dsidddxidsiii^^dsLiddlR  H.H  d  Hi^H  H.dji  i^.d  dxJjdZEEES-EBF 


BOO  KS 


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OPULAR 
MILITARY 
NOVELS 


BY  CAPTAIN 
CHARLES  KING,  U.S.A. 


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20 


A 


SOLDIER'S  Secret, 


A   STORY  OF 


THE  SIOUX  WAR  OF  1890. 


BY 


OAPT.  CHARLES  KING, 

U.  S.  AEMY, 

AUTHOR   OF    "THE    COLONEL'S    DAUGHTER,"    "THE   DESERTER,"    "  DUNRAVEN 

RANCH,"    ETC. 


PHILADELPHIA. 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  CX)MPANY. 


Copyright,  1892,  by  J.  B.  Lippincott  Company. 


Printed  by  J.  B.  Lippincott  Company,  Philadelphia,  U.S.A. 


LIPPINCOTT'S 

]y[ONTHLY  JyJAGAZINE. 


MARCH,    189  2. 


A.  SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 


WHEN  the  Indian  summer  haze  is  hovering  over  the  bluffs  along  the 
Pawnee  in  these  dreamy,  sunshiny  afternoons  of  late  November  there 
is  a  languorous  spell  even  in  soldier  life,  and  the  troopers  love  to  loll  about 
the  wide  porches  of  the  barracks  during  their  brief  leisure  moments,  or 
while  waiting  the  trumpet  call  for  stables.  There  is  scarcely  a  breath  of  air 
astir.  The  broad,  fertile  valley  under  the  bluffs,  forest-fringed  along  the 
stream,  gives  forth  a  faint,  pungent,  smoky  odor,  and  the  eye  wanders  across 
its  soft  undulations,  its  vistas  of  alternate  glade,  grove,  and  shadowy  pool, 
and  sees  it  all  as  through  some  filmy,  intangible  veil.  The  sharp  outlines 
so  characteristic  of  the  frontier  at  other  seasons,  giving  to  the  ridge  to  the 
northwest  that  razor-back  guise  that  inspired  the  original  explorers,  Ken- 
tuckians  and  Missourians,  to  refer  to  the  range  as  "  Hawg  Buttes,"  are  mel- 
lowed into  softer  curves.  There  is  an  echo  sprite  abroad  in  the  autumn 
skies,  for  the  distant  whistle  of  the  trains,  the  puff  and  pant  of  engines 
miles  away,  the  rumble  of  the  express  as  it  flies  across  the  wooden  truss  at 
Big  Bend  far  down  the  valley,  the  lowing  of  cattle  and  the  tinkle  of  their 
bells  at  the  farms  beyond  the  reservation  lines,  the  shout  and  laughter  of 
village  children  scouring  the  stream  banks  for  the  last  of  the  year's  crop  of 
beech-  or  butternut,  the  soft  laughter  of  the  ladies  gathered  in  the  veranda  of 
the  major's  quarters,  all  come  floating  through  the  pulseless  air  to  the  listen- 
ing ears  of  the  senti'y  dawdling  here  along  the  post  at  the  western  gate,  and 
distracting  his  attention  from  the  purely  military  functions  which  he  is 
called  upon  to  perform.  Over  at  the  guard-house  many  of  the  men  are 
drowsing  in  the  afternoon  sunshine.  Among  the  stables  the  horses  are 
standing  at  the  picket-line,  with  drooped  heads  and  lazily-swishing  tails. 
The  officer  of  the  guard,  knowing  the  colonel  to  be  away  on  a  late  shooting- 
excursion  and  the  major  held  at  home  by  the  demands  of  hospitality,  has 
dropped  into  a  doze  while  sitting  bolt  upright  at  his  wooden  desk.  Scores 
of  the  garrison  proper  seem  inclined  to  follow  his  example,  and  the  tall, 
dark-faced,  black-bearded  soldier — a  handsome  fellow — leaning  on  the  breast- 
high  wall  over  at  the  east  end  midway  between  the  hospital  at  the  edge  of 
the  bluff  and  the  junior  surgeon's  quarters,  his  chin  on  his  arms,  his  cap 
pulled  well  down  over  his  eyes,  seems  to  have  been  stricken  by  the  general 
somnolence.  It  is  only  the  ladies  who  are  wide  awake  and  alert,  for  this  is 
Nita  Guthrie's  last  appearance,  so  to  speak.  She  has  been  paying  a  brief 
visit  to  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Holden,  kinsfolk  of  hers,  but  is  to  take  the  East-bound 
train  this  very  night.  Mrs.  Holden  goes  too,  leaving  her  lord,  the  junior 
medical  officer  of  the  station,  to  the  mercy  of  the  other  women,  and  of  all 
the  families  of  some  thirty  married  officers  stationed  in  this  big  garrison  not 
one  is  unrepresented  at  Major  Berrien's  to-day,  for  Nita  Guthrie  has  won 

259 


260  ^    SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

all  hearts.  But  this,  say  those  who  have  known  her  long,  is  an  old,  old 
story  with  Nita  ;  she  has  been  doing  the  same  thing  for  j'ears. 

There  is  tang  of  suggestiveness  about  this  statement ;  moreover,  it  is 
true  :  Miss  Guthrie  is  not  in  the  first  bloom  of  youth.  "  Wliy,  she  must  be 
nearly  thirty,"  say  some  of  the  younger  girls  and  younger  matrons,  who 
envy  her  none  the  less  the  freshness,  the  grace,  the  winsomeness,  that  hover 
about  her  mobile  face  ;  but  those  who  are  in  position  to  know  and  have  no 
reason  to  feel  the  faintest  jealousy  assert  very  positively  that  Nita  is  not  more 
than  twenty-five. 

"  Well,  why  hasn't  she  married?"  is  the  instant  query  of  Mrs.  Vance, 
to  whose  benighted  mind  it  ever  appears  that  because  a  woman  hasn't  she 
cannot. 

"  Simply  because  the  right  man  is  yet  to  come,"  is  Mrs.  Harper's  equally 
prompt  reply.  "Nita  Guthrie  has  had  more  offers  in  six  years  than  any 
woman  I  ever  heard  of." 

"  Then  there  must  be  something  back  of  it  all,"  responds  Mrs.  Vance, 
whose  theories  are  not  to  be  lightly  shaken.     "Was  there  some  early  affair?" 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Vance,  I  have  no  doubt  I  could  tell  you  a  dozen  stories, 
all  plausible,  all  in  active  circulation  when  last  I  visited  St.  Louis  and  saw 
her  in  society  there,  and  all  as  near  the  truth,  probably,  as  any  we  could 
invent  here.     Nobody  knows  but  Nita,  and  she  won't  tell." 

Now  as  the  autumn  sun,  all  red  burnished  gold,  is  sinking  to  the  hori- 
zon on  this  final  day  of  a  charming  and  memorable  visit,  Nita  Guthrie  is 
bidding  adieu  with  laughing,  kindly  cordiality  to  the  little  coterie  gathered 
in  her  honor.  To  one  and  all  she  has  the  same  frank,  gracious  manner. 
Over  all  she  throws  the  same  odd  magnetic  spell,  seeming  to  impress  each 
and  every  one  in  turn  with  the  same  idea:  "Now,  you  are  just  the  most 
thoroughly  delightful  creature  I  have  ever  met,  and  I  cannot  bear  to  say 
good-by  to  you."  There  is  the  lingering  hand-clasp,  and  yet  not  the  faint- 
est sentimentality.  Nita's  blue  eyes — very  blue — gaze  straight  into  those 
of  her  friends.  She  seems  to  advance  a  step  or  two,  as  though  eager  to 
meet  and  take  by  the  hand  each  new-comer.  Even  the  elders  among  the 
women  find  it  hard  to  go ;  and  as  for  the  girls,  they  linger  spell-bound ; 
they  cluster  about  her,  watching  the  sunshine  in  her  face,  the  play  of  her 
features,  the  sparkle  of  her  eyes,  drinking  in  her  winsome  words,  her  rip- 
pling laughter. 

"  It's  just  the  only  chance  we've  had  to  ourselves.  Miss  Nita,"  protests 
Winifred  Berrien.  "  You've  been  surrounded  by  men  all  the  rest  of  the 
time,  and  we  couldn't  see  you  now  if  it  weren't  that  they  had  to  be  in 
stables.     Oh,  if  you  only  didn't  have  to  go  to-night !" 

"  Indeed,  Winnie,  t  don't  want  to  go.  It  seems  to  me  nothing  can  be 
more  delightful  than  life  in  an  army  post  like  this.  Certainly  no  girl  ever 
had  a  better  time  anywhere  than  you  have  given  me  here,  and  it  is  so  unlike 
what  I  fancied  it  might  be." 

"It  is  entirely  unlike  what  life  on  the  frontier  used  to  be.  Miss  Guthrie," 
answers  her  hostess,  the  major's  wife,  in  her  calm,  placid  way.  "  Any  one 
contrasting  our  beatitude  of  to-day  with  our  life  here,  there,  and  every- 
where over  the  West  during  the  Indian  campaigns  in  which  the  regiment 
was  incessantly  engaged,  can  only  wonder  how  we  found  it  possible  to  exist 
in  those  days.  Social  conditions  have  changed,  too,  and  in  the  gathering 
of  our  troops  in  larger  garrisons  a  great  many  of  the  unpleasant  features  of 
the  old  life  have  been  eliminated  entirely.  Indeed,  I  w^sh  you  might  stay 
and  see  more  of  us.     But  you  are  coming  again,  are  you  not?" 

"  If  wishing  will  bring  it  about,  I  shall  be  with  you  again  with  the 
coming  summer  or  early  in  the  spring.  I  have  promised  Mrs.  Holden 
that  I  will  return  to  her,  if  onl.y  for  a  fortnight." 

The  enthusiasm  excited  among  the  girls,  and  apparently  shared  by  all 
the  women  present,  when  this  announcement  is  made,  ought  certainly  to 
convince  Miss  Guthrie  that  they  most  reluctantly  part  with  her  now  and 
most  pleasantly  anticipate  her  future  coming.  The  clamor  of  voices  is  such 
that  for  a  time  no  one  is  conscious  of  the  fact  that  out  on  the  jiarade  the 
regimental  line  has  formed,  and  that  the  band  is  already  trooping  down  the 
front.  Berrien  had  taken  his  position  as  commanding  officer.  Several 
subalterns,  whose  heads  were  kept  rigidly  straight  to  the  front,  found 
their  eyes  wandering  furtively  over  towards  the  major's  quarters.  In 
couples  and  groups,  a  number  of  the  ladies  come  sauntering  forth,  gather- 


A  SOLDIER'S  SECRET.  261 

ing  opposite  the  centre  nearer  the  colonel's  house,  from  which  point  they 
generally  watched  the  closing  ceremony  of  the  day.  But,  still  oblivious  to 
any  music  but  that  of  her  voice,  a  dozen  of  their  number  hover  about  Miss 
Guthrie.  Even  gun-fire  fails  to  distract  their  attention.  It  is  not  until  the 
major  himself  returns,  tossing  off  his  helmet  and  tugging  at  his  waist-belt, 
that  they  realize  that  parade  is  over  and  dinner  waiting. 

"Now,  you  will  come  back  next  spring?" — "  You  wi^^  write  ?" — "You 
won't  forget  to  send  me  the  photograph, — mind,  cabinet  size, — Miss  Nita?" 
— "Indeed,  if  ever  I  get  anywhere  near  St.  Louis  you'll  be  the  first  soul  I 
shall  come  in  search  of." 

It  is  a  little  flock  of  enthusiastic  army  girls  surrounding  her,  maidens 
whose  early  lives  had  been  spent  wandering  from  river  to  mountain,  from 
the  Gulf  to  the  Columbia,  to  whom  city  life  was  almost  a  revelation,  and 
city  belles,  beings  from  another  world.  Winifred  Berrien  is  the  leader  of  the 
coterie,  a  girl  whose  eyes  are  as  dark  as  Nita's  are  blue,  and  they  are  ready 
to  brim  over  at  this  very  instant. 

"  Here  comes  Captain  Rolfe  for  you  now,  and  we've  got  to  let  you  go  ; 
but  we'll  all  be  down  to  see  you  off  at  train-time." 

The  man  who  enters  at  the  moment  and  stands  just  within  the  heavy 
Navajo  portifere,  smilingly  looking  upon  the  group  and  quite  unconscious 
of  the  almost  vengeful  glances  in  the  eyes  of  the  young  girls,  is  a  cavalry 
officer  about  thirty-five  years  of  age.  He  is  a  tall  fellow,  somewhat  heavily 
built,  yet  well  proportioned  and  athletic.  His  face  is  tanned  by  long  ex- 
posui'e  to  the  sun  and  wind  of  the  wide  frontier.  His  brown  hair,  close- 
cropped,  has  a  suspicion  of  gray  just  silvering  the  temples.  His  eyebrows 
are  thick  and  strongly  marked.  The  eyes  beneath  are  deep-set  and  fringed 
with  heavy  lashes.  The  moustache,  sweeping  from  his  upper  lip,  is  of  a 
lighter  brown  than  his  hair,  but  equally  thick,  heavy,  and  curling.  Other- 
wise his  face  is  smoothly  shaved,  and  is  one  which  impresses  those  who 
look  upon  it,  even  carelessly,  as  strong  and  resolute.  He  still  wears  the 
double-breasted  coat,  with  shoulder-knots  and  fourragdre,  ^uat  as  he  had 
come  off  parade,  though  he  has  exchanged  helmet  for  forage-cap,  which 
latter  head-gear  at  this  moment  is  being  dandled  in  one  hand,  while  the 
fingers  of  the  other  beat  rapid  tattoo  upon  the  visor.  Comrades  of  Rolfe 
would  tell  you  this  is  a  sign  that  he  is  nervous  ;  yet  to  look  at  him  there, 
smiling  upon  the  group,  quite  as  though  remarking  what  a  pretty  picture 
they  make,  no  one  else  would  be  apt  to  think  of  such  a  thing. 

"Ready  in  a  moment,  Rolfe,"  shouts  the  major  from  an  inner  room. 
"You  ready,  Berengaria?" 

"I  am  always  ready,  Richard,  as  you  well  know,"  is  Mrs.  Berrien's 
placid  response.    "  I  think  I  never  kept  you  waiting  so  much  as  a  monaent." 

"Promptest  woman  in  the  army  or  out  of  it,"  booms  the  major  from 
his  sanctum,  his  jovial  voice  resounding  through  the  rooms  of  the  bright 
garrison  home.  "Never  knew  anything  like  it,  Miss  Guthrie.  Why,  do 
you  know,  even  when  I  wasn't  half  proposing  she  never  let  me  finish  the 
sentence  !  'Twasn't  at  all  what  I  was  going  to  ask  her, — that  day,  at  least. 
Meant  to  eventually,  of  course,  if  I  ever  could  muster  up  courage,  but  this 
time  I  had  only  found  grit  enough  to  ask  for  her  picture,  and  I  was  en- 
gaged in  less  than  ten  seconds." 

Winnie  Berrien  rushes  from  the  parlor  into  the  paternal  den,  voluble 
with  protestation  against  such  scandalous  stories  at  mamma's  expense  ; 
but  Mrs.  Berrien,  slowly  fanning  herself,  remains  calmly  seated,  as  though 
impervious  to  these  damaging  shots,  at  which  everybody  else  is  laughing 
merrily. 

"Possibly  you  don't  believe  me,"  again  booms  the  major,  his  jolly  red 
face  aglow,  as  he  is  dragged  forth  from  the  den,  still  struggling  with  the 
sleeve-links  of  his  cuff".  "Winifred,  my  child,  unhand  me.  Foj^'ll  never 
bring  your  old  father's  gray  hairs  in  sorrow  to  the  grave  by  such  un- 
womanly precipitancy,  unless  it's  a  civilian  with  ten  thousand  a  year : 
will  you,  dearest  ? — Miss  Guthrie,  I  never  expect  to  be  a  rich  man.  I  hadn't 
as  many  dollars  when  I  fell  in  love  with  Miss  De  Lancy  as  I  had  buttons, 
and  we  only  wore  single-breasted  coats  in  those  days,  and  I  was  the  junior 
captain.  I  pledge  you  my  word  I  never  would  have  had  the  cheek  to  offer 
myself.  'Twas  the  woman  did  it.  I  was  going  away  for  a  week,  and  I  said, 
*  You  can  give  me  one  thing,  if  you  will.'  I  only  meant  to  beg  for  that  pic- 
ture, and,  ±>y  Jove  !  she  slipped"  her  hand  into  mine.    I  was  shaking  all 


262  ^  SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

over.     '  I — b-beg  pardon,'  I  stammered,  '  I  was  only  going  to — beg  for  your 

p-p-p '    *  My  promise?'  said  Berengaria,   sweetly,  looking  up  into  my 

eyes.  'You  have  it,  Richard.'  Prompt?  Why,  she  just  jumped  at  me. 
Splendid  arrangement,  though,  Miss  Guthrie,  ohe  furnished  the  quarters 
and  all  the  money,  and  I  the  vivacity  and  beauty  of  the  household,  until 
Winnie  came  :  she  contributes  a  little  towards  it  now.  But  we're  a  model 
couple,  aren't  we,  Berengaria?"  And  the  major  bends  with  playful  ten- 
derness, the  fun  spariiling  in  his  eyes  meanwhile,  and  liisses  his  handsome 
helpmeet's  rosy  cheek. 

"  We  have  few  crosses,  certainly,"  replies  Mrs.  Berrien,  whose  own 
name  is  anything  but  Berengaria,  that  being,  as  she  is  frequently _called 
upon  to  explain,  some  of  the  major's  historical  nonsense.  "  We  have  few 
crosses,  and  those,  of  course,  i"bear.  But  now,"  she  continues,  with  much 
decision  of  manner,  "if  you  are  partially  restored  to  sanity  we  will  go,  or 
keep  dinner  longer  waiting. — Miss  Guthrie,  do  they  allow  lunatics  at  large 
in  the  streets  of  St.  Louis?  Major  Berrien  spoke  of  getting  a  month's  leave 
this  winter  and  going  thither." 

"Oh,  send  him  by  all  means,  and  he  shall  be  treated  at  our  own  asylum. 
Father  would  rejoice  in  him, — as  I  do,  Mrs.  Berrien." 

"  And  shall  I  get  the  colonel  to  detail  Rolfe  here  to  conduct  me  thither 
and  turn  me  over  to  the  asylum  authorities?"  queries  the  major,  with  a 
knowing  cock  of  the  head.  "  Rolfe  hates  city  life  as  a  general  thing,  but  he 
would  accept  that  duty,  I  fancy." 

"  Captain  Rolfe  will  be  very  welcome.  Indeed,  I  only  wish  you  might 
bring  the  whole  regiment,  major.  Just  thinlc  what  a  good  time  the  girls 
could  have  tliis  winter  if  that  were  only  possible." 

"  Berengaria  says,"  bursts  in  the  major  again,  "  that  if  I  only  show  you 
proper  attention  on  this  visit  you'll  be  sure  to  send  us  invitations  to  bring 
the  whole  family  and  spend  six  weeks  at  least." 

"Father  !  you  outrageous  flbber  !"  gasps  Winifred,  rushing  at  him  and 
placing  one  slim  hand  upon  his  mouth,  while  twining  the  other,  with  its 
soft  white  arm,  about  his  neck. — "  Indeed,  Miss  Guthrie,  you  must  be  told 
that  father  is  perpetually  poking  fun  at  mother,  making  her  say  all  manner 
of  things  she  never  thought  of.  It  is  all  well  enough  in  the  regiment,  where 
people  understand  it  and  are  prepared  for  his  nonsense,  but  many  strangers 
are  completely  deceived  at  times,  and  mamma  never  so  much' as  remon- 
strates." 

Evidently  mamma  does  not  consider  it  worth  while. 

"  It  would  be  wasted  time,  Miss  Guthrie,  and  we  are  wasting  time  as  it 
is.— Captain  Hazlett  will  never  forgive  you,  Major  Berrien,  if  you  keep  din- 
ner waiting  another  minute. — Captain  Rolfe,  will  you  escort  Miss  Guthrie? 
— Come,  Richard,  march  !" 

"After  you,  Rolfe,"  says  the  major,  with  a  bow  of  extra  ceremony. 
"  After  you." 

"  Before  them,  if  you  please,  you  blind  goose  !"  whispers  his  better  half, 
"  Haven't  you  sense  enough  to  see  he  wants  to  speak  with  her  and  that  this 
may  be  the  only  opportunity  ?" 

"What!   Rolfe  wants  to   talk  with    her?    Why,   Miss  Guthrie,"   he 

booms  aloud,  "I  hadn't  the  faintest  idea "     But  here  the  wife  of  his 

bosom  lays  firm  hand  upon  his  sunburnt  ear  and  fairly  marches  him  forth 
upon  the  veranda.  Miss  Guthrie  would  indeed  have  been  glad  to  lead,  but 
Rolfe's  hand,  trembling  slightly,  as  she  cannot  but  note,  is  laid  upon  her 
wrist,  restraining  her. 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  you  wanted  to  talk  with  Rolfe,  Miss  Guthrie  ?" 
queries  the  major,  over  his  shoulder,  with  every  appearance  of  cencern. 
"  I  could  have  fixed  it  all  for  you." 

"Silence,  Dick  !"  sternly  murmurs  Mrs.  Berrien.  "  There  is  no  fun  in 
this  affair,  and  I  warn  you— not  another  word." 

Twilight  has  fallen  upon  the  garrison  as  they  stroll  across  the  parade. 
The  men  have  vanished  from  the  scene,  but  the  tinkle  of  guitar  and  banjo 
tells  where  they  have  gathered.  Most  of  the  officers  are  at  dinner.  One  or 
two  couples  are  just  entering  the  gateway  of  Hazlett's  quarters, — guests  in- 
vited to  meet  the  fair  visitor  on  this  the  last  evening  of  her  stay.  Dr.  and 
Mrs.  Holden  can  be  seen  among  them,  Mrs.  Holden  gazing  somewhat  anx- 
iously at  Nita  and  her  escort,  for  it  is  plain  that  Rolfe  seeks  to  detain  the 
woman  to  whom  he  has  paid  such  unusual  and  devoted  attention  ever 


A  SOLDIER'S  SECRET.  263 

since  the  hour  of  her  arrival.  Silence  and  peace  have  spread  their  wings 
abroad,  hovering  with  the  twilight  over  the  broad  reservation,  and  the  Ber- 
riens,  walking  rapidly  now  as  the  energetic  lady  can  lead  her  expostulating 
spouse,  come  suddenly  upon  the  sight  of  the  great  golden  moon  rising  above 
the  distant  bluffs  and  peering  in  upon  the  garrison  tiirough  the  wide  space 
that  interposes  between  the  surgeon's  quarters  and  the  barracks  at  the  east 
end. 

"  Now,  there  is  something  Miss  Guthrie  really  must  see  !"  says  Berrien, 
halting  short.  "As  one  of  her  admirers  and  entertainers,  I  feel  bound  to 
call  her  attention  to  it." 

"  Dick  ! — stupid  ! — move  on  at  once.  You  must  not  speak  to  her  now. 
Can't  you  see?" 

"See?  Of  course  I  see  ;  and  I  want  her  to  see  :  that's  why  I  stop." 
Again  half  teasingly  he  attempts  to  turn,  as  thougli  bent  on  looking  back. 
She  promptly  whirls  him  about  and  faces  him  in  the  proper  direction. 
"  Oh,"  lie  persists,  "  if  it  is  something  about  her  you  wanted  me  to  see,  can't 
you  understand  that  I  have  no  eyes  in  the  back  of  my  head,  and  that  there- 
fore I  should  be  allowed  to  look  about?" 

"  You  see,  sir,  and  understand  the  situation  perfectly  well  as  it  is.  You're 
simply  bent  on  mischief.  You  know  that  Rolfe  has  been  her  shadow  all 
day  long,  hanging  about  her  to  say  his  say.  He  knows  this  to  be  his  last 
chance.  Everybody  will  be  there  the  moment  dinner  is  over.  Everybody 
will  surround  her,  and  unless  he  speaks  now  he  must  let  her  go  without  a 
word." 

"  Berengaria,  you  amaze  me  !  Are  you  conniving  at  his  capture  ?  Didn't 
you  tell  me  you  knew  she  wouldn't  have  him?" 

"  I  did ;  I  know  it  now ;  but  he  is  a  man  who  wants  to  hear  his  fate 
from  her  own  lips  and  plead  his  cause,  too,  like  a  man,  unless  I  am  very 
much  mistaken  in  him.     No,  sir,  don't  you  dare  look  back." 

"  Poor  devil !  Why  couldn't  he  wait  till  after  dinner?  she  might  be  in 
softer  mood  then.  I  alwaj's  am.  That's  why  you  always  wait  till  after 
dinner,  I  presume,  when  you  have  anything  special  to  ask.  Now,  this  will 
take  his  appetite  away  entirely." 

"  As  if  he  had  any  in  the  first  place  !  Positively,  Richard,  you  have  no 
soul  above  a  dinner.  When  a  man  is  as  desperately  in  love  as  Rolfe,  do  you 
suppose  he  cares  much  what  he  eats?" 

"Well,  seems  to  nae  I  was  never  off  my  feed,"  is  Berrien's  reply,  with 

Ereternatural  gravity,  looking  straight  to  the  front  now  and  refusing  to  meet 
is  wife's  dark  eyes. 

"  You  !"  with  fine  scorn.  "  You  !  Why,  Richard  Berrien,  with  all  your 
amiable  qualities  of  heart  and  weaknesses  of  head,  no  one  on  earth  would 
ever  associate  you  and  sentiment  in  the  same  breath.  Of  course  you  and 
your  appetite  are  inseparable  ;  but  Rolfe  is  different :  he  is  a  lover." 

"Well,  what  am  I  ?" 

"  You  are  simply  a  goose  to-night.  Come,  don't  stop  at  the  gate  now  ; 
push  right  on  into  the  house  after  the  Holdens.  I'll  run  up  to  Mrs.  Hazlett's 
room  with  Nita." 

A  dozen  of  the  fort  people,  only,  have  been  bidden  to  dinner,  for  hardly 
a  dining-room  at  the  post  is  big  enough  for  more,  and  on  the  porch,  anx- 
iously awaiting  the  coming  of  his  guests,  is  Hazlett. 

"  Where  are  Rolfe  and  Miss  Guthrie  ?"  asks  he,  as  men  will  ask.  "  All 
here  now  but  them." 

"  Coming  at  once  ;  only  a  few  steps  behind  us,"  promptly  answers  Mrs. 
Berrien.  "  Run  in,  major  :  I'll  wait  for  Nita."  Berrien  looks  as  though  he 
meditated  a  mischievous  remark,  but  something  in  her  voice  and  manner 
tells  him  that  instant  obedience  is  expected.  He  gives  one  quick  glance  and 
steps  into  the  hall. 

Presently,  while  chatting  with  others  of  the  arriving  party,  he  is  con- 
scious of  the  swish  of  skirts  passing  up  the  stairway.  The  door  to  the 
veranda  is  still  open,  and,  glancing  out,  Berrien  can  see  Rolfe  alone,  leaning 
against  one  of  the  wooden  pillars,  his  head  drooping  as  though  plunged  in 
deep  thought. 

"  Poor  old  chap  !  he's  got  his  cong6  to-night,  and  that's  the  end  of  his 
two  years'  romance.    Odd  about  thatgirl.    She  fancies  nobody." 

Three  hours  later,  the  moon  being  well  up  in  the  heavens  now,  and  the 
whole  parade  shining  revealed  almost  as  bright  as  day,  both  the  verandas 


264  ^  SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

and  the  parlor  of  Hazlett's  cosey  home  are  thronged  with  officers  and  ladies, 
chatting  merrily  together.  The  lights  are  still  blazing  in  the  barracks. 
The  trumpeters  in  full  force  are  grouped  about  the  flag-staff,  sounding  tiie 
last  notes  of  tattoo.  The  Holdens  have  borne  Miss  Guthrie  away  with  them 
that  the  ladies  might  stow  their  evening  gowns  in  tlie  waiting  Saratogas 
and  then  don  their  travelling  garb  Avhile  the  quartermaster's  big  wagon 
trundles  the  luggage  down  to  the  railway-station.  Presently  this  lumber- 
ing vehicle  can  be  seen  slowly  rolling  away  from  the  Holdens'  gate,  and 
everybody  at  Hazlett's  waits  impatiently  for  the  return  of  the  party.  Mrs. 
Holden  is  deservedly  a  favorite  in  the  garrison,  and  Nita  Guthrie,  as  has 
been  said,  has  won  golden  opinions.  The  evening  air  is  growing  chill, 
however,  and  of  the  dozen  ladies  present  only  the  younger,  the  girls,  remain 
longer  upon  the  veranda.  About  this  pretty  group,  laughing  and  chatting, 
are  four  or  five  of  the  younger  officers,  Brewster,  "  tlie  swell  of  the  subs," 
keeping  close  to  Winifred  Berrien,  and  claiming  more  and  more  of  the 
glances  of  her  big  dark  eyes.  Down  at  the  gate,  the  moonlight  glinting  on 
his  poUshed  sabre,  the  officer  of  the  day  is  exchanging  a  few  low-toned 
words  with  Majdr  Berrien.  Rolfe,  who,  with  silent  and  dogged  resolution, 
had  taken  his  place  at  Miss  Gutlirie's  side  as  she  came  down  the  stairs  and 
escorted  her  to  the  doctor's,  has  turned  from  there  and  gone  slowly  across 
the  parade  to  his  own  quarters  on  the  other  side.  Everybody  seems  to 
see  and  know  what  has  happened,  and  many  half- whispered  comments  are 
being  made,  not  all  in  sympathy  with  the  willowed  lover.  Everybody  re- 
spects Rolfe,  yet  among  the  younger  officers  are  several  who  feel  no  warmth 
of  friendsliip  for  him,  and,  as  between  man  and  man,  garrison  girls  can 
only  side  with  the  youngsters.  Their  story  of  their  slight  differences  is 
sometimes  told  again  and  again  ;  the  elders'  seldom,  for  theirs  would  hardly 
be  beUeved. 

Little  by  little  the  chat  and  laughter  subside. 

''Oh,  why  doesn't  she  come  back?"  pouts  Miss  Berrien.  "The  ambu- 
lances will  be  here  in  less  than  half  an  hour,  and  we  won't  see  anything  of 
her."  A  chorus  of  girlish  voices  echoes  Winifred's  views.  Mrs.  Berrien 
and  Mrs.  Parker  at  this  moment  come  forth  from  the  house  and  look  ex- 
pectantly up  the  road. 

"How  long  they  are!"  says  Winnie  again.  "What  can  keep  them, 
mamma?" 

"  Packing,  I  doubt  not,  my  child." 

"  But  the  wagon's  gone,  trunks  and  all.     It  can't  be  that." 

"  Still,  I  would  not  fret  about  it,  Winnie.  Has  she  not  promised  to 
come  next  spring  and  pay  us  a  long  visit  ?" 

"Yes,  but  who  knows  where  we  may  all  be  next  spring,  or  what  may 
happen  meantime  ?  Every  paper  we  get  is  full  of  stories  of  the  ghost-dances 
among  the  Sioux  ;  and  if  there  should  be  another  Indian  war " 

"  Nonsense,*  Winifred  !  Don't  think  of  such  a  thing  !  After  all  this 
regiment  has  had  to  suffer  in  Indian  battle,  you  don't  suppose  we,  of  all 
others,  would  be  sent  from  here  to  a  winter  campaign  in  the  Northern  De- 
partment?   We've  seen  the  last  of  such  troubles,  God  be  thanked  !" 

Major  Berrien,  his  interview  with  the  officer  of  the  day  ended,  has  just 
started  to  rejoin  the  group  on  the  veranda,  when  he  hears  his  wife's  pious 
words.     He  whirls  around  sharply. 

"  Oh,  captain,  there's  one  thing  I  forgot  to  tell  you."  And  the  sabre 
of  the  officer  of  the  day  clanks  against  his  leg  as  Captain  Porter  faces  about. 
The  younger  officers  go  on  with  their  blithe  chat ;  but  Mrs.  Berrien  has 
known  her  lord  twenty  long  years,  and  no  sooner  has  the  officer  of  the  day 
departed  than  she  hastens  to  join  him. 

"  Dick,"  she  falters,  "surely  you  do  not  believe  that  there  is  any  chance 
of  the  Twelfth  going,  even  if  tliere  should  be  trouble?    Dick,  tell  me." 

"Berengaria,  beloved  inquisitor,"  he  begins,  "I  didn't  even  know  there 
was  a  row  anywhere." 

But  she  rebukes  him  by  a  single  glance. 

"Tell  me,  Dick,"  she  persists,  and  clings  to  his  arm.  "You  don't  think, 
after  all  we've  been  through,  that,  now  tliat  we  are  so  happily  settled  here, 
there  is  a  possibility  of  such  a  thing?  It  isn't  only  for  myself  now.  It's — 
it  would  mean  more  to  Winifred  than  either  of  us  dreams  of." 

He  looks  at  her  in  silence  and  amaze.  Then — then  comes  sudden  dis- 
traction.   On  the  stillness  of  the  night  there  rises  a  scream  of  terror, — a 


A   SOLDIER'S  SECRET.  265 

woman's  voice  uplifted  in  the  expi'ession  of  an  awful  shock  and  agony. 
Then  a  dash  towards  Holden's  quarters,  every  man  joining. 

"  My  God  !"  sliouts  Berrien,  "  it's  Nita  Guthrie." 

Following  the  rush  of  soldiers'  feet,  half  a  dozen  ladies,  too,  have  hast- 
ened, Winifred  Berrien  foremost  of  tlie  lot.  At  the  head  of  the  stairs  on 
the  landing  of  the  second  floor,  dressed  for  her  journey,  lies  the  fair  guest 
of  the  regiment,  a  senseless  heap,  with  the  blood  flowing  from  underneath 
her  pallid  face. 


II. 

Indian  summer  was  over  and  done  with.  The  soft  haze  had  gone.  For 
three  days  the  wind  had  been  blowing  hard  from  the  northwest,  and  the 
air  was  as  clear  as  an  Arizona  sky,  the  distant  outlines  sharp  as  tlie  tooth  of 
the  prairie  blast.  Colonel  Farquhar  had  suddenly  broken  off  his  sliooting- 
trip,  and,  without  saying  wliy,  returned  to  the  post.  Captain  Rolfe  had 
"cut"  the  club,  once  a  favorite  resort,  and  was  much  in  Dr.  Holden's  com- 
pany,— Holdeu,  who  was  lonely  enough,  now  that  his  wife  and  little  ones 
were  gone.  Throughout  the  garrison  there  was  one  leading  topic  for  con- 
versation and  conjecture, — Miss  Guthrie's  strange  adventure  the  night  of 
her  intended  departure,  and  her  equallj"^  strange  conduct  thereafter.  She 
had  remained  senseless  but  a  few  moments.  Gentle  hands  had  raised  and 
borne  her  to  the  bed  in  the  room  she  was  evidently  just  about  entering  when 
suddenly  halted  by  some  mysterious  cause.  Here,  when  restored  to  con- 
sciousness, an  almost  hysterical  attack  of  laughing  and  weeping  had  followed 
upon  her  prostration.  She  insisted  on  attempting  to  rise  and  go  to  the  train 
as  originally  planned,  but  this  Holden  positively  forbade.  He  had  succeeded 
in  stanching  tlie  flow  of  the  blood  from  a  jagged  cut  near  the  temple,  and 
could  suggest  ready  theory  as  to  the  cause  thereof, — in  falling  she  had  prob- 
ably struck  the  edge  of  the  little  wooden  post  at  the  top  of  the  balusters, — 
but  beyond  this  explanation  there  was  absolutely  nothing.  Nita  Guthrie 
would  only  account  for  her  sudden  terror  by  the  half-nervous,  half-laughing 
statement  that  she  thought  she  saw  a  ghost,  had  played  the  coward,  and 
turned  to  run. 

But  to  the  trained  physician  it  was  evident  she  had  received  a  severe 
shock.  Despite  her  pleadings.  Dr.  Holden  had  refused  to  allow  her  to  at- 
tempt the  journey  until  three  days  had  elapsed,  during  which  time,  though 
she  laughed  at  him  and  laughed  at  herself,  lier  condition  continued  so  ner- 
vous and  excitable  that  he  would  not  permit  visitors  to  see  her.  This  was 
pretty  hard  treatment,  thought  her  many  ladj^  friends  at  the  post,  but  he 
was  wise  and  they  could  only  obey.  When  the  evening  came  for  the  de- 
parture, a  large  contingent,  ladies  and  officers  both,  assembled  to  say  fare- 
well, and  Nita,  Mrs.  Holden,  each  of  the  children,  and  even  the  nurse, 
could  have  had  two  or  three  escorts  to  the  train.  But  no  one  had  opportu- 
nity to  say  mucli  to  the  central  figure  of  all  this  sympatlaetic  interest.  Only 
at  the  last  moment  did  she  appear,  and  was  ushered  almost  instantly  to  the 
waiting  carriage  by  Holden,  who  had  only  summoned  her  when  vigilant 
eyes  had  reported  the  head-light  of  the  express  visible  far  up  the  valley. 
But  then  down  at  the  dark  platform  of  the  station  faithful,  sad-faced  Rolfe 
was  waiting,  and  in  the  minute  or  two  that  intervened  before  the  huge  train 
came  glaring,  hissing,  and  thundering  alongside  he  managed  to  have  a 
word  or  two  with  her.  Mrs.  Vance,  had  she  been  present,  might  have 
vowed  that  Nita  shrank  and  clung  to  Holden's  arm,  but  others  who  were 
there  saw  her  extend  her  gloved  hand  cordially,  saw  that  Rolfe  clung  to  it 
an  instant, — charitable  others  who  could  only  wave  adieu,  for  the  party  was 
hurried  aboard,  and  away  went  the  express,  the  tail-lights  of  the  rear  sleeper 
disappearing  in  the  di'ipping  gloom  around  the  bend,  for,  as  though  in  sym- 
pathy with  the  mourning  of  the  post,  a  drizzling  rain  had  begun  to  fall  just 
after  retreat.  Rolfe,  gazing  after  them  to  the  last,  wore  that  look  seen  on 
the  face  of  many  another  man  many  another  time.  There  can  be  few  sensa- 
tions more  dismal  than  that  of  watching  the  disappearing  lights  of  the  train 
that  bears  away  one's  best  beloved,  especially  in  the  eyes  of  him  who  stands 
rejected. 

"Let  me  drive  you  home,  Rolfe,"  said  Holden,  kindly.     "Two  of  a 


266  ^   SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

kind,"  was  his  mental  addition.  And  Rolfe  turned  slowly  away,  neither 
man  saying  another  word  until  once  more  they  stood  at  the  gate  of  the  now 
deserted  home. 

"  Come  in  and  have  a  pipe." 

"Thanks,  not — now,  doctor."  A  long,  wistful  pause,  then — "Well, 
good-night." 

"Good-night,  old  man.  Come  when  you  will;  I'll  be  lonely  now." 
And  the  doctor  stood  and  gazed  after  him  long  and  earnestly  as  the  captain 
strode  into  the  darkness  out  over  the  parade. 

Within  the  days  that  followed,  when  he  had  leisure  to  think  it  all  over, 
Holden  felt  his  perplexities  increase.  Up  to  the  very  last  Nita  had  persisted 
in  her  statement  that  nothing  had  happened  to  warrant  the  absurd  exhibi- 
tion she  had  made  of  herself.  "I  was  overwrought,  nervous,  unstrung," 
she  said.  "  I  had  not  been  feeling  quite  well.  I  had  run  up  to  the  room  for 
my  gloves,  which  I  had  left  upon  the  table.  I  had  not  reached  the  door, 
and  it  was  just  the  waving  of  those  white  curtains  in  the  draught  from  the 
side  window.  I  must  have  thought  I  saw  a  ghost,  and,  like  a  fool,  I 
screamed  and  tripped,  and — voila  tout.^^ 

But  Holden  had  known  her  for  six  years,  and  felt  well  assured  she  was 
not  of  the  stuff  that  is  easily  stricken  with  terror.  With  every  confidence 
in  her  veracity  in  general,  he  did  not  in  the  least  believe  her  now.  The 
more  he  studied  tlie  matter  the  more  he  felt  that  she  was  hiding  some- 
thing from  them  one  and  all,  even  from  Jennie,  whom  she  dearly  loved 
and  whom  ordinarily  she  frankly  trusted.  It  was  evident  that  Jennie, 
too,  believed,  as  did  her  husband,  the  doctor,  that  there  was  something  be- 
hind it  all.  But  Jennie  was  gone,  and,  except  possibly  Rolfe,  there  was 
no  one  to  aid  him  in  his  search  after  the  truth.  Rolfe's  heart  was  now  so 
shrouded  in  its  own  gloom  that  any  phase  of  tragedy  seemed  credible. 
Rolfe  evidently  wanted  to  know  Holden's  suspicions  or  surmises,  and  again 
and  again  led  up  to  the  subject ;  but  of  all  men  in  the  garrison,  much  as  he 
esteemed  him,  Rolfe  seemed  hardly  the  man  to  make  a  confidant  of  now. 
Was  he  not  Nita's  avowed  though  rejected  lover? 

Of  course  no  time  had  been  lost  in  making  investigation  on  the  night 
of  the  occurrence.  Even  while  the  doctor  and  others  were  raising  the  un- 
conscious girl  from  the  floor,  half  a  dozen  officers  were  scouring  the  prem- 
ises for  signs  of  intruder,  and  had  found  absolutely  nothing.  The  room  oc- 
cupied bj^Miss  Guthrie  in  the  doctor's  house  was  immediately  to  the  left  at 
the  head'  of  the  stairs.  The  hall  was  broad,  tbe  landing  roomy.  It  was  one 
of  the  oldest  sets  of  quarters  at  the  post,  and  an  oddity  in  its  way.  Enter- 
ing the  door  of  the  rear  room  on  the  east,  three  windows  appeared,  two 
opening  at  the  back  and  one  at  the  side.  The  two  at  the  back  looked  out 
over  the  roof  of  the  rear  porch.  It  was  perfectly  practicable  for  any  one 
with  a  ladder  to  have  clambered  to  this  roof,  and,  had  the  blinds  been  open, 
peered  in  the  windows  at  the  occupant.  But  there  was  no  ladder.  What 
was  more,  the  blinds  were  tight  shut  and  bolted  on  the  inside.  The  shades 
within  were  drawn  down,  and  the  lace  curtains  looped  over  each.  Be- 
tween them  stood  a  long  old-fashioned  mirror  above  the  toilet-table,  draped 
with  lace  curtains  very  much  as  were  the  windows  themselves.  No  one  from 
without  could  have  been  visible  to  any  one  within.  No  one  within  could 
have  been  seen  by  any  one  without.  Moreover,  the  Holdens'  cook— an  in- 
domitable Irishwoman— was  on  the  back  porch  at  the  moment  of  Miss 
Guthrie's  fright,  saying  good-night  to  Corporal  Murphy,  who  had  long  been 
Kathleen's  devoted  admirer,  and  both  stood  ready  to  swear  that  nobody 
was  on  that  roof.  The  rear  windows  thus  disposed  of,  the  doctor  had 
turned  his  attention  to  the  window  at  the  side,  and  here  there  was  possi- 
bility of  explanation. 

As  has  been  said,  the  Holdens'  house  was  one  of  the  oldest  at  the  old 
frontier  fort,  but  so  solidly  and  substantially  had  it  been  built  that,  when 
others  were  condemned  and  ordered  replaced  along  the  row,  the  authorities 
had  decided  to  retain  "  Bayard  Hall."  It  was  originally  a  double  set,  with 
hall-way  in  common,  intended  for  the  use  of  four  bachelor  officers,  each  to 
have  his  two  rooms,  there  being  four  rooms  on  the  first  and  four  on  the  sec- 
ond floor,  while  the  kitchen  and  servants'  rooms  were  placed  in  a  wooden 
addition  at  the  rear.  The  ground  fell  away  rapidly  from  the  front  piazza,  so 
that  while  the  first-floor  front  was  but  a  few  steps  higher  than  the  walk, 
the  rear  porch  was  a  full  story  above  the  ground,  giving  abundant  space  for 


A   SOLDIER'S  SECRET.  267 

store-rooms,  etc.,  under  that  part  of  the  house,  and  necessitating  a  flight  of 
a  dozen  steps  to  reach  the  porch  or  the  kitchen  door-way.  Around  the  front 
and  sides  of  the  second  story  there  ran  originally  a  broad  gallery,  but  this 
was  before  the  days  of  the  war  of  the  rebellion,  during  which  the  post  was 
little  used,  and  when,  after  certain  repairs  and  alterations,  the  house  was 
declared  assignable  as  family  quarters,  the  old  wooden  gallery  had  been 
condemned  and  torn  down.  Nevertheless,  the  beams  which  were  its  sup- 
port on  the  east  were  found  solid  and  firm.  They  projected  through  the 
wall  of  rough-hewn  stone,  and  an  old-time  quartermaster,  selecting  the 
house  for  his  own  use,  had  thrown  a  light  gallery  out  upon  them.  It 
made  such  a  convenient  place  for  flower-pots,  shrubs,  bath-tubs,  and 
things  of  that  description,  said  he.  Furthermore,  it  was  a  place  where  he 
could  go  in  the  warm  evenings  and  smoke  and  sip  his  toddy  with  his  chosen 
associates,  and  not  have  every  garrison  gabbler  crowding  in  to  disturb  their 
chat  and  absorb  his  precious  Monongahela.  The  gallery  had  no  roof,  was  only 
five  feet  wide,  and  was  inaccessible  except  through  this  one  window,  which 
the  unsociable  major  had  had  cut  down  level  with  the  floor.  "  Robbers' 
Roost"  the  disdainful  subalterns  used  to  call  it  in  the  days  when  bluff  old 
Blitz  had  occupied  the  quarters  and  barred  out  all  but  his  chums,  and  by 
the  same  name  was  it  known  when  Holden  moved  in  with  his  wife  and 
olive-branches  and  took  up  his  abode  there  a  few  years  before  the  opening 
of  this  story.  When  the  Eleventh  marched  out  and  the  Twelfth  came  in, 
Colonel  Farquhar,  finding  the  doctor  in  possession,  decided  that  the 
Holdens  should  not  be  disturbed,— that  there  was  abundant  room  for  others 
in  the  new  quarters.  The  Holdens  entertained  a  great  deal.  Pleasant  peo- 
ple were  visiting  them  month  after  month,  and  everybody  in  the  Twelfth 
blessed  them  for  the  brightness  and  gayety  their  presence  lent  to  the  garri- 
son. A  sterling  fellow  was  Holden ,  one  of  the  best  men  in  one  of  the  very  best 
corps,  personally  and  professionally,  in  our  little  army  ;  and  as  for  his  wife, 
an  accomplished  society  woman,  a  St.  Louis  belle,  still  in  the  heyday  of 
youthful  womanhood,  everybody  in  the  garrison  delighted  in  her  friendship 
and  kindliness.  There  was  no  more  popular  parlor  than  Holdens',  and 
night  after  night  the  young  officers  gathered  there.  But  "  Robbers'  Roost" 
had  fallen  into  disuse.  The  glass  door  was  generally  shut,  and  the  Vene- 
tian blinds  with  which  old  Blitz  had  decorated  it  were  ordinarily  closed 
except  when  this,  one  of  their  two  guest-chambers,  was  occupied.  Shades 
and  lace  curtains  similar  to  those  at  the  rear  windows  draped  it  within,  so 
that  from  the  interior  this  side  door  presented  almost  the  same  appearance 
as  the  windows  themselves,  and  it  stood  directly  opposite  the  hall  door. 
But  Miss  Guthrie  had  become  enthusiastic  over  the  lovely  view  down  the 
Pawnee  Valley  from  that  side  gallery.  Sbe  was  frequently  to  be  seen  there. 
She  had  gone  out  for  one  fai-ewell  look  as  the  valley  lay  flooded  in  the  light 
of  the  full  moon,  and  this  was  immediately  after  changing  her  dress.  She 
was  exclaiming  over  its  beauty  as,  arrayed  for  her  journey,  she  came  dancing 
down  the  stairs  to  join  her  hostess  and  the  excited  children  in  the  parlor. 
She  suddenly  missed  her  gloves,  remembered  that  she  had  left  them  in 
her  room,  had  scurried  up  the  stairs,  had  reached  the  landing  at  the  top, 
but  never  entei'ed  her  room  at  all,  when  there  was  heard  that  awful  shriek 
of  terror  and  a  heavy  fall.  Holden  at  the  instant  was  in  his  own  room,  the 
rear  room  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  house,  and  was  changing  his  best  uni- 
form into  something  more  suitable  for  a  run  down  to  the  railway.  This 
had  delayed  him  a  second  or  two,  so  that  Brewster  and  Randolph,  two  of 
the  most  active  of  the  junior  officers,  were  foremost  at  his  heels  as  he  flew 
up  the  stairs.  His  first  care  was  for  Nita,  but  the  youngsters  had  bounded 
into  the  room  and  out  on  the  gallery,  as  though  expecting  to  overtake  some 
intruder  there.  The  side  door  was  wide  open,  the  shade  up,  the  lace  cur- 
tains drawn  apart.  If  any  one  had  been  in  the  room,  escape  to  the  gallery 
was  easy  enough,  but  from  there  there  was  practically  none  except  by  a 
leap  of  fifteen  or  twenty  feet  to  the  hard  ground  below.  No  one  had  run 
out,  either  front  or  back,  for  Murphy  and  the  Irish  cook  were  at  the  rear  on 
the  east  side,  the  rushing  swarm  of  officers  at  the  front.  If  any  one  had  hid- 
den there,  escape  unobserved  was  well-nigh  impossible.  No  one  was  found, 
— no  trace  of  any  one.  Indeed,  when  Nita  was  permitted  to  talk  she  vowed 
that  no  one  had  been  there.  She  herself  had  left  the  blinds,  door,  and  cur- 
tains open  as  she  came  in  from  the  moonlit  gallery,  had  turned  out  her 
lamp  and  descended  the  stairs.    The  gallery  door-way  could  not  be  seen 


268  ^   SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

from  where  she  fell,  and,  as  all  was  darkness  in  the  room  itself,  how  could 
she  have  seen  any  one  ? 

Out  on  the  gallery,  of  course,  any  one  would  have  been  revealed,  thanks 
to  the  brilliancy  of  the  full  moon,  almost  as  in  the  broad  glare  of  day  ;  but 
one  had  to  be  at  the  hall  door  or  in  the  square  room  itself  in  order  to  see  the 
gallery  at  all,  and  Nita  declared,  as  before,  that  she  had  not  reached  the 
door.  What  she  fancied  was  a  ghost,  bathed  in  a  pale,  cold  light,  was  prob- 
ably the  white  curtains  of  the  rear  windows.  But  the  light, — whence  came 
that? 

The  possibility  of  any  one  having  been  in  the  room  was  not  entertained. 
Prompt  and-thorough  search  had  been  made  in  every  nook  and  corner  of 
the  upper  story.  The  rooms  of  the  nurse  and  children  were  on  the  west- 
ward side  of  the  hall,  and  the  nurse  was  in  one  of  them,  putting  on  her 
hat,  at  the  very  moment.  The  front  room  on  the  east  was  unoccupied. 
Nita  had  chosen  the  other  because  of  that  gallery  and  its  lovely  view.  Then 
there  was  the  rear  slope  of  the  main  roof  above  the  gallery.  That,  thought 
Holden,  might  have  offered  a  way  of  escape,  because  it  was  out  of  sight  from 
the  parade.  But  Brewster  and  Randolph  had  both  essayed  to  reach  the 
eaves,  and,  even  when  standing  on  the  railing,  could  barely  touch  them 
with  the  tips  of  their  fingers.  Then,  again,  a  sentry  walked  along  the  edge 
of  the  slope  leading  to  the  river-bottom  south  of  the  long  row  of  officers' 
quarters  and  close  behind  the  rear  fence,  but  he  was  at  the  eventful  moment 
well  down  the  row  beyond  Hazlett's  house,  whereas  Dr.  Holden's  was  at  the 
eastern  end  of  the  line.  The  moon  shone  full  against  the  back  fence,  said 
the  sentry,  and  he  was  sure  he  would  have  seen  anybody  who  ran  out  of  the 
gate  of  the  doctor's  yard,  and  the  first  who  appeared  were  tlie  searching 
officers.  Corporal  Murphy  with  them.  Several  men  had  then  come  running 
from  the  direction  of  the  laundresses'  quarters  to  the  west,  and  after  them 
Sergeant  Ellis.  Indeed,  it  was  Ellis  who  first  suggested  a  search  of  the  roof 
by  means  of  a  ladder.  He  was  sergeant  in  charge  of  the  fire-apparatus  kept 
in  that  long,  low  building  at  the  east  end,  and  had  the  keys  of  the  door.  It 
was  by  his  aid  that  some  of  the  junior  officers  made  a  thorough  examination 
of  the  roof  and  the  front  porch.  No  more  signs  there  than  had  hitherto 
been  found.  No,  the  sentry  on  the  south  post  was  confident  that  no  man 
came  out  of  Holden's  yard  until  he  got  to  the  gate,  whither  he  had  run  the 
instant  he  heard  the  cry.  He  thought  it  might  be  a  lamp-explosion  or  a 
fire,  and  he  was  watching  with  eager  eyes.  He  had  been  on  post  nearly  two 
hours  when  the  alarm  came,  and,  except  Corporal  Murphy  and  the  quarter- 
master's men  who  took  the  trunks,  he  had  not  seen  or  heard  a  man  about 
the  premises.  Kathleen,  the  nurse-maid,  and  the  children  had  been  home 
all  the  evening,  and  they  had  neither  seen  nor  heard  anybody. 

Captain  Rolfe,  unable  to  sleep,  and  making  the  rounds  on  his  own 
account  about  one  o'clock,  found  the  sentry  of  the  third  relief  gazing  curi- 
ously in  at  the  open  back  gate,  and  questioned  him  as  to  what  excited  his 
attention. 

"Nothing,  sir,"  was  the  prompt  reply  of  the  trooper,  as  he  threw  his 
carbine  to  the  position  of  "  arms  port."  "  I  was  simply  wondering  how  any 
man  could  have  ventured  in  there  this  bright  night  and  expected  to  get  out 
unseen,  especially  early  in  the  evening,  when  men  are  passing  to  and  fro  all 
the  time." 

"What  made  you  think  any  one  had  been  there?"  asked  the  captain, 
quietly. 

"  Everybody  has  heard  by  this  time  that  there  was  a  search  made,  and 
that  the  young  lady  had  seen  something  to  frighten  her.  Besides,  Sergeant 
Ellis  spoke  of  it  to  me  an  hour  ago." 

"  What  was  the  sergeant  doing  on  your  post  at  midnight?" 

"  Why,  sir,  the  captain  remembers  Sergeant  Ellis  is  in  charge  of  the  fire- 
house  and  sleeps  there.  He  came  out  a  little  before  twelve  and  said  he'd 
lost  his  pet  pipe  while  he  was  hunting  around  with  Lieutenant  Brewster 
after  he  brought  the  ladder,  and  I  let  him  pass  in,  sir.  He  said  he'd  been 
working  there  long  after  taps,  and  it  would  be  all  right.  He  found  the  pipe, 
sir,  right  at  the  edge  of  the  wood-pile  yonder.  He  showed  it  to  me  as  he 
came  out." 

Captain  Rolfe  was  silent  a  moment.  Ordinarily  none  of  the  enlisted, 
men  had  any  right  to  be  away  from  quarters  after  the  "lights  out"  signal, 
but  this  case*  was  unusual.    Furthermore,  Ellis  was  a  man  superior  in  intelli- 


A  SOLDIER'S  SECRET.  269 

gence,  a  sergeant  of  more  than  a  year's  standing,  and  one  who  had  been 
selected  for  this  especial  duty  for  the  very  reason  that,  holding  himself  much 
aloof  from  the  average  run  of  the  rank  and  file,  he  would  be  apt  to  attend 
strictly  to  his  duties  as  custodian  of  the  fire-house,  and  no  one  had  ever 
heard  of  his  abusing  his  trust.  His  own  little  room  was  a  model  of  neatness 
when  the  commanding  officer  made  his  monthly  inspection  of  the  garrison, 
and  the  hose-carriage,  the  liook-and-ladder  truck,  the  fire-buckets,  and  other 
apparatus  were  always  in  perfect  order  and  readiness  for  service.  No  one 
ever  inspected  Ellis's  quarters  at  an.y  other  time.  The  guard  often  noticed 
his  light  after  midnight,  and  he  had  the  reputation  of  being  a  good  deal  of 
a  reader  and  student,  taking  books  from  the  post  library  very  often,  besides 
owning  quite  a  number  of  his  own.  Observant  officers  who  had  glanced 
about  when  making  the  inspection  with  Colonel  Farquhar  noted  that  many 
of  these  were  texts  on  mining,  mining  engineering,  mineralogy,  and  geology, 
and  some  had  gone  so  far  as  to  question  the  sergeant  as  to  whether  he  had 
ever  practically  essayed  mining.  With  perfectly  respectful  manner  Ellis 
replied  to  these  occasional  queries,  merely  saying,  "  Yes,  sir,  but  without 
success."  Asked  where  he  had  made  his  essay,  his  reply  was  rather  vague  : 
"In  several  Western  States  and  Territories,  sir, — mainly  Arizona  and  Colo- 
rado." Only  once  had  he  displayed  anything  like  annoyance  or  impatience 
under  such  Are.  He  had  served  his  three  years'  enlistment,  was  entitled  to 
his  discharge,  yet  quietly  notified  his  troop  commander  that  he  proposed  to 
re-enlist.     In  a  somewhat  sharp  manner  that  official  had  whirled  about. 

"Sergeant  Ellis,"  said  he,  "if  I  had  had  your  experience  in  miuing 
it  seems  to  me  I'd  find  something  different  from  staying  in  the  regular 
army." 

"Captain  Gorham,"  was  the  unexpected  reply,  "  if  you  had  had  anything 
like  my  experience  you  would  be  very  glad  of  a  berth  in  the  army  or  out 
of  it,— preferably  in." 

It  was  conceded  after  this  episode  that  Ellis  had  a  history  and  the  faculty 
of  keeping  it  to  himself.  The  colonel  was  glad  to  have  him  re-enlist,  even 
while  wondering  that  he  should  do  so.  Many  remembered  how  he  had  come 
to  them  haggard  and  travel-worn  three  years  before  and  offered  himself  as 
a  recruit.  This  was  far  out  in  the  mountains.  His  language  and  manners 
were  such  that  every  one  knew  it  to  be  a  case  of  a  man  whom  fortune  had 
betrayed,  and  who  "took  the  shilling,"  as  many  another  has  done,  some- 
what as  a  last  resort.  But  before  he  had  won  his  first  chevrons  the  men 
knew  well  that  from  some  source  or  other  Ellis  was  beginning  to  receive  a 
good  deal  of  money.  When  Sergeaht  Currie  was  killed  by  that  tough  in  the 
public  streets  of  Sheridan  City, — a  cold-blooded  and  unprovoked  murder, — 
and  Currie's  wife  and  children  had  not  where  to  lay  their  heads  now  that 
their  support  was  gone,  officers  and  men  "  chipped  in"  and  bought  them  a 
little  cottage  on  the  banks  of  Rapid  Run,  just  at  the  edge  of  town.  Ellis 
had  planked  down  a  five-dollar  bill  as  his  share  on  the  subscription-list,  but 
did  not  Kate  Currie,  the  eldest  child,  tell  how  he  had  come  all  by  himself 
afterwards  and  given  her  an  envelope  which  he  bade  her  hand  to  mother 
from  a  friend, — an  envelope  which  was  found  to  hold  a  fifty-dollar  Treasury 
note?  Sporting  characters  in  the  regiment  who  sought  to  borrow  from 
Ellis  met  with  cold,  even  curt,  refusal.  Neither  would  he  ever  gamble  or 
bet  with  them.  Neither  did  he  seem  to  care  to  go  to  town  at  all  when  first 
the  regiment  moved  into  this  its  most  delightful  station  after  years  of  ser- 
vice on  the  distant  frontier,— not  until  the  order  was  issued  permitting  meri- 
torious soldiers  to  wear  civilian  dress  when  on  pass.  Then  he  was  almost 
the  first  to  appear  on  tbe  streets  of  the  bustling  county  seat,  in  a  neat,  un- 
obtrusive, but  remarkably  well  cut  and  well  "fitting  suit,  and,  far  better 
dressed  than  most  of  the  townspeople,  Sergeant  Ellis  became  an  occasional 
visitor  ;  but  no  one  ever  heard  of  his  patronizing  any  other  establishments 
than  the  bank,  the  post-  and  express-offices,  and  the  book-stores.  Captain 
Hazlett,  calling  at  the  post-office  one  day,  was  surprised  to  find  Ellis  at  a 
lock-box,  the  key  of  which  he  calmly  placed  in  his  waistcoat-pocket  and 
then  as  calmly  raised  his  hat  in  salutation  to  his  superior  officer.  Both  were 
in  civilian  dress,  both  on  temporary  leave  of  a  few  hours  only,  both,  from 
the  point  of  view  of  the  correspondent  of  a  very  enterprising  paper,  occu- 
pied at  the  moment  the  same  social  plane,  andliis  allusions  to  "  the  slavish 
deference  demanded  by  the  aristocratic  commissioned  force  of  their  enlisted 
but  far  worthier  men"  grave  rise  to  some  discussion  at  the  fort.    One  or  two 


270  ^   SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

oflQcers  held  that  Ellis  should  have  given  the  military  salute  and  no  other, 
but  the  mass  of  opinion  was  in  favor  of  Ellis's  action  :  being  entirely  in 
civilian  dress  himself,  the  civilian  custom  should  prevail. 

"  Well,  damn  it,"  said  Mr.  Randolph,  "  that  consists  out  here  in  shoving 
one's  hands  deeper  into  pockets,  tilting  tbe  cigar  higher  in  the  mouth,  and 
giving  just  half  a  nod."  It  was  finally  conceded,  however,  that  in  courte- 
ously raising  his  hat  Sergeant  Ellis  had  done  about  the  right  thing,  and  tbat 
in  as  punctiliously  raising  his  own  in  recognition  the  captain  had  fittingly 
and  scrupulously  acknowledged  the  courtesy,  the  sneers  and  lashings  of 
The  Spasm  City  Chimes  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding. 

Still,  no  one  supposed  that  Ellis  was  going  to  re-enlist  when  his  time 
expired.  They  had  already  begun  casting  about  for  somebody  else  to  place 
in  charge  of  the  fire-house.  But  Ellis  signed  the  pai^ers  with  ready  hand, 
asked  for  and  got  a  month's  furlough  with  permission  to  leave  the  depart- 
ment, and  was  back  in  two  weeks  ready  to  resume  duty,  his  dark  face  a  trifle 
paler,  his  heavy  beard  becomingly  trimmed,  just  three  days  after  Nita 
Guthrie's  arrival,  just  three  days  before  she  was  to  have  gone  home. 

Rolfe  turned  from  the  sentry  and  gazed  away  eastward.  How  many  a 
long  mile  down  that  beautiful  valley  were  the  lights  of  the  rushing  train  by 
this  time,  and  what  meant  this  light  so  close  at  hand,  shining  faintly  but 
clearly  through  the  slowly-plashing  rain  ?  After  one,  and  the  sergeant  still 
up  and  reading?  No,  it  burned  too  dimly  for  a  student-lamp  ;  neither  was 
it  in  the  sergeant's  room.  Following  his  thoughts,  Rolfe,  wrapped  in  his 
mackintosh,  moved  slowly  out  to  the  eastern  edge  of  the  bold  bluff,  passing 
the  fire-house  on  his  way.  A  breast-high  wall  of  rough  stone  ran  diagonally 
over  towards  what  was  left  of  the  old  block-house,  once  perched  on  the  brow 
of  the  cliff,  and,  as  the  captain  reached  the  point  of  the  bluff,  he  became 
aware  of  a  dim  figure  standing  silent  and  motionless  between  him  and  the 
southern  face  of  the  antiquated  work.  Another  man  whose  thoughts  were 
following  the  eastward  windings  of  that  misty  valley,  was  it  not  ?  Another 
keeping  sleepless  vigil? 

"  Who's  that?"  in  low  tone,  he  suddenly  hailed.  A  start,  a  quick  turn, 
then  prompt  advance  and  answer  : 

"  Sergeant  Ellis,  sir." 

The  deep  collar  of  his  overcoat  was  turned  up  about  his  ears,  so  that  the 
face  was  well-nigh  hidden,  but  the  voice  was  calm  and  firm. 

"You  keep  late  hours,  sergeant." 

"  Not  without  warrant,  captain." 

"Your  warrant  might  suffer,  sir,  ifthe  colonel  knew  you  had  lights  at 
two  o'clock." 

"  It  is  by  his  authority,  sir,  that  one  lantern  burns  all  night ;  that  is  the 
one  the  captain  sees." 

Rolfe  paused,  baflled. 

"  Then  I  believe  I  will  light  a  cigar  at  your  lantern,"  he  finally  said, 
and,  turning,  he  moved  away  towards  the  low  wooden  building  behind  him. 
Ellis  promptly  followed,  then  sprang  ahead  and  opened  the  door  for  his 
superior's  entrance. 

"Let  me  offer  the  captain  a  match:  that  is  an  oil  lantern."  And, 
striking  a  lucifer  on  the  strip  of  sandpaper,  he  held  it  forth.  Rolfe  missed 
the  fiame  with  the  end  of  his  weed.  Light  came  to  him,  but  not  to  his 
cigar.  Muffled  though  his  face  remained  in  the  depths  of  that  cavalry 
collar.  Sergeant  Ellis's  lips  and  chin  were  visible  through  the  opening  in 
the  front  and  in  the  glare  of  the  little  match. 

"When  did  you  shave  off  your  beard,  sergeant  ?  I  should  hardly  have 
known  you." 

The  lips  trembled,  but  the  dark  eyes,  the  deep  voice,  were  steady  as 
ever: 

"Last  evening,  sir."  _ 


III. 

The  northwest  winds  that  had  finally  banked  up  the  southern  clouds  and 
squeezed  down  a  dismal  drizzle  the  night  of  Miss  Guthrie's  departure  now 
veered  and  whisked  away  the  rnolst  and  plashing  veil,  and  the  afternoon 
sunshine  of  the  day  that  followed  streamed  across  the  broad  meBa  in  a  flood 


A   SOLDIER'S  SECRET.  271 

of  grateful  warmth  and  radiance.  The  colonel  ordered  out  the  entire  com- 
mand, to  the  utter  consteruation  of  Miss  Winifred  Beri'ienand  the  supreme 
disgust  of  some  half  a  dozen  junior  olflcers,  who,  counting  on  the  weather 
indications  at  nine  a.m.,  had  eagerly  accepted  Mrs.  Berrien's  suggestion 
that  they  spend  their  rainy  afternoon  at  the  major's  hospitable  quarters,  by 
way  of  making  it  pleasant  for  two  young  damsels  from  town  and  three  or 
four  from  the  fort  itself,  all  of  whom  were  supposed  to  be  deeply  interested 
and  engaged  in  the  embroidery  of  certain  altar-cloths,  lecturn  and  pulpit 
adornments,  with  which  to  rejoice  the  eyes  of  their  amiable  chaplain  at 
Christmas-tide.  Here  it  was  well  along  in  November,  and,  beyond  a  vast 
amount  of  chatter  and  conjecture  over  the  prospective  pleasure  of  the  rev- 
erend dominie,  nothing  had  been  done. 

True,  the  colonel  had  astonished  everybody  by  ordering  out  the  entire 
regiment,  at  least  the  eight  companies  thereof  present  at  the  post,  to  parade 
for  inspection  and  review,  equipped  for  field-service,  at  nine-thirty  that 
morning,  and  only  reluctantly  recalled  the  order  when  the  persistent  plash- 
ing of  the  rain  warned  him  that  it  would  take  a  day  or  two  of  sunshine  to 
dry  out  the  clothing  and  equipments  subjected  to  such  a  downpour.  And 
then  if  anything  should  happen  and  they  should  be  suddenly  called  upon 

to  bundle  everything  right  into  the  waiting  train But,  pshaw  !  the 

thing  wasn't  possible :  the  idea  could  not  be  entertained.  Of  course  mat- 
ters were  looking  squally,  very  squall}',  up  there  in  the  Dakotas,  and  every- 
body from  the  Missouri  to  the  mountains  and  north  of  the  Platte  was  al- 
ready out  in  the  field,  and,  in  little  detachments  from  the  scattered  posts 
even  far  away  in  Montana,  even  far  in  southern  W^'oming,  the  soldiery 
were  converging  towards  those  swarming  agencies  where  thousands  of 
truculent  warriors  of  the  great  Dakota  nation  were  drawing  rations  for 
every  man,  woman,  child,  and  pappoose  they  possessed.  Be  it  known  to 
the  reader  that  paternalism  is  rampant  in  the  land, — that  while  peace  so- 
cieties and  Indian  rights  associations  and  prayerful  congregations  away  at 
the  Atlantic  seaboard  are  deluging  the  press  with  diatribes  upon  the  wrongs 
of  the  red  man  and  the  criminal  neglect  of  the  nation,  and  declaring  that 

Man's  inhumanity  to  Lo 
Malies  countless  Indians  mourn, 

in  this  last  **  century  of  dishonor"  Uncle  Sam  has  disbursed  millions  upon 
millions  in  the  desperately  hopeless  task  of  flfling  the  aboriginal  stomach, 
and  in  striving  by  means  of  honest  census  to  reduce  the  number  of  the 
"  countless"  so  pathetically  referred  to.  Indians  would  make  splendid  ward 
politicians,  and  how  it  is  that  the  sachems  of  Tammany  have  not  long 
since  possessed  themselves  of  so  available  a  means  of  swelling  their  ranks 
passeth  all  understanding.  After  the  Indian  had  had  himself,  several  wives, 
and  his  blooming  olive-branches,  "oksheelah,  wicincha,"  boys  and  girls, 
and  such  pappooses  as  his  better  halves  had  at  the  back  (either  of  home  pro- 
duction or  borrowed  for  the  moment  from  the  tepee  of  Two-Bricks-in-his- 
Hat),  duly  enumerated,  would  he  not  swell  the  census  of  his  tribe  by  judi- 
cious distribution  of  all  his  wives'  relations  among  those  tepees  not  already 
checked  off?  Oh,  if  the  truth  could  ever  reach  the  ears  of  the  general  pub- 
lic, what  tales  of  Indian  sagacity  might  not  yet  be  in  store  for  them  !  What 
annals  might  not  be  unfolded  !  Dealing  with  his  own,  his  white  children, 
who  are  non-voters,  Uncle  Sam  serves  out  one  ration  a  day  to  each  enlisted 
soldier.  The  wife,  and  the  lads  and  lasses  that  tumbled  about  the  married 
men's  quarters  in  the  queer  old  days,  were  all  to  be  fed  from  that  one  ration, 
unless,  perchance,  mamma  was  a  laundress.  But  when  dealing  with  the 
wronged  and  injured  red  man  he  could  not  be  too  magnanimous.  Every 
head  counted.  The  mumbling  old  beldam,  great-grandmother  of  "count- 
less thousands,"  braced  up  from  the  edge  of  the  grave  for  the  occasion. 
The  big-bellied  little  four-year-olds,  revelling  in  the  dirt  about  the  reek- 
ing shambles,  the  tiny,  hour-old  pappoose,  even  many  a  puppy,  blanket- 
swathed  and  slung  squaw-back,  passing  for  a  wee  baby,— anything  he  could 
show  as  possessing  a  spark  of  Indian  life  was  duly  credited  to  the  warrior 
lord  of  the  lodge  for  another  ration, — a  full  one.  Cattle  might  and  did 
shrink,  but  to  the  Indian  there  is  more  meat  in  a  lean  cow  than  in  the  stall- 
fed  ox  to  the  white,  for  the  reason  that  "everything  goes."  Horns  and 
hoofs  are  the  only  things  the  Indian  doesn't  eat.    Agents  might  and  did 


272  ^   SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

cheat  and  steal,  but  so  did  the  Indian,  and  many  a  rejoicing  old  sinner  has 
been  credited  with  a  family  of  twelve  when  his  sole  available  domestic  as- 
sets consisted  of  two  squaws  and  three  children,  the  pappooses  having  been 
borrowed,  or  personated  by  bundled-up  doggies,  the  grandmother  being  public 
property,  passed  around  for  the  occasion  ;  the  others,  pickaninnies  painted 
so  as  to  look  entirely  unlike  the  grinning  urchins  counted  in  the  flock  of 
brother  Stab-in-the-Dark  whose  people  had  just  been  enumerated.  There 
were  agents  who  lent  themselves  to  that  sort  of  thing  because  the  more  In- 
dians they  could  show  as  their  especial  wards,  the  more  barrels  and  boxes 
and  bales  were  invoiced  to  that  agenjjy  and  deftly  "raked  off"  en  route. 
There  was  a  time  when  the  man  who  wouldn't  make  hay  when  such  a  sun 
shone  was  looked  upon  as  an  unprofitable  servant  who  couldn't  contribute 
to  campaign  funds.  "What  the  devil  do  you  suppose  we  had  you  made 
agent  'way  up  at  Gallatin  for?"  asked  an  irate  political  "  boss"  of  a  deposed 
and  crestfallen  late-incumbent  who  came  home  superseded. 

"Why,  it  was  you  and  our  Congressman  who  exposed  the  stealings  of 
my  predecessor  and  had  him  tired.  I  supposed  you  wouldn't  stand  that  sort 
of  thing.    I  supposed  you  wanted  me  to  be  perfectly  honest." 

"Of  course  we  did;  but,  damn  it,  you  don't  seem  to  understand:  he 
was  paying  to  the  other  party." 

But  railways  and  telegraphs  have  brought  all  this,  or  much  of  it, 
within  range,  so  to  speak.  Things  are  changed,  except  perhaps  human 
nature,  white  or  Indian.  There  has  been  failure  to  provide  for  carrying  out 
the  earnest  recommendations  of  the  best  friend  the  Indian  has  known  for 
years, — the  man  whose  word  was  bis  bond,  whom  they  feared  in  war  and 
loved  and  trusted  in  peace.  There  has  been  shrinkage  both  in  the  cattle 
and  the  count.  No  matter  how  much  beef  might  shrivel  on  the  hoof  in 
the  old  days,  the  Sioux,  if  he  were  at  all  sharp,  got  more  tban  was  his 
share ;  and  most  of  the  Sioux  were  sharp  as  their  knives.  Other  tribes 
raight  have  starved  and  suffered,  but  not  they.  With  the  new  order  of 
things  came  full  stomachs  for  hosts  of  other  aborigines,  but  fault-finding 
for  these  Dakotas.  No  more  "tepee  counts;"  on  the  contrary,  heads  of 
families  paraded  their  entire  force,  and,  while  enumerators  with  book  and 
pencil  went  along  the  front  of  the  line,  Uncle  Sam's  blue-coats  on  the 
border  keenly  watched  the  rear,  and  put  sudden  stop  to  all  sham  or  swap- 
ping. Now  the  shrinkage  came  to  be  privation,  and,  turning  in  appeal  to 
tlie  general  who  headed  the  great  commission  and  won  their  faith,  appeal- 
ing to  Crook  for  the  remedies  Congress  had  utterly  failed  to  provide,  their 
hearts  were  bowed  with  the  tidings  that  the  Great  Spirit  had  summoned 
the  "  Gray  Fox"  to  happier  hunting-grounds. 

Then  was  there  no  other  appeal?  One, — one  which  had  never  failed  to 
wring  from  the  government  the  concession  desired.  Old  chiefs  might 
plead  in  vain,  but  the  blood  of  the  young  warriors  is  hot  and  strong,  the 
lust  for  reputation  as  vehement  as  of  yore.  Every  brave  stood  ripe  for 
action,  and  no  Indian  leader  ever  equalled  in  craft,  in  cunning,  in  adroit- 
ness, the  scowling  old  sinner  Sitting  Bull,  and  no  man  need  doubt  that  it 
was  he  who  gave  the  cue.  Every  medicine-man  in  the  Dakota  nation  began 
to  preach  the  coming  of  the  Messiah,  but  the  Messiah  craze  was  only  the 
means  to  an  end.  Un-koi-to,  the  Indian  Redeemer, — he  who  ordained  that 
his  children  should  prepare  themselves  by  the  savage  rites  of  the  ghost- 
dance  to  meet  him  and  all  their  dead  ancestry  and  with  them  wipe  the 
pale-face  fi'om  the  land, — Un-koi-to  was  a  fraud  of  the  first  water,  a  masque- 
rading scamp  of  a  white  man  at  odds  with  his  own  kind,  and  progressive 
Indians  knew  it.  But  even  to  such  a  saviour,  when  urged  by  the  charla- 
tans in  every  village,  the  superstitious  nature  of  the  red  man  turned  in 
eager  adulation,  and  the  ghastly,  maddening  dance  went  on.  Night  after 
night  all  over  the  broad  Northwest  the  skies  were  aglow  with  the  Indian 
fires.  The  vault  of  the  heavens  echoed  to  the  sound  of  frenzied  shriek  and 
yell  and  the  furious  beat  of  the  Indian  drum.  It  is  but  a  step  from  the 
ghost-dance  to  the  scalp-dance, — from  Indian  worship  to  Indian  war.  A 
year  ago,  in  every  valley  of  beautiful  South  Dakota  cattle  were  browsing 
on  the  bunch-grass,  settlers  ploughing  on  the  plains,  women  sewing  and 
singing  under  the  new-raised  roof-trees,  and  gleeful  children  playing  in 
the  golden  heaps  of  corn.  Now  the  plough  stands  idle  in  the  abandoned 
furrow  ;  the  cattle  have  gone,  to  make  up,  presumably,  for  the  reservation 
shrinkage;   women's   songs    have  changed   to  sobs,  cLlldreijofl  laughter 


A   SOLDIER'S  SECRET.  273 

hushed  to  terrified  silence,  as  the  settlers  seek  the  refuge  of  the  towns. 
New  red  glare  in  the  sky  at  night,  and  the  new  ranch-house  lights  the  way 
of  many  a  savage  warrior,  bound  with  arms  and  ponies  to  swell  the  hostile 
ranks  in  the  mazes  of  the  Bad  Lands. 

"God  only  knows  how  soon  it  may  come,"  read  Farquhar  but  a  week 
before,  "  but  I  think  you  would  better  be  with  your  command."  Farquhar 
relinquished  his  shooting-trip  and  at  once  got  him  home.  He  could  not 
bear  to  tell  his  people,  in  the  happiest  garrison  the  regiment  had  ever 
known,  that  perhaps  it  might  be  as  well  to  drop  the  plans  for  the  cavalry 
ball  and  the  Christmas  theatricals,  the  cherished  projects  for  the  coming 
holidays.  He  hated  to  have  any  one  ask  him  if  he  thought  there  were  not 
just  a  chance— just  a  chance— of  their  being  ordered  up  there.  But  even 
before  he  left  he  and  Berrien  had  been  talking  the  matter  over.  The  idea 
was  to  always  have  the  regiment  ready  for  anything,  and  it  did  seem  as  though 
with  all  the  summer  and  fall  marching  and  scouting  and  manoeuvring  in 
the  field  they  were,  as  the  Englishmen  would  say,  "pretty  tit."  Fit,  cer- 
tainly, for  any  amount  of  scouting  or  fighting  on  the  southern  plains,  and 
yet  utterly  unprepared  for  the  rigors  of  a  Dakota  winter.  Any  colonel  who, 
serving  in  Arizona  or  in  the  Indian  Territory,  were  to  apply  for  canvas 
overcoats,  blanket-lined,  for  fur  caps,  gloves,  boots,  leggings,  etc.,  intended 
only  for  service  in  the  high  latitudes,  would  have  been  laughed  at,  if  not 
snubbed.  Farquhar  decided  it  best  not  to  let  any  of  the  women  worry  over 
a  possibility.  No  use  borrowing  trouble,  he  said.  Long  years  had  the  regi- 
ment served  in  that  wintry  land.  Fierce  and  incessant  had  been  its  cam- 
paigns against  the  Indians.  Dire  had  been  its  sufferings  and  losses.  Only 
recently— only  within  the  year — had  they  reached  this  paradise,  with  its  hazy 
landscape,  its  lovely  peaceful  homes,  its  kindliness  and  greeting  yet  warm 
in  remembrance,  the  edge  of  its  cheer  still  new  and  unworn. 

And  then  Kenyon  came  back  from  leave,  a  burly  major  of  foot  who  had 
been  visiting  at  his  old  home  in  Chicago,  and  was  reported  to  be  wearing 
the  willow  for  a  girl  who  had  but  just  married  a  mere  junior  first  lieutenant 
in  the  Eleventh,  their  predecessors  along  this  line.  It  might  be  that  Ken- 
yon was  cross  and  craboed.  The  youngsters  called  him  "grumbly"  at  first 
acquaintance.  It  might  be  that  lie  was  so  hipped  and  unhappy  himself  he 
could  not  bear  to  see  the  bliss  and  content  on  every  face  about  him.  He 
and  Rolfe  were  congenial  spirits,  said  the  boys,  for  "  both  of  them  got  left." 
But  Kenyon,  close-mouthed  as  he  was  at  times,  had  watched  things  a  day 
or  two,  and  then  had  given  Farquhar  a  "pointer."  He  had  heard  some- 
thing, he  said,  at  division  head-quarters.  Hence  the  order  for  "  turn  out 
everybody,  field-kits  and  fifty  rounds." 

The  maddest  man  at  mess  at  one-thirty  was  Mr.  Carroll  Brewster, — 
"Curly  B"  his  comrades  called  him  in  the  years  gone  by,  when  he  had 
much  kink  to  the  blond  hair  of  his  handsome  head  and  not  a  vestige  thereof 
to  the  down  on  his  lip.  Now,  as  first  lieutenant  of  the  "  Black  Troop,"  with 
a  moustache  all  bristle  and  curl,  and  with  a  pate  whereon  the  curls  were 
cropped  to  regulation  lines,  he  was  a  very  different  sort  of  fellow.  All  the 
morning  long  he  had  sat  on  a  garrison  court,  where  as  "  swing  member"  he 
had  not  enough  to  do  to  keep  him  from  brooding  over  his  woes.  He  had 
counted  on  spending  the  hours  from  two  until  stables  basking  in  the  light 
of  those  wonderful,  deep,  dark  eyes  of  Miss  Winifred  Berrien.  Somewhat 
petted  and  spoiled  in  his  earlier  years  of  service,  Brewster  had  had  much  of 
the  nonsense  knocked  out  of  him  in  the  harsh  experiences  of  seven  years 
in  the  saddle  with  a  regiment  renowned  for  its  touch-and-go  sort  of  work. 
He  had  steadied  greatly  in  those  years,  part  of  the  process  being  due  to  his 
own  latent  good  sense,  and  not  a  little  thereof  to  incessant  striving  on  the 
range  to  win  high  honors  as  a  sharp-shooter,  and  to-day  there  was  not  a 
finer  looking  soldier  wearing  the  broad  yellow  stripes  in  the  Twelfth  than 
this  same  ex-dandy  "Curly  Brewster."  There  still  lingered  about  him  a 
certain  repute  for  self-consciousness,  if  not  for  actual  conceit,  but  he  had 
grown  to  be  thoroughly  respected  in  the  regiment,  and  was  vastly  popular 
with  the  men.  He  was  ever  ready  to  umpire  their  matches  at  base-ball, 
coach  their  shooting,  lend  his  own  fishing-tackle  or  shot-guns  to  longing 
sportsmen  in  the  ranks  who  had  none  of  their  own,  and  he  had  won  the 
lasting  gratitude  of  C  troop,  two  of  whose  men  were  being  mobbed  by  a 
gang  of  toughs  one  windy  night  in  Sheridan  City  just  as  Curly  came  trot- 
ting back  en  r  ute  to^the  post.  "  He  was  off"  his  horse  and  into  that  crowd 
Vol.  XLIX.— 18 


274r  ^   SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

quicker  than  winking,"  said  Murphy,  "  and  the  way  he  laid  over  that  gang 
with  them  white  lists  of  his  just  made  my  sides  crack  with  deliglit."  He 
had  more  sense  tlian  they  gave  liim  credit  for,  said  the  seniors  of  the  regi- 
ment, after  a  while,  and,  barring  an  early  experience,  a  cadet  love-affair 
that  he  was  long  ago  well  over,  had  never  let  himself  go  again, — never  until 
the  Twelfth  came  to  settle  in  this  happy  valley  and  Winifred  Berrien  re- 
turned from  her  Eastern  school.  Then  he  went  all  of  a  sudden.  Only  one 
man  did  not  see  it :  that  was  Berrien.  Only  one  woman  couldn't  forgive 
him  his  devotion  ;  and  she  had  no  business  interfering,  being  herself  other- 
wise disposed  of.  To  his  credit  be  it  said,  Brewster  and  the  lady's  husband 
were  about  the  only  men  who  appeared  unaware  of  this  autumnal  infatua- 
tion. Nevertheless,  in  those  numberless  ways  in  which  women  can  claim 
and  secure  the  appearance,  at  least,  of  attention  from  men,  the  dame  had 
managed  to  monopolize  considerable  of  his  spare  time  up  to  the  week  ofj 
Miss  Berrien's  coming,  after  which  it  was  not  he  who  rode  to  town,  but  she 
who  drove  out  to  the  post  and  sent  for  him  to  come  and  talk  to  her  as  she 
leaned  back  in  her  stylish  victoria  and  looked  up  at  him  from  under  her 
tinted  lashes.  She  could  have  found  it  in  her  heart  to  strangle  the  lovely 
girl  so  darkly,  richly  beautiful,  but  her  call  upon  "  the  ladies"  had  been  re- 
turned when  she  was  conspicuously  absent  from  home,  and  opportunities 
for  meeting  were  not  afforded  by  the  damsel's  parents.  There  were  girls  at 
the  post  who  were  quick  to  see  how  "Antinoiis"  had  lost  his  heart;  but 
these,  those  at  least  who  were  near  enough  to  Winifred  to  dare  allude 
to  the  matter  at  all,  were  content  to  archly  quote  the  warning, — 

Change  the  name  and  not  the  letter, 
Marry  for  worse  and  not  for  better. 

There  was  one  man  with  whom  Brewster  was  at  odds,  a  sentiment  due  to  an 
old  difference  when  both  were  younger,  and  that  was  Rolfe.  There  was  one 
man  the  gallant  major  especially  liked  and  swore  by,  and  that  was  Rolfe. 
These  facts,  added  to  the  coincidence  that  the  captain  had  never  forgotten 
the  hot  words  used  by  his  second  lieutenant  long  years  before,  made  a  com- 
bination most  unfortunate  for  a  fellow  so  much  in  love  as  was  Carroll 
Brewster. 

On  this  particular  morning  he  had  striven  to  hurry  matters  through  on 
the  court, — to  try  three  or  four  cases  where  the  accused  were  only  too  ready 
to  plead  guilty  and  "throw  themselves  on  the  mercy,"  etc.,  and  then  ad- 
journ on  the  specious  plea  of  giving  the  judge-advocate  time  to  write  up 
the  proceedings.  But  the  president  of  the  tribunal  had  other  views,  and 
held  him.  Brewster  knew  that  Randolph  and  Hunt  and  Ridgeway,  perhaps 
others,  had  taken  advantage  of  the  weather  and  no  drill  to  slip  over  to 
Berrien's  for  a  blithe  morning  hour  with  the  girls.  He  could  imagine  that 
pretty  parlor,  with  its  pictures  and  piano,  its  attractive  curtains  and  por- 
tieres, the  group  of  bright,  sweet  faces,  the  animated  chat,  Winifred  herself, 
in  her  dark,  rich  beauty,  seated  at  the  piano,  with  Ridgewaj^  hanging  over 
her,  eager  to  turn  the  leaves,  eager  to  do  anything  tliat  might  keep  him  at 
her  side.  Confound  the  fellow  !  he  had  money  and  a  handsome  old  family 
homestead.  What  business  had  he  roughing  it  in  the  cavalrj',  with  no  end 
of  chances  of  getting  his  head  knocked  off,  when  his  doting  mother  was  so 
eager  to  have  him  come  home,  marry,  settle  down,  and  take  up  the  man- 
agement of  the  property  his  father  had  left  him  two  years  before?  Poor 
"  Curly"  !  he  could  only  gaze  wistfully  out  across  the  dripping  parade  from 
his  seat  in  the  dark  court-room  and  watch  the  glinting  of  the  firelight  on 
the  Berriens'  parlor  window.  The  maior  loved  a  broad  fireplace  and  a 
hickory  blaze,  and  here  he  had  them  to  his  heart's  content  for  the  first  time 
in  full"  twenty  years  of  army  wanderings.  How  must  that  firelight  en- 
hance the  cosiness  and  comfort  of  the  scene  within  !  How  must  it  be 
flickering  about  the  dark  masses  of  her  lustrous  hair  at  this  very  moment ! 
How 

"  How  do  you  vote,  Brewster?    Are  your  wits  wool-gathering?" 

He  pulled'  himself  together  as  best  he  could  ;  but  that  was  a  morning 
of  torment. 

And  now  to  think  that,  after  all,  he  could  have  no  moment  at  her  side 
this  day  !  To  think  that  Farquhar  should  have  ordered  them  out  for  hours 
of  pottering  around  at  saddle-bags,  nose-bags,  side-lines,  lariats,  picket- 


A   SOLDIER'S  SECRET.  275 

pins,  and  all  that  sort  of  truck  !  It  was  simply  barbarous.  He  curbed  his 
tongue  as  well  as  he  knew  how,  for  plainly  he  saw  that  his  chums  were 
mischievously  exulting  over  him,  but  any  one  who  knew  Brewster  could 
see  his  wrath  and  discomfiture.  The  announcement  was  made  just  before 
luncheon  was  over.  The  adjutant  came  bolting  in  with  the  order,  and 
shutting  his  ears  to  the  chorus  of  expletives. 

"  What  time  did  you  say  boots  and  saddles  would  sound  ?"  fiercely  de- 
manded Randolph. 

"  In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  :  so  you've  no  time  to  lose  saying  swear- words 
or  asking  damfool  questions. — And  as  for  you,  Curly,  you're  for  guard  to- 
morrow." 

Brewster  finished  his  cup  of  tea  in  an  undignified  gulp,  quitting  the 
table  and  the  room  in  three  strides.  There  was  just  time  to  scurry  over  to 
Berrien's  and  see  her  for  five  minutes  before  he  had  to  jump  back  to  his 
quarters  and  into  riding-boots,  etc.  Any  pretext  would  answer, — the  dance 
to-night,  for  instance. 

"Get  my  field-rig  ready  at  once,  and  bring  my  horse  up  here  in  ten 
minutes,"  he  called  to  his  servant,  slashed  at  his  natty  uniform  with  a 
whisk  broom,  and  bounded  out  of  the  door,  only  to  encounter  the  man  of 
all  others  he  least  cared  to  see  coming  in. 

"  Were  you  just  going,  Brewster  ?  There  is  a  matter  I  want  very  much 
to  ask  you  about,  and  I  thought  this  the  time  to  catch  you  without  fail." 
The  voice  was  that  of  Captain  Rolfe. 

"  I  a??z  just  going  out,  captain,  and  I'm  hurried  ;  but  If  you  will  step  in 
I'll  be  back  in  ten  minutes." 

"  Well-1,  ordinarily  I  would  not  detain  you,  and-d,  pardon  me,  if  you 
were  going  to  Major  Berrien's  they  are  all  at  luncheon.  I  have  just  left 
there." 

Brewster  flushed  in  spite  of  his  effort  at  control.  His  first  impulse  was 
to  say  he  was  going  over  anyhow,  if  only  to  leave  word,  but,  since  he  could 
not  hope  to  see  her,  what  was  the  use  ?  It  chafed  him,  however,  to  note 
that  Rolfe,  in  that  calmly  superior  way  of  his,  was  pressing  on  into  the  hall, 
as  much  as  to  say,  "  It  is  my  will  that  you  give  up  what  you  have  in  view 
and  attend  at  once  to  my  behest,"  just  as  though  Brewster  were  still  his 
second  lieutenant,  instead  of  First  Lieutenant  Brewster  commanding  the 
"  Black  Horse"  troop.  It  must  be  confessed  that  there  was  about  Rolfe  an 
intangible  something  that  ever  seemed  to  give  that  impression  to  the  juniors. 
It  was  one  of  the  things  that  set  their  teeth  on  edge,  as  they  expressed  it, 
and  set  them  against  him.  Feeling  as  he  did  towards  the  captain,  and 
exasperated  at  the  way  in  which  events  seemed  conspiring  against  him, 
Brewster  threw  open  his  door. 

"Walk  in,  as  I  said,  captain.  Make  yourself  at  home.  I  wish  to  go 
into  Haddock's  a  moment,  and  will  be  right  back."  It  wasn't  that  he  had 
anything  to  say  to  Haddock,  but  Haddock  had  succeeded  him  as  second 
lieutenant  of  Rolfe's  troop,  and  was  no  fonder  of  his  stern,  self-willed  com- 
mander than  Curly  himself  had  been.  It  was  simply  that  he  would  not 
yield  a  moral  victory  to  Rolfe,  and  that  in  naming  Haddock  he  knew  he 
gave  at  least  a  slight  return  for  the  annoyance  afforded  him  by  the  captain's 
untimely  call. 

Giving  no  sign  whatever  as  Brewster  sprang  away  down  the  steps,  the 
captain  passed  on  into  the  plainly-furnished  sitting-room.  Already  McCann 
was  busy  hauling  out  the  lieutenant's  field-boots,  breeches,  and  overcoat, 
whisking  off"  the  dust  and  indulging  in  Milesian  comment  as  he  did  so.  At 
sight  of  Rolfe  he  abruptly  ceased,  bustled  forward  and  offfered  the  captain 
a  chair,  and  a  moment  later  bolted  across  the  hall  to  perform  similar  ser- 
vice in  overhauling  and  dusting  Mr.  Randolph's  possessions. 

Left  to  himself,  Rolfe  wearily  turned  to  the  mantel,  and,  without  show 
of  interest,  glanced  over  the  various  photographs  there  displayed.  Tliey 
were  mainly  of  army  friends,  young  fellows  in  whom  he  felt  slight  interest 
at  any  time  and  none  at  all  now.  So  were  those  in  the  basket  on  the  round 
table.  Brewster  was  popular,  if  one  were  to  judge  by  the  array  of  pictures 
that  had  been  sent  to  him  by  their  prototypes.  Then  there  was  a  large, 
handsome  album  lying  open  "on  the  desk  near  the  window.  Turning  list- 
lessly thither,  Rolfe  gave  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  something  almost  like  a 
shudder,  at  sight  of  the  photograph  which  lay  uppermost,  a  cabinet  por- 
trait, highly  burnished  and  finished,  of  an  exuberant  woman  in  evening 


276  -^   SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

dress.  In  that  neighborhood  everybody  knew  her  by  sight.  He  himself 
had  received  invitations  in  her  hand  to  lunch  or  to  dinner.  He  knew  the 
writing  of  the  note  that  lay  beside  the  album,  first  page  uppermost.  He 
would  have  had  no  eyes  at  all  had  he  not  seen  the  "Carroll,  mon  ami,^' 
with  which  it  began.  With  a  shiver  of  disgust  he  whirled  over  a  page 
of  the  album,  as  though  to  cover  and  hide  the  beguiling  face,  the  betraying 
words,  and  then  Brewster  came  bounding  back  and  in.  Rolfe's  hand  was 
still  on  the  album  as  he  turned  to  face  him.  The  eyes  of  the  two  men  met, 
and  again  Brewster  flushed  hotly.  He  remembered  that  only  in  the  morn- 
ing's mail  had  the  large  packet  arrived  containing  this  unasked-for  and  un- 
expected addition  to  his  portrait-gallery.  He  had  not  opened  it  until  after 
court, — had  not  more  than  glanced  at  the  photograph  even  then,  beautiful 
as  it  was  from  an  artistic  point  of  view.  Then  that  note,  and  that  idiotic 
semi-sentimental  beginning !  She  had  never  called  him  Carroll,  but  in 
certain  evasive,  insinuating,  in— well,  we  have  no  word  for  it  in  all  the  vo- 
cabulary of  the  United  States— in  a  way  he  could  not  but  see  and  could  not 
find  a  way  to  object  to,  she  had  been  lately  verging  in  that  direction.  It 
was  "Now,  Mr.  Carroll  Brewster,"  or  "my  good  friend  Carroll,"  or  "Sir 
Carroll,"  or  in-some-way  Carroll  ;  but  here  was  an  out-and-out  Carroll,  the 
first  of  the  kind.  A  month  before  he  might  not  have  flinched,  now  he 
shrank  from  the  mere  idea  of  familiarity  of  the  faintest  kind.  He  had  been 
striving  to  cut  loose  from  her  in  every  possible  way,  but  hers  was  a  friend- 
ship that  "  clung  closer  than  a  brother,"  and  just  as  sure  as  shooting  Rolfe 
must  have  seen  that  infernal  picture,  those  misleading  words.  Brewster 
read  it  in  Rolfe's  calm  brown  eyes,  but  he  would  not  discuss  matters  with 
him,  much  less  stoop  to  explain. 

"  You  wish  to  see  me,  captain.    Will  you  take  a  seat?" 

"  No.  What  I  have  to  ask  need  occupy  but  little  time,  and  the  call  will 
sound  in  a  moment  or  two.  I  am  going  to  ask  you  a  question,  and  as  man 
to  man  I  want  you  to  answer  it."  He  paused,  as  though  awaiting  submis- 
sive reply. 

"And  the  question?"  asked  Brewster,  finally  and  unyielding. 

"  I  was  in  hopes  you  would  assure  me  of  a  readiness  to  answer.  What- 
soever have  been  the  differences  between  us  in  the  past,  you  can  never  ac- 
cuse me  of  having  pried  into  your  affairs,  and  the  question  I  wish  to  ask  is 
one  of  deep  importance  to  myself,  and  its  answer  cannot,  I  believe,  un- 
pleasantly involve  you."  And  still  Brewster  stood  silent,  the  blue  eyes 
looking  straight  into  the  brown.  "  I  will  not  prolong  matters  unneces- 
sarily. What  I  desire  to  know,  Mr.  Brewster,  is  this :  Have  you,  or  have 
you  not,  some  knowledge  of  the  past  history  of  Sergeant  Ellis?" 

"  Pardon  me,  CajDtain  Rolfe,  but  I  do  not  see  how  that  can  concern  you 
in  the  least." 

"I  have  stated  substantially  that  it  did,"  was  the  quiet  reply,  after  a 
moment's  thought.  "It  concerns  me  very  deeply.  I  need  to  know  some- 
thing of  his  antecedents.     I  have  reason  to  ask,  and  I  repeat  my  question." 

There  was  a  painful  pause.     Then  Brewster  spoke  firmly  : 

"  Captain  Rolfe,  it  is  a  question  I  refuse  to  answer." 


IV. 

That  night,  despite  the  long  hours  in  the  saddle,  the  young  officers 
had  bidden  their  lady  friends  to  an  informal  dance  in  the  hop-room.  It 
was  just  a  week  afterNita  Guthrie's  adventure,  and  already,  except  in  the 
thoughts  of  two  or  three  men,  that  strange  affair  Avas  a  thing  of  the  past. 
People  had  settled  down  to  an  acceptance  of  her  own  explanation  of  the 
cause,  not  that  it  was  entirely  satisfactory,  but  because  no  other  seemed 
plausible.  Just  why  a  girl  should  have  been  rendered  nervous  and  upset 
because  she  had  had  a  proposal,  Mrs.  Vance,  of  course,  could  not  understand, 
— "especially,"  said  she,  "a  girl  who  was  reputed  to  have  had  so  many 
offers."  It  "was  laughingly  remarked  by  various  military  Benedicts  that 
since  the  moment  when  Miss  Guthrie's  scream  of  terror  had  appalled  the 
garrison  the  dames  and  damsels  of  their  several  households  had  shown  an 
unwonted  degree  of  timidity  visiting  about  the  post  after  night-fall,  and 
that  much  more  than  the  traditional  amount  of  hunting  behind  curtains 


A   SOLDIER'S  SECRET.  277 

and  under  bedsteads  was  now  going  on.  Berrien  Vas  especially  jocular, 
and  more  than  ever  disposed  to  tell  his  cronies  in  her  presence  tiiat  Beren- 
garia  had  said  this  or  Berengaria  had  done  that,  the  this  or  tliat  being 
something  more  than  usually  absurd  or  improbable.  But  in  the  conversa- 
tions held  of  late  in  the  sanctity  of  Berengaria's  boudoir  the  major  had 
been  anything  but  jocular.  There  was  one  incident  of  that  evening  that 
had  caused  him  deej)  perplexity.  He  had  never  for  a  moment  forgotten 
his  wife's  allusion  to  Winifred, — Winifred,  the  apple  of  his  eye.  The  pos- 
sibility of  her  having  lost  her  young  heart  to,  or  even  having  come  to 
feel  more  than  passing  interest  in,  Carroll  Brewster,  was  something  that 
troubled  him  far  more  than  he  cared  to  admit.  Like  many  another  father, 
he  had  gone  on  fancying  his  daughter  only  a  child, — one  to  whom  the  idea 
of  falling  in  love  would  not  present  itself  for  years  to  come,  and  then  only 
on  parental  intimation  that  it  was  expected  of  her.  Personally  and  offi- 
cially he  had  nothing  against  Brewster.  He  liked  him  quite  as  well  as  he 
did  any  of  the  junior  officers,  and  he  liked  most  of  them  very  much  indeed. 
It  was  as  soldierly,  manly  a  lot  of  young  fellows  as  one  could  ask  to  see,  but 
in  the  close  comradeship  and  intimacy  of  frontier  life  men  get  to  know  one 
another  so  thoroughly  and  so  well  that  the  foibles,  weaknesses,  and  way- 
wardness of  the  animal  are  apt  to  be  far  more  i^roniiuently  mentioned  iu 
garrison-chat  than  his  sterling  or  lovable  traits.  Some  men,  it  may  be  said, 
have  to  die  before  their  virtues  can  be  in  the  least  appreciated. 

More  than  once  had  the  major  closely  interrogated  his  wife  as  to  the 
reason  of  her  statement.  Had  the  young  fellow  dared  to  speak  to  Winifred 
without  first  asking  his  permission?  Had  Winifred  dared  to  fall  in  love 
before — but  no,  that  was  impossible.  "  What  makes  you  think  she  cares 
for  him?" — "  How  do  you  know?" — "  Why  should  she  care  for  him,  any- 
how?" were  the  impatient  questions  that  rose  to  his  lips.  To  one  and  all 
she  had  simply  replied  that  she  knew  because  she  knew, — woman's  unan- 
swerable reason.  No,  Winifred  had  not  told  her.  They  had  never  ex- 
changed a  word  upon  the  subject.  No,  Mr.  Brewster  had  not  sjjoken,  if  by 
that  was  meant  of  love  or  marriage,  for  Winifred  would  have  told  her  on 
the  instant.  But  half  a  dozen  other  people  had  spoken.  The  whole  garri- 
son could  see  he  was  deeply  in  love  with  her.  Every  glance,  word,  gesture, 
act,  told  the  story  with  unerring  certainty.  "Is  there  a  day,  is  there  an 
hour,  when  it  is  possible  for  him  to  see  her,  speak  with  her,  that  he  is  not 
by  her  side?"  asked  Mrs.  Berrien.  "You  must  realize  it,  major,  and  j'ou 
must  decide  what  should  be  done.  She  likes  him  well,  that  I  know,  for 
she  is  ever  ready  to  dance  with  him  or  ride  with  him,  and  I  can  see  how 
her  eyes  brighten  and  her  color  rises  when  his  step  or  his  voice  is  heard  on 
the  veranda." 

"But,  confound  it,  Bess!" — which  was  much  nearer  Madam's  proper 
name, — "  he  hasn't  anything  but  his  pay." 

Mrs.  Berrien  laughed  softly. 

"But,  Richard,  dear,  even  that  detriment  has  occasionally  been  over- 
looked." 

"  Oh,  of  course.  Exactly.  I  know.  Neither  had  I.  That  is  what  you 
mean,  I  suppose.     But  things  were  very  different  then." 

"  Granted  again,  Dick, — very  different ;  so  much  so  that  were  things  as 
they  used  to  be  I  would  be  utterly  opposed  to  her  marrying  in  the  army." 

This  being  just  exactly  the  view  the  major  had  not  taken,  he  could  only 
stare  at  her  in  astonishment. 

"  Bess,  what  on  earth  do  you  mean  ?" 

"Just  what  I  say,  Richard.  I  like  what  I've  seen  of  Mr.  Brewster 
very  much,  and  I  don't  wonder  Winnie  fancies  him.  He  is  a  gentleman  ; 
he  is  a  fine  soldier  ;  he  has  a  good  record  ;  he  is  well  connected  ;  his  family 
is  one  of  the  best  that  you  or  I  know  ;  he  has  everything  in  point  of  fact 
to  recommend  him  that  you  had,  my  liege,  and  he  has  none  of  your  bad 
habits.  You  used  to  drink  and  smoke  and  play  poker,  and,  Richard,  some- 
times you  used  to  swear." 

"Well,  everybody  did  in  those  days." 

"  Exactly,  and  hardly  anybody  does  to-day,  except,  perhaps,  one  hears 
a  little  odd  language  when  the  wind  is  blowing  from  the  drill-ground.  But 
in  other  respects  things  are,  indeed,  different.  You  and  your  cronies  some- 
times talk  about  how  slow  and  how  indifferent  young  officers  are  now  as 
compared  with  what  they  wei*e  twenty  years  ago.    Dick,  if  the  army  were 


278  ^  SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

to-day  what  it  was  when  I  married  you  I  would  wliisk  Winnie  out  of  this 
garrison  and  never  let  her  venture  inside  another.  But  it  isn't.  In  every 
possible  way  that  a  woman  and  a  mother  can  see,  it  is  vastly  better,  and 
you  know  it.  I  can  conceive  of  worse  fates  for  our  daughter  than  that  she 
should  marry  such  a  man  as  Mr.  Brewster  and  into  such  a  society  as  we 
have  here  to-day.  You  are  eagerly  looking  forward  to  your  promotion.  Do 
you  think  being  lieutenant-colonel  will  compensate  you  for  leaving  such 
comrades  and  friends  as  you  have  in  the  Twelfth?" 

"  I'm  hoping  to  exchange." 

"You  can't,  Dick.  Nobody  will  transfer  with  you  who  once  gets  into 
the  Twelfth.  And  now  as  to  Winifred.  You  always  liked  Mr.  Brewster. 
You  rather  preferred  him  until  lately.     What  has  changed  your  view  ?" 

"Nothing,  except — why — why,  Bess,  you  must  have  seen  or  heard,  for 
one, thing,  this  affair  with  Mrs. you  know." 

"  As  utterly  one-sided  an  affair  as  ever  was  known,"  said  Mrs.  Berrien, 
stoutly.  "  I  believe  I  can  see  clear  through  it.  I  despise  the  woman.  She 
has  always  made  a  dead  set  at  some  one  of  the  officers  stationed  here,  I  am 
told.  She  was  just  as  absurd  about  Mr.  Martin  of  the  Eleventh,— every- 
body says  so  in  town  ;  and  she  picked  out  Brewster  because  he  was  the 
handsomest  of  the  new  lot  when  our  regiment  came  in.  Ask  any  one  you 
choose,  and  I  think  my  view  will  hold  good.  Ask  Captain  Rolfe  what  he 
thinks  ;  and  he  and  Mr.  Brewster  are  not  on  friendly  terms." 

"I  have  asked  Eolfe  ;  I  asked  him  only  this  evening,"  replied  Ber- 
rien, turning  redder;  "and  he  begged  to  be  excused  from  expressing  an 
opinion." 

"Why?" 

"  Well,  he  wouldn't  say,  but  he  had  seen  something  or  other  that  we 
hadn't,  and  he  doesn't  like  Brewster.  I  can't  have  a  man  making  love  to 
Winnie  one  minute  and  that  calcimined  creature  the  next.  I  wish  there 
were  no  dance  to-night.     I  want  to  see  Rolfe  again.     Who  takes  her?" 

"  Mr.  Brewster,  of  course.  He  asked  her  two  days  ago,  when  the  affair 
was  first  projected.    He  is  in  the  parlor  now  ;  but  so  are  all  the  others." 

The  major  stepped  over  to  the  window  and  began  thrumming  with  his 
pudgy  fingers  upon  the  pane.  All  the  joviality  and  gladness  seemed  gone 
from  his  face.  The  lights  were  already  beginning  to  twinkle  in  the  quarters 
across  the  parade,  and  darkness,  "wafted  downward  like  a  feather,"  was 
shutting  out  the  long  line  of  shadowy  bluffs  beyond  the  stream.  Down- 
stairs he  could  hear  the  sound  of  joyous  chatter,  the  deep  voices  of  the  men 
mingling  with  tlie  rippling,  silvery  laughter  he  knew  and  loved  so  well. 
How  happy  the  child  seemed  !  How  she  loved  the  regiment  and  gloried  in 
his  profession  !  How  proud  she  was  at  school  of  the  photographs  he  had 
from  time  to  time  sent  of  his  brother  officers,  and  how  the  other  girls,  her 
letters  declared,  envied  her  because  she  was  a  soldier's  daughter  and  had 
lived  on  the  wild  frontier  !  He  could  hear  the  sound  of  other  girlish  voices, 
too,  Winifred's  friends  from  town,  but  he  found  that  his  ear  listened  only 
for  hers.  How  blithe  and  musical  and  full  of  hope  and  gladness  it  seemed  ! 
How  lovely  she  looked  as  she  came  down  dressed  for  dinner  just  as  he 
returned  from  that  odd,  constrained  talk  with  Rolfe  !  Poor  Rolfe  !  he  was 
given  over  to  the  blue  devils  now,  sure  enough.  He  and  Kenyon  and 
"  Pills,"  the  doctor,  formed  a  triumvirate  of  sympathetic  souls,  for  since 
Jennie  and  "  the  kids"  had  gone  Holden's  life  seemed  to  have  fallen  into 
the  sear  and  yellow  leaf.  Kenyon,  as  in  duty  bound,  was  making  the  cir- 
cuit of  the  garrison  returning  calls  just  now,  but  Rolfe  went  nowhere  ex- 
cept the  doctor's.  There  he  could  be  found  almost  every  evening,  for  ever 
since  Nita  Guthrie's  visit  the  walls  of  the  old  house  seemed  charmed  to 
him.  "Begad,"  said  the  major,  "  I'll  slip  over  there  to-night  myself  while 
the  rest  of  the  folks  are  dancing.  I  want  to  see  what  it  is  he  is  holding 
back." 

For  the  life  of  him  he  could  not  be  repellent  in  manner  to  Brewster 
when  he  went  down-stairs.  The  three  young  fellows  honored  with  invita- 
tions on  this  particular  evening  were  Brewster,  Randolph,  and  Ridgeway, — 
Brewster  because  he  was  to  be  Winifred's  escort  to  the  hop,  the  others  be- 
cause they  had  made  the  best  of  matters  and  invited  the  other  girls,  Ridge- 
way, be  it  known,  not  without  inward  exasperation.  He  fancied  Miss 
Kitty  Pennoyer  as  a  substitute  for  Winifred  Berrien  about  as  much  or  as 
little  as  one  is  content  with  a  back  seat  when  he  cannot  have  a  box.    But 


A   SOLDIER'S  SECRET.  279 

it  kept  him  "in  touch  with  the  house,"  so  to  speak,  and  gave  him  oppor- 
tunities at  least  of  occasional  word  with  the  beautiful  girl  whom  he  so 
admired.  He  knew  he  was  no  match  for  Brewster  so  far  as  physique  or 
reputation  was  concerned,  but  then  girls  had  been  known  to  prefer  patri- 
monial estate  to  personal  charms,  and  he  meant  at  least  to  try  the  effect  of 
his  solid  qualifications  as  against  those  which  made  Brewster  so  attractive 
to  the  sex.  He  knew  the  major  liked  him  well  enough,  and  he  thought  he 
could  count  on  the  good  offices  of  Mrs.  Berrien,  but  he  was  not  so  sure 
about  Winifred.  When  the  jovial  major  appeared  he  was  in  readiness  to 
pay  his  respects  at  once,  and  was  cordially  welcomed  by  that  red-faced 
veteran ;  so  was  Randolph  ;  and  then  there  stood  Brewster  at  Winnie's 
side,  both,  as  it  so  happened,  looking  straight  at  him. 

"  Well,  by  Jove,  they  do  make  an  almost  ideal  couple  !"  he  said  to  him- 
self. Brewster  fair,  stalwart,  straight,  and  soldierly,  a  picture  of  manliness 
and  vigor.  "Winifred  dark,  yet  with  so  rich  a  glow  mantling  the  soft 
creamy  skin,  with  such  glorious  deep  brown-black  eyes,  so  lovely  and 
slender  and  graceful  a  form.  Her  shapely  head  seemed  just  on  a  level 
with  his  broad  shoulder,  and  something  he  had  been  saying  to  her  in  low 
tone  just  as  the  others  were  greeting  her  father  had  sent  the  blood  surging 
to  her  cheek.  Berrien  thought  she  had  never  seemed  so  beautiful,  even  in 
his  fond  eyes.  For  the  first  time  he  began  to  realize  it  was  a  woman,  not  a 
child,  who  stood  before  him.  No  wonder  Brewster  loved  her  with  his 
whole  soul.    Why,  if  he  didn't !  pshaw  !  what  was  he  thinking  of? 

"  How  are  you,  Brewster,  lad?  Glad  you're  here  so  early.  Your  troop 
made  my  eyes  dance  this  afternoon."  Oh,  surrender  ignominious !  So 
ended  his  eflbrt  to  be  repellent.  How  could  he  be,  with  Winifred's  soft  eyes 
looking  at  him  so  wistfully,  so  fondly? 

And  it  was  good  to  see  Brewster's  appreciation  of  the  veteran's  allusion 
to  his  troop.  Gorham,  the  captain,  had  been  away  on  leave  for  some  weeks, 
during  which  time  the  lieutenant  had  had  command,  and,  soldier  that  he 
was,  had  done  his  utmost  to  improve  the  drill  and  efficiency  of  his  men. 
It  was  about  the  only  troop  that  did  not  come  in  for  a  rasping  of  some  kind 
at  the  hands  of  the  colonel  that  afternoon,  and,  being  in  Berrien's  battalion, 
reflected  credit,  of  course,  upon  the  major.  Brewster's  eyes  had  kindled 
and  he  had  lowered  his  sabre  in  glad  acknowledgment  of  the  brief  words 
of  commendation  that  fell  from  Farquhar's  lips  as  he  completed  his  rigid 
inspection  of  the  equipment  of  the  glossy  blacks,  and  the  major  had  sup- 
plemented the  words  by  a  nod  and  a  glance  that  spoke  volumes.  But, 
while  all  this  was  as  joy  to  his  soul,  it  was  as  nothing  as  compared  with 
being  praised  by  her  father  in  her  hearing.  At  that  precise  moment 
Carroll  Brewster  stood  the  happiest  man  within  the  limits  of  a  crowded 
county. 

And  now  at  ten  o'clock  the  hop-room  was  well  filled.  A  number  of 
pleasant  people  had  driven  out  from  town.  All  the  garrison  girls  were 
there,  most  of  the  elders  among  the  mammas,  all  the  juniors  among  the 
matrons,  and  the  dance  went  merrily  on.  Delightful  music  the  orchestra 
of  the  Twelfth  was  ever  ready  to  play,  and  this  night  their  leader  seemed 
Inspired.  The  affair  was  entirely  informal.  No  written  invitations  had 
been  sent  out.  Officers  were  all  in  undress  uniform,  but,  with  few  excep- 
tions, all  were  there,  and  the  bi'oad  stripes  of  scarlet  or  yellow  or  white 
were  to  be  seen  everywhere  throughout  the  room.  Mrs.  Berrien,  a  smile  of 
motherly  pride  in  her  handsome  dark  eyes,  was  chatting  pleasantly  with 
the  wife  of  a  local  magnate  who  could  not  say  enough  about  Winifred's 
grace  and  beauty,  and  the  gaze  of  both  women  seemed  to  follow  the  child 
as  she  appeared  literally  to  float  over  the  smoothly-polished  floor,  just 
lightly  borne  on  Brewster's  stalwart  arm.  It  was  one  of  the  oldest  and 
sweetest  of  the  Strauss  waltzes  that  was  being  played  at  the  moment, 
"Geschichten  aus  dem  Wienerwald,"  and,  slowly  reversing  and  turning, 
with  the  eyes  of  more  than  half  the  spectatoi's  and  wall-flowers  upon  them, 
Brewster  and  Winifred  were  now  gliding  across  the  upper  end  of  the  hall 
within  a  few  feet  of  the  smiling  row  of  lookers-on,  almost  within  touch  of 
the  mother's  hand.  His  face  wore  a  look  no  woman  could  for  an  instant 
mistake.  His  eyes,  full  of  passionate  tenderness,  were  fixed  at  the  instant 
upon  her  lovely  face.     His  lips  were  moving.    Something  was  being  said. 

"  There  is  one  couple  at  least  that  is  utterly  lost  to  the  rest  of  the  world," 
said  Mrs.  Vance,  for  of  a  sudden  the  lovely  upturned  face  was  bowed  al- 


280  ^   SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

most  upon  his  arm,  and  the  deep,  dark  eyes  were  veiled,  and  the  soft  flush 
seemed  to  leap  through  the  creamy  skin  to  her  very  temples. 

"Oh,  has  that  fellow  Bidgeway  no  sense  whatever?"  she  continued, 
with  all  a  woman's  horror  of  an  interrupted  love-scene,  for  at  the  instant 
Ridgeway  had  darted  forth,  watch  in  hand,  with  a  triumphant  shout, 
"Time  !  My  half!"  And  without  a  word,  with  one  swift  upward  glance 
into  Brewster's  longing  eyes, — a  glance  fairly  brimming  over  with  mean- 
ing,— Winifred  released  herself  from  the  half-encircling  arm  and  placed  her 
hand  on  Bidgeway's  sleeve.  Another  moment,  and  she  was  being  whirled 
away  under  the  guidance  of  a  very  different  partner. 

"Miss  Berrien's  fan,"  said  Brewster,  bowing  a  moment  later  before  her 
mother.  "  I  was  charged  to  place  it  in  your  hands."  His  heart  was  beating 
high.  The  music  seemed  thrilling,  throbbing,  through  his  veins.  He 
longed  to  hold  forth  both  hands  and  say,  "  Read  my  secret.  Know  my 
heart!  I  love  her!  oh,  I  love  her!"  But  there  satMrs.  Van  Ness,  the 
banker's  wife,  with  broad  sympathy  and  approval  glowing  in  her  good- 
uatured  face. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Brewster,  it  wasn't  easy  to  give  up  half  that  dance, — was  it, 
now?    Why  do  you  do  such  things  in  the  army?" 

"There  were  only  four  waltzes,  Mrs.  Van  Ness,"  smiled  Mrs.  Berrien. 
"  Mr.  Brewster  had  liad  one,  and  had  claimed  this,  and  Mr.  Ridgeway  had 
had  none  at  all,  and  Winifred  and  I  both  thought  he  ought  not  to  be  denied 
entirely.     It  is  the  only  round  dance  he  knows." 

Saying  no  word,  Brewster  had  dropped  behind  Mrs.  Berrien's  chair. 

"He  doesn't  know  that  any  too  well,"  said  Mrs.  Van  Ness  to  herself. 
"Where  could  he  have  learned  to  dance?"  The  floor  was  crowded  at  the 
moment,  and  unusually  slippery,  so  that  reversing  or  avoidance  of  collision 
was  rendered  the  more  difficult  even  for  experts.  Twice  had  Ridgeway 
bumped  into  somebody  or  other,  without  grievous  disaster,  but  now,  as  luck 
would  have  it,  came  catastrophe.  In  the  efl^brt  to  check  himself  suddenly 
just  as  he  seemed  shooting  into  contact  with  a  slender  light-battery  man 
whom  he  could  not  have  touched  had  he  tried,  the  young  fellow's  feet  flew 
from  under  him.  Left  to  herself,  Winifred  would  no  more  have  fallen  than 
a  bird.  Drowning  men  clutch  at  straws,  and  poor,  rich  Ridgeway 's  instant 
impulse  on  feeling  himself  going  was  to  clasp  her  the  tighter,  dragging  her 
with  him  in  his  ignominious  crash.  His  tumble  was  bad  enough,  though 
he  was  unhurt,  but  hers  was  worse.  With  violent  shock  her  head  struck 
the  polished  floor,  and  the  room  swam  around.  A  dozen  men  flew  to  aid 
her,  but  Brewster  seemed  to  have  seen  it  coming.  He  leaped  through  the 
air,  and,  bending  over  the  prostrate  Ridgeway,  had  her  up  in  his  strong 
arms  and  over  at  the  window  before  another  hand  could  touch  her. 

"Quick,  Hunt,  some  Avater !"  he  ordered,  his  teeth  flrmly  set.  Then 
how  his  eyes  softened  as  he  looked  down  into  her  pallid  face!  "Oh,  my 
darling,  my  darling  !"  he  murmured  in  that  little,  shell-like  ear  ;  and  then, 
with  wild  anxiety  in  her  eyes,  Mrs.  Berrien  burst  through  the  sympathetic 
circle. 

It  was  all  over  in  a  moment.  The  music  never  ceased.  She  was 
stunned  only  for  an  instant,  and  then,  though  Mrs.  Berrien  would  have 
interposed,  like  the  little  heroine  she  was,  Winifred  was  on  her  feet  and 
holding  out  her  hand  to  poor,  bewildered,  miserable  Ridgeway. 

"But  come,  we  must  finish  the  dance,"  she  said,  and  in  so  saying 
riveted  the  chains  of  his  serfdom. 

"i"  wouldn't  dance  with  him  again,"  said  Mrs.  Vance,  who  had  an 
opinion  to  express  on  every  subject.     "  Why,  he  almost  broke  her  head." 

"  If  she  didn't,  she'd  break  his  heart,  Mrs.  Vance,"  was  old  Kenyon's 
reply,  as  he  watched  the  scene.     "  That  girl's  a  lady." 

"  Am  I  not  to  be  honored  to-night,  Mr.  Brewster?"  said-  a  low  voice  in 
his  ear  as  he  stood  silent,  anxious,  preoccupied,  by  Mrs.  Berrien's  side,  his 
eyes  following  Winifred  about  the  room.  The  very  intonation  made  him 
turn  cold. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mrs.  Knowles,  I  only  saw  a  moment  ago  that  you 
were  here." 

She  was  leaning  on  her  husband's  arm.  "  Not  half  a  bad  fellow,  if  he 
is  a  blind  fool,"  said  those  of  his  own  sex  who  knew  him.  Years  her  senior, 
he  was  yet  her  slave.  Witness  his  coming  out  from  town  this  late  Novem- 
ber night  solely  at  her  behest  to  attend  a  dance  to  which  neither  was  bidden. 


A   SOLDIER'S  SECRET.  281 

"  Ah,  I  wonder  you  saw  at  all,  my  friend,  with  that  vision  before  your 
eyes  ;  and  I  presume  that  was  why  you  had  no  time  to  come  in  person  with 
your  invitation." 

"  No  invitations  are  sent  out  for  these  little  dances,  Mrs.  Knowles." 

"  There,  there,  I'm  not  going  to  upbraid  you  here. — Mr.  Knowles, 
would  you  get  me  a  glass  of  water  ? — Mr.  Brewster,  will  you  not  present  me 
to  Mrs.  Berrien  ?  We  have  exchanged  calls,  but  I  have  not  yet  had  the 
pleasure." 

What  could  he  do?  The  request  was  as  audible  to  Mrs.  Berrien  as  to 
him,  and,  even  as  she  spoke,  Mrs.  Knowles  passed  around  in  front  of  him 
so  as  almost  to  face  the  major's  wife,  taking  the  introduction  as  a  matter  of 
course.  He  glanced  appealingly  at  Mrs.  Berrien  as  he  murmured  the  name. 
He  blessed  her  in  his  heart  of  hearts  for  the  calm  courtesy  with  which  she 
greeted  the  local  celebrity.  He  bit  his  Ups  with  vexation  at  Mrs.  Knowles's 
very  first  words : 

"  I  could  not  resist  the  longing  to  know  you,  Mrs.  Berrien,  for  I  am 
utterly  lost  in  admiration  of  your  lovely  daughter."  She,  daring  to  speak 
of  one  so  pure,  so  innocent,  so  utterly  beyond  her!  Turning  impatiently 
away,  he  encountered  Major  Berrien's  eyes  fixed  upon  him  with  a  look  that 
Avas  not  good  to  see.  He  stepped  forward,  hoping  to  explain,  but  Berrien, 
who  had  just  entered  the  room  after  an  absence  of  over  half  an  hour, 
whirled  shai'ply  about,  plainly  indicating  that  he  did  not  wish  to  speak. 
This  was  bad  enough.  He  had  been  near  the  seventh  heaven  of  bliss.  He 
had  almost  touched  the  gates  of  pearl.  Now  they  were  receding  through 
clouds  and  darkness,  fading  in  tlie  distance.  But  worse  was  to  come.  Mrs. 
Knowles  had  seated  herself  by  Mrs.  Berrien's  side,  pouring  forth  rapid 
compliment  and  confidence.  The  music  had  ceased.  Ridgeway,  with  Wini- 
fred on  his  arm,  was  approaching,  slowly,  checked  every  moment  by  man 
or  woman  who  begged  to  hear  that  sbe  was  not  shocked  or  seriously  hurt. 
It  was  not  until  she  was  within  a  few  yards  that  Winifred  caught  sight  of 
her  mother's  companion,  —caught  sight  of  the  faint  gesture  and  the  warning 
in  her  mother's  eyes.  Then  she  pressed  her  escort's  arm  and  turned  him 
away. 

"  Oh,  do  call  Miss  Winifred  here.  I  so  long  to  meet  her,  Mrs.  Berrien," 
cried  Mrs.  Knowles  ;  and  what  could  Mrs.  Berrien  do?  The  flush  died  out 
of  Winifred's  cheeks,  the  soft  lustre  from  her  eyes.  Obedient  to  her  mother's 
unwilling  summons,  she  stood  before  the  lady  from  town,  but  she  stood 
erect,  and  there  was  not  the  faintest  cordiality  in  her  manner.  The  long- 
lashed  lids  drooped  over  her  eyes  as  she  bowed  to  the  elder  woman,  but  her 
hand,  to  Ridgeway's  delight,  refused  to  withdraw  from  his  arm.  No  one 
saw  more  plainly  than  did  Mrs.  Knowles  that  nothing  could  be  more  un- 
welcome than  that  introduction  ;  and  it  stung  her  to  the  quick.  Checking 
the  fulsome  flatteries  that  were  ready  on  her  tongue,  she  said, — 

"  I  could  not  go,  Miss  Berrien,  without  saj'ing  how  frightened  I  was 
for  you  and  how  glad  to  see  you  were  not  hurt."  Then,  turning  languidly, 
"And  now,  Carroll,  will  you  take  me  to  the  carriage?  Somebody  can  call 
Mr.  Knowles. — Good-night,  Mrs.  Berrien.  Do  come  and  see  me."  And, 
taking  Mr.  Brewster's  unoffered  arm,  she  led  him  down  the  brightly -lighted 
and  observant  room. 


It  is  Mr.  Thomas  Hughes  who  asks  in  "Tom  Brown  at  Oxford," 
"Which  is  the  true — ay,  and  the  brave — man,  he  who  trembles  before  a 
woman  or  he  before  whom  a  woman  trembles?"  There  are  men  who  could 
have  found  it  no  difficult  matter  to  flatly  decline  to  serve  even  as  temporary 
escort  to  a  woinan  so  evidently  bent  on  mischief, — who  could  have  rebuked 
then  and  there  the  assumption  of  intimacy  and  proprietorship  which  if  un- 
challenged might  mean  disaster.  Brewster  did  neither.  She  read  him  well 
enough  to  see  that,  though  he  was  too  indignant  to  permit  himself  to  speak,  he 
was  also  too  much  of  a  gentleman  to  snub  her.  Bravely,  therefore,  she  bore 
her  part,  keeping  up  an  animated  flow  of  meaningless  words  until  fairly  out 
of  the  hop-room,  then  promptly  shifting  to  that  feminine  coigne  of  vantage 
wherein  lies  woman's  greatest  strength, — a  gush  of  silent  tears.  She  knew 
too  much  to  add  reproaches,  accusations,  angry  words :  that  would  have 


282  ^   SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

given  him  something  to  answer,  something  to  overthrow.  It  is  only  when 
a  woman  weeps,  silently,  desolately,  showing  no  anger,  making  no  charge, 
that  she  has  man  at  her  mercy.  Utterly  false  as  was  the  position  in  which 
she  had  placed  Brewster  before  the  garrison  world  at  this  nvoinent,  he  actu- 
ally did  not  know  but  that  he  might  be  blamable  for  all, — that  he  might  be 
much  less  sinned  against  than  sinning.  He  was  no  fool,  only  so  much  of 
one  as  the  strongest  of  his  kind  sometimes  become  in  the  hands  of  the  softer 
sex.  Samson  had  his  Delilah  ;  Hercules,  Omphale  ;  Belisarius,  poor  devil, 
had  both  Antonia  and  Theodora. 

It  was  bad  enough  to  have  her  shrink  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  carriage 
the  instant  he  had  assisted  her  in  and  there  give  way  to  apparently  uncon- 
trollable weeping  ;  it  was  bad  enough  to  have  to  stand  there  for  a  moment 
or  two  until  the  lady's  long-suffering  spouse  should  be  hunted  up  (he  had 
been  having  a  cigar  with  one  or  two  of  the  elders  in  the  sanctity  of  the  little 
smoking-i'oom)  ;  but  what  made  matters  simply  intolerable  was  that  just  at 
the  foot  of  tbe  stairs,  under  the  broad  gallery,  just  where  the  lantern  on  the 
big  pillar  would  shine  full  upon  himself  and  his  lachrymose  partner,  stood 
Major  Berrien  in  earnest  conversation  with  Captain  Rolfe,  and  both  looked 
up,  glanced  quickly  but  searchingly  at  him  and  at  her,  raised  their  forage- 
caps in  silent  salutation,  and  turned  away.  Poor  Curly  !  As  in  duty  bound, 
he  leaned  into  the  carriage,  not  too  ardently  begging  the  weeping  dame  to 
say  what  had  so  distressed  her,  but  she  would  not  reply.  Possibly  she 
thought  he  might  yet  be  induced  to  clamber  in  after  her  and  there  in  the 
dark  interior  tenderly  beseech  her  to  speak  ;  but  he  was  all  eagerness  to 
hasten  back  to  the  hop-room.  If  he  could  but  have  speech  with  Mi'S.  Ber- 
rien a  moment,  he  might  make  her  understand  the  situation  :  she  had 
always  been  cordial  and  sympathetic.  But  it  was  three  or  four  minutes, 
perhaps,  before  Knowles  came,  thanked  him  for  his  attention  to  his  wife, 
stepped  in,  and— how  her  tears  were  explained  to  her  liege  lord  nobody 
knows.  Somebody  who  knew  her,  however,  was  mean  enough  to  suggest 
that  they  were  of  the  theatrical  and  controllable  order,  and,  as  Randolph  ex- 
pressed it,  "she  braced  up  and  grinned  as  soon  as  Curly  was  left  behind." 

The  instant  the  carriage  rolled  away,  Brewster  turned  and  sped  up  the 
stairs.  At  the  very  top  he  met  the  colonel  coming  hastily  down,  a  brown 
telegraph  envelope  in  his  hand,  the  soldier  operator,  with  a  look  of  repressed 
excitement  on  his  face,  close  at  his  heels. 

"  Come  with  me,  Brewster,"  said  Farquhar,  in  preoccupied  but  positive 
manner.— "  Morgan,  find  the  adjutant  and  quartermaster,  and  say  that  I 
wish  to  see  them  at  the  office." 

"  I'll  get  my  cap  and  follow  you  at  once,  sir,"  answered  Brewster,  and 
hastened  into  the  dressing-room.  There  he  met  Hazlett  and  Thorpe  just 
coming  out,  throwing  their  cavalry  capes  over  their  shoulders,  silent  and 
preoccupied  like  their  chief.  Seizing  his  cap,  Brewster  paused  one  longing 
instant  for  a  glance  into  the  hop-room.  Again  the  floor  was  thronged.  To 
the  merriest  of  music — "  Toujours  Galant"— the  younger  dancers  were  fairly 
romping  in  the  half-galop,  half-polka  step  the  joyous  tune  inspires,  and  in 
their  midst,  not  romping,  but  dancing  with  a  slower,  almost  languid  grace, 
Winifred  Berrien  appeared  to  his  troubled  gaze,  her  slender  waist  half  en- 
circled by  Randolph's  arm,  her  dark  eyes  downcast,  her  color  and  animation 
gone. 

"  Come,  Brewster,"  called  Hazlett  from  the  door- way,  "  Farquhar  wants 
us  at  ojice,  and  does  not  want  anybody  else  to  know." 

"What's  up?" 

"You'll  know  in  a  moment.  The  colonel  doesn't  want  it  mentioned 
here." 

At  the  foot  of  the  stairs  under  the  glare  of  the  same  big  lamp,  Farquhar, 
with  Berrien  and  Rolfe,  stood  waiting.  Glancing  impatiently  up  as  though 
to  make  sure  of  his  men,  Farquhar  took  Berrien  by  the  arm  and  silently  led 
the  way,  Rolfe  and  Hazlett,  Thorpe  and  Brewster,  "falling  in  behind.  It  was 
but  a  few  steps  to  the  office. 

"Pull  down  the  shades,  orderly  ;  and  one  lamp  will  be  enough.  That'll 
do.  Close  the  door,  and  remain  outside,"  said  Farquhar,  as  he  threw  off 
his  cape,  then  silently  waited  until  the  sleepy  trumpeter  had  carried  out  his 
orders  and  vanished.  By  this  time,  too,  Warren  and  Drake,  the  adjutant 
and  the  quartermaster,  had  come  bustling  in,  and,  noting  the  silence  of  those 
already  on  the  ground,  simply  removed  their  caps  and  waited  the  colonel's 


A   SOLDIER'S  SECRET.  283 

pleasure.  For  an  instant  Farquhar  stood  tapping  the  lid  of  the  desk  with 
the  butt  of  his  pencil  and  studying  the  long  despatch  which  he  held  in  his 
hand.    Then  he  looked  up. 

"Gentlemen,  we  are  ordered  to  the  field ;  one  battalion  to  go  at  once, 
the  other  to  follow  in  ten  hours,— just  as  soon  as  ears  can  be  provided. 
— Berrien,  you  will  lead  off." 

For  a  moment  not  a  word  from  anybody  ;  then  the  naajor  spoke  : 

"How  much  tiuie  have  we,  sir?" 

"  I  cannot  tell.  You  load  up  the  moment  the  railway-company  can  get 
a  train  here.  Tliey  have  plenty  of  engines  and  cars  at  the  junction,  and 
ought  to  be  able  to  furnish  what  we  need  by  daybreak.  Meantime,  you 
will  have  to  rouse  your  men,  pack  up  everything  that  is  not  to  be  taken, 
cook  three  days'  rations,  and  be  ready  to  get  the  horses  aboard.  Go  at  it  as 
quietly  as  possible.  I  want  nobody  at  the  hop  to  know  of  the  orders.  Let 
the  dance  go  on.  Your  men  must  take  all  their  blankets  and  the  heaviest 
clothing  they  have.  No  one  knows  what  may  be  in  store  for  us  either  in. 
furs  or  fighting." 

Again  dead  silence,  broken  only  by  the  rapid  clicking  of  the  telegraph 
instrument  in  the  adjoining  room  and  the  soft,  melodious  strains  borne  on 
the  wings  of  the  whispering  night  wind.  Another  waltz,  and  one  which 
she  had  promised  him  he  should  have  the  latter  half  of,  thought  Brewster. 
Even  now  he  listened  yearningly  to  recognize  the  strain.  Ay,  he  might 
have  known  it !  her  favorite  of  all, — "  Love's  Dreamland." 

But  the  colonel  was  speaking  again  :  "Of  course  you  will  do  well  to 
weed  out  any  sick  or  ineffectives  you  may  have.  It  is  going  to  be  a  bitter 
campaign,  and  after  our  summer  and  fall  under  Southern  suns  will  be  all 
the  tougher.  Holden  will  go  with  your  command,  Berrien,  and  I  have  sent 
for  him.  Here  are  your  four  troop  commanders  :  so  you  may  as  well  give 
your  instructions  at  once  and  let  them  get  to  work." 

"You  have  heard  the  colonel's  orders,  gentlemen:  I  do  not  know  of 
anything  I  have  to  add.  Start  out  your  first  sergeants  and  the  cooks  at 
once,  and  let  the  men  pack  without  unnecessary  noise.  I  will  give  all 
further  details  as  soon  as  Colonel  Farquhar  and  I  have  had  a  few  moments' 
conference." 

Again  the  telegraph  operator,  with  a  despatch. 

"I  thought  so,"  said  Farquhar.  "  Murray,  the  division  supermtendent, 
was  with  us  in  the  Shenandoah  and  at  Five  ^orks.  He  wires  that  the  train 
will  be  here  at  five  o'clock  at  the  latest, — two  engines,  twenty  freight-  or 
cattle-cars,  two  baggage-cars,  four  passenger  day-cars,  and  a  Pullman.  It 
is  eleven  now.     If  anything  is  wanted  you'll  find  me  here." 

Back  again  into  the  chill  night  air,  under  the  shining,  starry  vault, 
Berrien  and  his  four  troop  leaders  paused  for  a  moment  on  the  gravel 
walk. 

"Hazlett,  I  suppose  you  will  need  to  see  Mrs.  Hazlett  home,  and  you, 
Thorpe.  Better  go  and  rouse  your  sergeants  first,  then  come  back  to  the 
hop-room  ;  but,  mind  you,  not  a  word  there.  Rolfe,  you  and  Brewster  are 
among  the  blessed  to-night :  you  have  no  wives  to  break  the  news  to.  I 
will  give  your  subalterns  the  tip  to  report  to  you  just  as  soon  as  we  break 
up." 

Three  hands  went  to  the  cap-visor  in  salute,  three  oflBcers  turned  away. 
Warren,  the  adjutant,  came  hurrying  out : 

"  Oh,  major.  Colonel  Farquhar  begs  that  you  will  step  in  a  moment." 

"You  had  something  to  say,  Brewster?"  asked  the  major,  coldly. 

"Yes,  sir:  I — I  hope  to  hurry  back  in  time  to  escort  Miss  Berrien 
home." 

"  No,  don't  trouble  yourself.  I'll  attend  to  that.  You  have  other 
matters  to  occupy  you.""  And  if  ever  a  father's  tone  signified  that  dis- 
missal was  intended,  and  that  further  attentions  were  forbidden,  Berrien's 
did  as  he  abruptly  turned,  leaving  Brewster  stunned  and  silent  at  the  edge 
of  the  parade. 

In  ten  minutes  lights  were  dancing  like  will-o'-the-wLsps  about  the  gal- 
lery of  the  men's  quarters.  Quick,  bounding  footsteps  could  be  heard,  and 
the  low,  brief  orders  of  the  sergeants  as  they  went  flitting  from  door  to 
door.  Then  half-suppressed  exclamations,  an  occasional  smothered  yell  of 
excitement  or  delight  from  some  enthusiastic  Paddy,  ever  ready  for  a  frolic 
or  a  fight.    Then  a  gradually  swelling  murmur  of  voices,  the  rapid  scurry 


284  ^   SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

of  booted  feet,  a  clattering  up  and  down  the  stairways,  the  slamming  and 
banging  of  barrack  doors,  the  dragging  forth  of  heavy  chests  and  boxes, 
the  clank  of  a  dropped  sabre,  and  then  people  at  the  hop-room,  strolling 
out  on  the  broad  veranda  for  fresh  air  or  flirtation,  became  aware  of  the 
unusual  illumination  over  across  the  parade,  and  listening  heard  the  sounds 
of  bustle  and  preparation.  And  then  lights  began  to  pop  up  among  the 
windows  of  the  second  battalion,  where  the  news  had  rapidly  spread,  and 
where  dozens  of  troopers  tumbled  out  of  their  blankets  and  into  their  boots 
forthwith  and  went  charging  en  masse  upon  their  own  sergeants  to  know 
what  it  meant  that  "  them  fellers  in  the  first  battalion  had  had  orders  to 
be  up  and  getting  and  none  had  come  for  us."  In  less  time  than  it  takes 
to  tell  it,  the  tidings  spread  from  porch  to  hall  that  "something  was  up," 
and  other  people,  men  and  women,  old  officers  and  young,  matrons  and 
maids,  quit  tlieir  places  in  the  Lancers  and  came  streaming  forth  upon  the 
gallery.  "What's  the  matter?"— "  Is  it  fire?  I  heard  no  alarm."— "The 
trumpets  haven't  sounded." — "  See  !  there's  the  orderly  trumpeter  going 
across  the  parade  now,  running  to  the  office." — "Why,  the  office  is  lighted, 
too." — "  Where's  Warren  ?" — "  What  does  it  mean  ?"  These  and  dozens  of 
other  verbal  conjectures  and  suggestions  flew  from  lip  to  lip.  Men  excused 
themselves  to  their  fair  partners,  seized  their  caps,  scurried  away  down  the 
steps,  and  sped  over  towards  the  lights  at  head-quarters.  A  dozen  or  more 
suddenly  disappeared  in  this  way,  and  then  it  was  found  that  the  colonel 
and  Berrien  and  Hazlett  and  Thorpe  and  Brewster,  too,  were  all  missing. 
And  then  Mrs.  Thorpe's  voice  was  heard  wailing  out  upon  the  night  air  : 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Berrien!  Mrs.  Berrien  !  I  know  what  it  means.  I  saw  the 
telegraph  operator  coming  up  the  steps.    It's  orders, — orders  for  the  field." 

And  then  indeed 

There  was  hurrying  to  and  fro, 
And  gathering  tears,  and  tremblings  of  distress, 
And  cheelis  all  pale  which  but  an  hour  ago 
Blushed  at  the  praise  of  their  own  loveliness. 

And  the  dance  was  forgotten,  and  the  musicians,  astonished,  found  the 
lighted  hall  rapidly  emptying  of  the  revellers,  and  women  pressed,  pallid 
and  tearful,  into  the  dressing-room,  gathering  up  their  wraps  with  hasty 
hand  and  hurrying  forth  to  take  the  arm  of  husband  or  lover,  as  though 
claiming  that  right  to  the  very  last.  And  then  in  some  way  the  word  went 
round,  "Only  one  battalion  goes, — only  Berrien's  ;"  and  those  whose  lords 
were  attached  to  the  other  plucked  up  heart  and  spirit  for  a  moment,  and 
in  the  midst  of  it  all,  pale  but  tearless,  Mrs.  Berrien  stood  waiting  patiently 
for  Dick's  return,  and  by  her  side,  even  paler,  but  as  brave  and  tearless  and 
patient,  Winifred  clung  to  her  mother's  arm  and  would  take  no  other. 
Ridgeway,  who  had  scampered  over  to  the  office  among  the  dozen  departed, 
came  panting  back  up  the  stairway. 

"  Is  it  true?"  asked  Mrs.  Berrien. 

"  Yes  ;  the  first  battalion  goes  at  daybreak.  The  major  says  he  will  be 
over  in  a  few  moments." 

"Mrs.  Berrien,  permit  me  to  escort  you  home,"  said  Major  Kenyon, 
hastening  after  Ridgeway  up  the  stair.  "  I  have  just  seen  Berrien  :  he  has 
to  go  to  the  barracks  a  few  minutes." 

"  Miss  Winifred,  may  I  have  the  pleasure?  Mr.  Brewster  is,  of  course, 
needed  with  his  troop,  aiid  mine  does  not  go,"  said  Ridgeway,  proffering  his 
arm.  The  girl  hesitated  one  moment,  half  clinging  to  her  mother's  side, 
and  casting  one  swift,  appealing  glance  into  her  face. 

"Yes,  daughter,  we'll  go  home  at  once,"  was  the  low-toned  answer  as 
Mrs.  Berrien  took  old  Kenyon's  arm,  and  with  bowed  head  moved  towards 
the  stairs,  her  escort  eagerly,  volubly  explaining  to  her  that  he  felt  sure  the 
object  of  the  sudden  move  was  merely  to  overawe  the  Indians  by  a  display 
of  force.  "It  is  exactly  what  was  done  here  with  such  success  a  few 
years  ago,  Mrs.  Berrien.  The  Cheyennes  were  wild  for  an  outbreak,  and 
Sheridan  simply  called  in  troops  from  everywhere,  and  when  the  Indians 
saw  the  great  array  of  cavalry  and  infantry  they  caved  at  once.  Never  had 
to  fire  a  shot,  madam.  And'  that's  the  proper  way  to  handle  this  matter. 
That's  what  this  means.  The  Sioux  will  be  so  disheartened  they  won't  dare 
resist  even  if  orders  are  given  to  disarm  them.— God  forgive  me  the  lie!"  he 
muttered  under  his  breath. — "  Of  course  it's  exasperating  to  think  of  the 


A   SOLDIER'S  SECRET.  285 

Twelfth  being  sent  so  far  away  at  such  a  time,  but  better  now,  believe  me, 
than  later  after  those  misguided  wretches  had  had  a  chance  to  jump." 

But  Mrs.  Berrien  liad  lived,  heaven  only  knows  how,  through  many  a 
similar  experience.  Slie  had  seen  time  and  again  her  husband's  command 
hurried  forth  on  the  trail  or  across  the  path  of  savage  foe.  JSIever  yet  had 
they  returned  unscathed,  never  yet  without  serious  loss  of  oflflcers  and  men. 
She  could  only  bow  her  head  the  lower  while  her  lips  moved  in  silent 
prayer.  Just  as  they  reached  the  gate  a  tall  form  came  springing  after  them 
through  the  darkness,  and  Brewster's  voice  was  heard : 

"  I  hurried  back  to  the  hop-room,  Miss  Winifred,  only  to  find  you  gone. 
I  had  expected  to  escort  you  home.  You  have  heard  the  news  ?  You  know 
our  orders  have  come  ?"  He  glared  at  Ridgeway,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Leave, 
man  ;  you  are  one  too  many,  as  you  ought  to  see."  But  the  junior  lieu- 
tenant stoutly  held  his  ground,  nor  did  Winifred  withdraw  her  hand  from 
his  arm. 

"  I  have  heard  ;  yes,  it  seems  very  sudden,"  was  all  she  could  or  would 
say,  and  the  dark  eyes  were  shrouded  from  his  longing  gaze. 

"  We'll  be  off  by  daybreak,  I  fear.  I  cannot  hope  to  see  you  again 
before  we  have  to  go,"  he  went  on,  desperately. 

"Won't  you  come  in,  Mr.  Brewster?"  called  Mrs.  Berrien  from  the 
steps.  "You  and  Mr.  Ridgeway  can  spare  a  moment,  can  you  not?— Oh, 
Dick,  here  you  are !"  she  cried,  as  with  quick,  energetic  step  the  major 
sprang  across  the  road  and  appeared  under  the  dim  light  of  the  garrison 
lamp,  and  back  to  the  gate  she  sped  to  meet  him  and  to  twine  her  arm  in 
his. 

"  I'll  say  good-night,  ladies,"  said  Kenyon.  "  I'll  call  in  in  the  morn- 
ing to  see  if  I  can  be  of  any  service.  Now  I'must  trot  over  and  help  Holden 
to  pack."    And,  unrestrained,  he  went. 

"Brewster,  Ridgeway,  I  won't  ask  you  in  now.  You  have  much  to 
attend  to,  and  but  little  time.— Run  in,  Winifred,"  said  the  major. — "I'll 
be  witli  you  at  the  barracks  in  a  few  moments,  gentlemen." 

8lowly  but  obediently  Winifred  stepped  forward. 

"Good-night,  Mr.  Ridgeway,"  she  murmured,  holding  out  ner  little 
hand.     "  Thaulc  you  very  mucli." 

Berrien  stood  impatiently  at  the  gate,  as  though  to  see  her  safely  through. 
With  trembling  lips  Brewster  spoke  as  he  sprang  to  her  side. 

''  Good-by.  Don't  forget,"  was  all  he  could  murmur,  as  he  seized  her 
hand,  clinging  to  it  one  miserable  moment  witli  both  his  own. 

"Good-by,"  she  said,  in  low,  tremulous  tone,  but  withdrawing  her 
hand,  withholding  her  glance.  The  major  threw  his  arm  about  her  and 
almost  thrust  her  through  the  gate. 

"  It  is  good-night  only,  not  good-by,  Mr.  B:*ewster,"  said  Mrs.  Berrien, 
kindly,  forgetting  her  own  misery  for  the  moment  in  the  contemplation 
of  the  woe  in  his  face.  Then  they  hurried  within-doors,  Winifred  droop- 
ing before  them,  and  then  the  door  closed,  and  Brewster  and  Ridgeway 
stood  there  confronting  each  other  under  the  light.  For  a  moment  neither 
spoke. 

"Have  you  lost  your  crossed  sabres?"  said  Brewster,  finally,  noting 
that  the  handsome  cap-badge  of  solid  gold  which  Ridgeway  ordinarily  wore 
upon  the  front  of  his  forage-cap  was  now  missing. 

"  No  ;  I  took  it  oflE"  to  pin  Miss  Berrien's  wrap  about  her  throat." 

A  moment  more  Brewster  stood,  as  though  he  would  ask  another  ques- 
tion, then  abruptly  turned  and  plunged  into  the  darkness. 

Meantime,  Major  Kenyon  had  trudged  up  the  row  towards  Holden's 
quarters.  Already  the  lights  were  beginning  to  gleam  from  the  various 
houses  around  the  big  quadrangle  of  the  parade,  where  a  dozen  of  the  cav- 
alry officers  were  now  busily  engaged  in  preparation  for  the  sudden  move. 
Over  at  the  hospital,  too,  the  lamps  were  being  lighted  in  the  steward's 
room  and  the  dispensary.  Holden's  hall  door  stood  wide  open.  The  hall 
itself  was  dark,  but  a  lamp  was  alight  in  the  sitting-room,  and  that  door, 
too,  was  wide  open.  A  tall  form  passed  across  the  illumined  space  as 
Kenyon  drew  near.  He  stopped  for  a  moment  at  the  gate,  listening  to  the 
sound  of  bustle,  the  whistling  and  singing  of  the  men  at  the  barracks. 
"Hardship,  hunger,  privation,  suffering  ahead  of  them,  even  if  they  don't 
have  hard  fighting,"  he  muttered  to  himself.  "  In  thirty-six  hours  they'll 
be  freezing,  poor  devils,  for  not  a  man  in  the  battalion  has  a  winter  kit ; 


286  -^   SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

and  just  hear  them  laugh  and  sing  as  though  the  world  had  no  joy  like 
soldiering  !  God  guard  tliem, — and  tliese  poor  wives  and  sweethearts  here. 
Why  isn't  it  my  lot  to  go  instead  of  Berrien's  ?  Who  the  devil  would  shed 
a  tear  for  me?"  He  shook  himself  together  and  tramped  heavily  into  the 
gate  and  up  the  steps. 

"  Doc  !"  he  called  at  the  door-way.     "  Oh,  Doo  !" 

No  answer.     The  house  was  silent. 

"OhjHolden!  Where  are  you  ?"  Stillnoreply.  "  Odd,"  said  Kenyon  : 
"  I  thought  I  saw  him  in  here.  Who  could  that  have  been?"  With  the 
confidence  of  army  intimacj'  he  tramped  through  the  sitting-room  on  the 
left  of  the  hall,  then  into  the  dining-room  beyond.  No  one  there.  Then 
across  the  hall  again  and  into  Holdeu's  own  sleeping-room  at  the  rear  of 
the  house.  The  kerosene  lamp  was  burning  on  the  dressing-table.  The  bed 
had  been  occupied.  Evidently  Holden  had  turned  in  early,  only  to  be 
routed  out  by  the  orders  of  the  colonel.  The  floor  creaked  somev^here  over- 
head. Then  he  was  sure  he  heard  a  quick,  light  foot-fall  on  the  stair.  "  Oh, 
Doc !  Here  I  am.  It's  Kenyon,"  he  cried.  But  no  answer  came.  Onoe 
more  returning  to  the  hall,  and  thence  to  the  sitting-room,  he  found  them 
empty  as  before.  The  parlor  door  on  the  west  side  was  closed.  Slowly  he 
strolled  out  on  the  front  piazza,  just  in  time  to  catch  sight  of  a  tall  form  in 
the  dark  circular  cape  striding  up  to  the  gate.  Surely  that  was  Holden. 
Then  he  heard  a  hail : 

"  Hello,  Rolfe.     That  you  ?" 

"  Yes.    You  go  with  us,  do  you?" 

"  I  do.     Won't  you  come  in  ?" 

"  Not  just  now :  I've  got  to  go  to  my  quarters  a  moment.  I'll  be  in  by 
and  by.    We'll  have  to  make  a  night  of  it." 

"  All  right.  Kathleen  will  get  us  some  coffee  after  a  while.  Bring  in 
some  of  the  others  with  you."  Then  the  doctor  came  bounding  up  the 
steps.  "  Hello,  Kenyon.  You  here?  Well,  you  were  right  after  all,  weren't 
you?    I've  just  been  over  to  the  hospital  to  see  to  the  field-chests." 

"Weren't  you  in  here  just  now?"  asked  Kenyon. 

"  I  ?    No  !    Not  for  ten  minutes." 

"Well,  some  one  was  here, — up-stairs  and  down  both.  I  called  twice 
and  got  no  answer,  but  I  saw  a  man  and  heard  the  steps.  Thought  it  was 
you." 

"  Rolfe,  perhaps.  He  was  in  the  road  just  beyond  our  gate  as  I  came 
back  ;  but  I  thought  he  had  just  come  from  his  company  quarters." 

"If  it  had  been  Rolfe  he  would  have  answered,  I  should  think,"  said 
Kenyon.  "  Besides,  the  figure  and  the  footsteps  were  those  of  a  much 
lighter  man." 

"Queer!"  said  Holden,  his  thoughts  instantly  reverting  to  the  event 
of  the  week  before.     "  Did  you  see  him?" 

"  I  saw  a  figure  pass  across  the  light  streaming  from  the  sitting-room 
door.  Then  I  heard  the  step  up-stairs  while  I  stood  in  your  room,  and  then 
very  quick,  light  steps  on  the  stairs,— some  one  coming  down  like  a  streak, 
now  that  I  think  of  it." 

"  How  long  ago?" 

"  Not  more  than  a  minute  before  you  got  here." 

"  By  Jove,  I'm  going  to  look  into  this  !"  said  Holden,  quickly.  "  Of 
course  you've  heard  of  the  excitement  we  had  here.  Bring  that  candle, 
will  you?  I'll  take  the  lamp."  Up  the  stairs  they  went,— up  to  the  land- 
ing where  Nita  Guthrie  had  her  mysterious  fright  and  fall.  The  door  of 
the  room  she  occupied  was  open.  All  was  darkness  within.  Holden,  fol- 
lowed by  Kenyon,  entered,  and  they  set  their  lights  upon  a  table.  The  side 
window  was  shut  and  barred,  the  south  windows  as  firmly  closed.  Every- 
thing looked  neat  and  undisturbed,  but  cold  and  deserted.  No  sign  of  an 
intruder,  for  a  moment,  to  the  eyes  of  either  man.  Then  of  a  sudden  Hol- 
den made  a  spring  for  the  toilet  table,  seized  a  small  silver  frame,  and  stood 
glaring  at  it. 

"  Bv  Jove  !  look  here  !" 

"What's  the  matter?"  asked  Kenyon. 

"Don't  you  see?"  was  the  answer,  as  the  doctor  held  the  face  of  the 
frame  towards  him,  empty  and  gaping.  "  Nita  Guthrie's  photograph  was 
in  this  frame  and  on  that  table  just  before  the  hop  began  when  I  was  up 
here  ;  and  where  is  it  now?" 


A   SOLDIER'S  SECRET.  287 

VI. 

Pallid  and  wan  the  first  faint  gleam  of  the  coming  day  was  stealing 
slowly  into  the  eastern  skies.  Far  away  down  the  broad  valley  the  mist 
was  creeping  from  the  slow-moving,  silent  stream.  Peace  and  slumber  and 
solitude  hovered  over  the  wide  acres  where  the  tasselled  corn  had  waved  in 
the  summer  breeze  and  the  bearded  rye  and  bristling  wheat  had  ripened 
and  bleached  under  the  fervid  touch  of  the  sumn^er  sun.  In  the  barn-yards 
and  sheds  the  cattle  still  crouched,  drowsing  and  huddling  for  warmth.  In 
the  orchards  and  among  the  maples  and  beeches  the  bluebirds  and  jays  and 
belated  robins  still  perched  among  the  autumn  leaves,  their  heads  tucked 
away  under  sheltering  wings.  Under  dew-laden  hedge-rows  the  mother 
bird  nestled  her  little  brown  brood,  and  Bob  White  still  dozed  away  the 
dark  hour  that  precedes  the  dawn.  All  over  the  placid,  populous  valley 
without  the  reservation  lines,  the  wings  of  night  were  spread.  All  through 
the  streets  of  the  thriving  county  town  only  the  tread  of  the  watchman 
waked  the  echoes,  only  the  glimmer  of  his  lamp  was  seen.  The  waning 
moon,  a  dim,  mist-bedraggled  crescent,  had  peeped  up  over  the  shadowy 
forest  down  the  eastward  valley  and  climbed  slowly'  towards  a  sheltering 
bank  of  cloud  and  there  had  seemed  to  halt  and  hide.  Puffing  and  panting, 
a  long,  long  train  had  wound  under  the  wooded  bluffs  and  was  hissing  at 
the  station  platform  at  the  foot  of  the  curving  road  that  led  to  the  broad 
plateau  of  the  fort.  And  now  lights  Avere  dancing  and  gleaming  every- 
where along  the  train  ;  men  in  cavalry  overcoats  and  top-boots  were  busily, 
rapidly,  silently  leading  horse  after  horse  up  the  wooden  ramps  or  chutes 
and  into  the  dark  depths  of  the  cattle-cars.  Many  a  trooper  stopped  a  mo- 
ment after  lashing  his  halter-strap  to  the  rail  and  murmured  a  few  caressing, 
reassuring  words  to  his  wondering  charger,  patting  him  on  neck  or  shoulder 
and  striving  to  explain  to  him  how  it  happened  that  he  was  stirred  out 
from  his  warm  stable  at  this  unseemly  hour  and  marched  into  a  prison-pen 
on  wheels  behind  those  black,  hissing  monsters  up  ahead.  Silence  and 
order  and  discipline  prevailed.  Only  when  some  excitable,  nervous  steed 
balked  and  refused  to  climb  the  chute,  was  there  unusual  sound.  Tlien  the 
sharp  crack  of  the  stable  sergeant's  whip  and  a  stern  "  Hup  there  !"  brought 
the  brute  to  his  senses,  and  he  plunged  along  up  the  wooden  ramp,  his  iron- 
shod  hoofs  tliundering  on  the  boards,  his  trooper's  arms  nearly  wrenched 
from  their  sockets.  The  division  superintendent  had  been  better  than  his 
word,  for  it  was  only  four  o'clock  when  the  train  came  hissing  in,  and  in 
ten  minutes,  in  long  ghostly  jjrocession,  Rolfe's  men  were  leading  their 
chargers,  curveting  and  pi'ancing  in  the  keen  air,  down  the  winding  road 
to  the  valley,  the  quartermaster's  wagons  following  with  chest  and  box  and 
bale  and  bundles  of  tentage  and  camp  equipage.  In  fifteen  minutes  more 
the  word  went  up  to  send  down  the  next  troop,  and  the  train  pulled  for- 
ward four  car-lengths,  so  as  to  bring  the  next  lot  of  horse-cars  opposite  the 
platform  and  chutes,  while  Thorpe's  handsome  sorrels  were  led  wondering 
from  the  dimly-lighted  gangway  ;  and  so,  by  a  few  minutes  after  five,  even 
the  officers'  chargers  and  the  spare  horses  of  the  first  battalion  were  all 
aboard,  and  somewhere  across  the  stream,  just  as  the  major  acknowledged 
the  report  "All  aboard  and  secure,  sir,"  in  Hazlett's  soldierly  tones,  a 
sprightly  chanticleer,  whose  ears  had  at  last  caught  those  muffied  sounds 
of  hoof  and  voice  over  under  the  garrison  bluffs,  concluded  it  time  to  chal- 
lenge, and  woke  the  echoes  with  shrill  cock-a-doodle-doo,  whereat  there 
came  a  low  chuckle  of  delight  from  Hazlett's  men. 

"  Very  good,  sir.    Now  get  aboard  all  your  baggage  as  quick  as  you  can." 

"All  aboard  now,  sir." 

"  Then  march  up  to  quarters  for  coffee  and  breakfast, — the  others  are  at 
theirs  now, — and  form  under  arms  right  afterwards." 

Precious  little  sleep  has  there  been  this  night, — no  time  among  the  men, 
no  inclination  among  the  women.  Wives  and  daughters  who  had  devoutly 
thanked  heaven  that  only  the  first  battalion  was  to  go  were  soon  undeceived, 
and  found  that  but  ten  hours'  respite  was  to  be  theirs.  All  the  night  long 
the  note  of  preparation  could  be  heard  in  barracks  and  in  quarters.  The 
colonel,  with  his  adjutant  and  quartermaster,  hardly  left  the  office  at  all. 
Berrien  bustled  from  barracks  to  his  home,  from  there  to  stables.  At  two 
o'clock,  finding  all  his  own  campaigning-kit  in  perfect  readiness,  and  Wini- 
fred and  her  mother  still  huddling  over  the  parlor  fire,  he  noted  the  pallor 


288  ^   SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

in  his  daughter's  face,  the  deep  trouble  in  her  pathetic  eyes,  and,  taking  her 
in  his  arms,  he  kissed  her  fondly  again  and  again. 

"Go  to  your  room  now,  little  daughter,"  he  said,  huskily:  "go,  dear, 
and  try  to  sleep.  I  will  not  leave  without  coming  to  say  bye-bye,  just 
as  I  always  did."  She  shivered  and  hid  her  face  and  clung  to  his  neck, 
saying  no  word,  shedding  no  tear.  Gently  he  unclasped  her  hands.  "Yes, 
my  child,  do  as  T  bid  you  now  :  I  want  to  speak  with  mother  awhile."  And 
then  reluctantly  she  turned,  but  the  one  brief  look  into  his  eyes  was  so  full  of 
wordless  sorrow  that  he  was  for  an  instant  unmanned.  "  My  little  girl  !  my 
little  Winnie  !  don't  look  at  your  old  daddy  that  way  !"  he  almost  sobbed, 
as  again  he  threw  his  arm  around  her,  leading  her  to  the  stairs.  "  We 
won't  be  gone  long.  We're  all  coming  back,  dear  ;  and  Ave'll  have  a  lovely 
Christmas,  and  you  shall  have  the  jolliest  kind  of  a  party,  pet.  But  be  a 
brave  little  woman  now.  It — it'll  all  come  right."  Siie  turned  with  quick 
convulsive  sob  and  threw  herself  upon  his  bi'east,  again  twining  her  soft 
arms  about  his  neck,  her  beautiful  dark  hair  streaming  in  rippling,  shim- 
mering masses  down  over  the  creamy  white  wrapper.  The  burst  of  tears 
would  have  been  a  blessed  relief,  but  it  never  came.  A  quick,  soldierly 
tread  was  heard  on  the  plank  walk  without,  and  then  springing  up  the 
steps.  Even  before  the  rat-tat-tat  at  the  door  she  had  torn  herself  from  his 
arms,  and  sped  like  startled  fawn  up  the  carpeted  stair. 

"  It  is  Mr.  Brewster,"  said  Mrs.  Berrien,  in  low  tone,  quickly.  Berrien 
threw  open  the  door.  "Anything  for  a  pretext  to  come  here  again,"  he 
muttered  angrily  to  himself,  as  he  confronted  the  unwelcome  intruder.  It 
was  Brewster. 

"  Major  Berrien,  the  colonel's  compliments,  and  he  desires  you  to  know 
that  the  train  will  be  here  at  four  instead  of  five."  And  Brewster's  eyes 
glanced  but  an  instant  into  those  of  his  superior,  and  then  went  wandering 
longingly  over  his  shoulder. 

" I  had  already  heard  it,  sir.    You  have  everything  ready?" 

"I  beg  pardon,  then,  for  disturbing  you,  major.  I  have  just  left  the 
colonel,  and  he  thought  you  might  not  have  heard.  Yes,  sir,  everything 
will  be  ready,  though  the  rations  are  not  yet  cooked." 

"  Then  be  ready  to  get  your  horses  aboard  the  moment  F  has  finished 
loading.  Anything  else,  Mr.  Brewster?"  Poor  fellow,  there  was  something 
else, — something  that  filled  heart  and  soul  and  dominated  every  thought. 
Gazing  wistfully  up  the  stairs,  his  sad  ej'es  had  caught  one  glimpse  of  that 
white,  fleeting  form,  one  glimpse  of  the  lovely  pallid  face  all  framed  in  dark, 
falling  tresses,  as,  clinging  to  the  balustrade,  Winifred  turned,  unable  to 
resist  the  longing  to  hear  what  he  might  have  to  say. 

"Nothing — nothing  more,  I  believe,  sir."  And,  mechanically  raising 
his  hand  in  salute,  poor  Curly  turned  away,  the  door  promptly  closing  be- 
hind him. 

Berrien  came  back  into  the  parlor  clinching  his  fists,  speechless  indig- 
nation in  his  face.  Mrs.  Berrien  saw  the  unmistakable  signs,  and,  though 
in  her  heart  she  felt  full  of  sympathy  for  Brewster,  she  knew  it  best  to  say 
nothing  now. 

"  If  I  thought  it  as  you  said,"  he  hoarsely  spoke  at  last, — "if  I  thought 
that  fellow  had  been  trifling  with  Winnie  while  all  the  time  carrying  on 

this Faugh  !  it  makes  me  feel  as  though  I  could  throttle  him  !"     And 

Berrien  strode  up  and  down  the  cosey  room,  beating  one  brawn3'  fist  into 
the  palm  of  the  other  hand. 

"  But,  Richard  dear,  why  do  you  think  there  has  been  anything  serious 
between  him  and  this — this  woman  ?  I  think  she  deliberately  assumed  that 
manner  at  the  hop  to-night.  I  think  she  called  him  '  Carroll'  solely  for 
Winifred's  benefit  and  mine.     I  saw  how  astonished  and  annoyed  he  was." 

But  Berrien  held  up  a  warning  hand.  "She  came  down  the  stairs 
weeping  and  he  striving  to  soothe  her.  She  was  sobbing  aloud  when  he  put 
her  in  the  carriage.  Rolfe  and  I  both  saw  and  heard.  Don't  tell  me  there 
wasn't  anything  between  them.  Very  possibl.y  he  does  want  to  make  up  to 
Winifred  now,  but,  damn  him  !  he  shan't.  I  won't  have  her  degraded  by 
any  such  otfer,  if  I  have  to  send  her  and  you  to  Europe  to  get  her  away  from 
him.  It  is  no  imagination,  Bess  :  I  tell  you  I  know.  Why,  only  this  morn- 
ing she  sent  him  a  new  picture  of  herself;  and  as  for  calling  him  Carroll 
for  our  benefit,  that's  what  she  calls  him  in  her  letters,  and  I  can  prove  it." 

"How,  Dick?" 


A   SOLDIER'S  SECRET.  289 

"  Eolfe  saw  it, — saw  it  this  very  morning." 

"  Captain  Rolfe  !    Wliy,  liow  came  he  to  see  her  letter  to  him?" 

"  Well,  it  was  lying  open  on  his  desk  :  he  could  not  help  seeing." 

"Why,  Dick,  I  cannot  understand  Captain  Rolfe's  looking  at  or  read- 
ing other  people's  letters,  and " 

"  It  was  an  accident,  I  tell  you." 

"Ah,  but  it  was  no  accident  his  telling  of  it,  Dick.  Nothing  on  earth 
should  have  induced  him  to  refer  to  it,  if,  as  he  claims,  he  saw  it  by  acci- 
dent.   I  did  not  suppose  Rolfe  would  do  such  a  thing." 

"Well,  he  couldn't  help  himself.     I  dragged  it  out  of  him,  I  suppose." 

Another  step,  another  rap  at  the  door,  and,  casting  one  glance  aloft, 
Berrien,  to  his  dismay,  again  caught  sight  of  Winifred's  pale  face  peering 
over  the  balustrade.     The  child  could  not,  would  not  rest. 

"What's  wanted?"  he  curtly  asked,  as  he  threw  open  the  door. 

"  It  is  Sergeant  Ellis,  sir,"  said  a  deep  voice.  "  I  have  come  to  beg  the 
major  to  intercede  for  me.  My  troop  goes  with*  the  major's  battalion,  and 
I  begged  to  be  relieved  and  allowed  to  go  ;  but  the  quartermaster  says  I 
must  stay  until  some  sergeant  can  be  found  who  is  competent  to  take  charge, 
— some  one  in  the  infantry  battalion.  That  may  require  two  or  three  days, 
sir,  and  I  am  fearful  that  once  the  command  gets  away  there  will  be  no  ob- 
taining orders  to  follow  it.    Besides,  sir,  there  is  my  horse." 

"  You  belong  to  the  black  troop  ?" 

"Yes,  sir,  and  I  think  that  if  the  major  would  but  speak  to  Major 
Kenyon  at  once  he  could  name  a  sergeant  who  would  take  my  place  here  at 
the  lire-house.  Almost  any  man  can  do  it,  sir  ;  only  there  is  no  time  to  be 
lost.    Major  Kenyon  is  at  the  doctor's  now." 

"Dr.  Holden's?" 

"Yes,  sir,  and  Captain  Rolfe  has  just  joined  him  there." 

"  Have  you  spoken  to  Lieutenant  Brewster  ?  He  commands  your  troop, 
as  you  know,  now  that  the  captain's  away." 

"  I  have,  sir,  but  it  was  at  the  office,  and  the  quartermaster  spoke  up  at 
once,  so  that  Lieutenant  Brewster  could  do  nothing." 

Berrien  turned  back  into  the  parlor.  "  Bess,  dear,  I  must  run  over  to 
Holden's  a  moment.  Will  you  not  go  up  to  Winifred?  She  is  not  lying 
down  at  all." 

Followed  by  the  sergeant,  Berrien  entered  Holden's  gate  and  gave  a 
whack  at  the  open  hall  door  as  he  passed  in.  "Rolfe's  voice  was  the  first 
thing  he  heard.     It  was  tremulous  with  excitement. 

"If  Colonel  Farquhar  will  but  give  me  authority  to  search  one  room 
in  this  post,  I  will  guarantee  that  I  can  find  that  picture  and  name  the 
thief "  He  broke  off  short  at  sight  of  Berrien.  Holden  rose,  hos- 
pitably urging  the  major  to  join  them  in  a  cup  of  coffee,  but  Berrien  pro- 
ceeded at  once  to  business. 

"  Major  Kenyon,  a  sergeant  of  my  battalion  is  in  charge  of  the  fire- 
apparatus  here,  but  is  most  anxious  to  go  with  us.  He  says  it  will  be  al- 
lowed if  you  can  name  one  of  your  men — a  non-commissioned  officer — to 
take  his  place  at  once.    You  will  do  me  a  very  great  favor  if  you  will." 

"Certainly  I  can,  '  answered  Kenyon,  stoutly.  "Is  your  man  there? 
Call  him  in.  Sergeant  Griggs,  of  B  company,  will  be  just  the  man,  and  I 
know  his  company  commander  will  make  no  objection." 

"Come  in  here,  sergeant,"  called  Berrien,  and,  cap  in  hand,  the  dark- 
eyed,  dark-haired  trooper,  on  whose  lip  the  moustache  was  again  beginning 
to  bristle,  stood  silently  before  them. 

"  Ai'e  you  well  enough  to  go,  my  man?"  spoke  up  Holden  on  the  in- 
stant.    "You  look  very  pale,  if  not  ill." 

"I  am  perfectly  well,  doctor,  and  I  am  eager  to  go.  I  suppose  I'm  a 
little  cold  and  excited." 

"  Then  give  my  compliments  to  the  quartermaster  at  once  and  say  Ser- 
geant Griggs,  of  the  infantry,  will  take  your  duty,"  said  Kenyon,  quietly. 

Ellis  muttered,  "Thank  you,  sir,"  faced  about,  and  hurried  from  the  room. 

"Was  that  man  in  the  hall  when  I  was  talking  and  you  came  in?" 
asked  Rolfe,  in  his  quick,  decided  way. 

"I  don't  know,"  answered  Berrien,  surprised.  "  I  think  he  followed 
me  up  the  steps  and  was  standing  at  the  door." 

"  Why  do  you  ask,  Rolfe?"  queried  Holden,  closely  studying  his  face. 

"  Because,  if  he  was,  the  search  I  spoke  of  would  now  be  useless." 
Vol,  XLIX.— 19 


290  ^   SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

VII. 

Daylight  at  last,  but  the  sun  is  hidden  in  banks  of  dripping  mist.  Day- 
light, wan  and  chill  and  comfortless,  and  the  bleary  lamps  still  smoke  and 
flicker  about  the  parade.  Daylight,  yet  without  one  spark  of  gladness. 
Even  the  birds  huddle  in  the  shelter  of  the  autumn  foliage,  now  so  crisp 
an.d  brown,  and  not  so  much  as  a  chirp  is  heard.  All  around  the  big  quad- 
rangle night-lamps  are  still  aglow  within  the  shaded  windows,  telling  of 
sleepless  vigil,  of  pallid  cheeks  and  tear-dimmed  eyes.  Only  in  the  barracks 
of  the  men  or  the  lively  dens  of  the  bachelor  subaltei'ns  do  the  windows 
blaze,  uncurtained,  undismayed.  There  no  silently-weeping  wives,  no 
clinging,  sobbing  little  ones,  crying  "because  mamma  cries,"  yet  little 
dreaming  for  wliat  cause,  no  thought  of  "What  will  come  to  these  should 
I  never  return?"  daunt  the  spirit  of  the  soldier.  There  all  voices  are  ring- 
ing with  eagerness,  even  exultation,  as  the  men  brace  on  their  Avoven  car- 
tridge-belts and  toss  over  their  brawny  shoulders  carbine-slings  and  the 
straps  of  canteen  and  haversack,  and  then  come  streaming  forth  upon  the 
galleries,  muffled  to  the  chin  in  the  blue  cavalry  overcoats.  Out  on  the 
parade  the  trumpeters  are  gathered  under  the  moist  folds  of  the  flag,  await- 
ing the  signal  to  sound  "  assembly  ;"  and  now  the  band  comes  marching  in 
through  the  morning  mist,  and  the  adjutant  strides  forth  from  the  office 
door.  Merrily,  briskly  the  stirring  peal  bursts  from  the  bells  of  the  brazen 
trumpets.  Promptly  the  blue  overcoats  leap  into  ranks.  Sharply  they  face 
to  the  left,  and  the  stern  voices  of  the  sergeants  can  be  heard  calling  the 
rolls, — the  "  here,"  "  here,"  of  the  men  responding  in  animation  and  hilarity 
sometimes  so  marked  as  to  call  forth  a  frown  of  rebuke.  The  troop  com- 
manders and  their  sulpalterns  have  hastened  to  their  company  grounds.  The 
major  has  just  come  forth  from  his  dimly-lighted  hall  and  is  joined  by  the 
colonel  at  the  gate,  and  now,  iilowly,  these  two  are  pacing  out  to  the  parade. 
On  many  of  the  verandas  dim  feminine  forms,  mantled  in  heavy  shawl  or 
cloak,  have  gathered  in  the  gloom.  Some  can  be  seen  flitting  ghost-like 
through  the  mist,  seeking  comfort  and  sympathy  in  the  society  of  a  near 
neighbor  equally  bereaved.  Brewster  turnS  one  longing  glance  at  the  porch 
of  the  major's  quarters,  but  no  one  is  there.  Again,  quick  and  spirited  as 
though  defying  the  elements,  the  trumpets  peal  the  adjutant's  call ;  the 
band  bursts  into  the  martial  rhythm  of  lively  quickstep,  and  then  the  drip- 
ping, moisture-laden  morning  air  rings  with  the  words  of  command,  as,  in 
full  ranks,  the  four  troops  come  swinging  out  upon  the  turf  and  all  the 
roadway  around  the  parade  tills  up  with  other  light  blue  overcoats,  those 
of  troopers  and  footmen  who  wish  with  all  their  hearts  it  was  their  turn  to 
go,  that  they,  too,  belonged  to  the  first  battalion.  In  a  moment  the  line  is 
formed  ;  the  carbines  snap  into  the  bared  left  hands  as  arms  are  presented  ; 
Berrien  leaves  the  colonel's  side  and  takes  post  in  front  of  the  centre, 
touches  his  cap  in  acknowledgment  of  the  salute,  and  whips  out  his  own 
battle-worn  blade,  t^o  speech-making  here.  "  Right  forward,  fours  right !" 
rings  the  order,  and  then,  arms  at  right  shoulder,  band  and  trumpeters 
leading,  Berrien's  men,  with  quick,  elastic  step,  with  swing  and  life  and 
jauntiness  in  every  stride,  march  square  away  across  the  parade,  heading 
for  the  road  in  front  of  Farquhar's  quarters.  The  trumpets  strike  up  their 
merry,  lively  peal.  With  one  simultaneous  crash  the  carbines  are  brought  to 
the  carry,  and  Berrien  lowers  his  sabre  in  salute  to  the  gray-haired  colonel, 
whose  eyes  fill  and  who  bares  for  the  moment  his  handsome  head  as  he  notes 
the  spirited  bearing  of  the  men.  And  now  the  head  of  column  has  reached 
the  road  and  turns  to  the  left ;  and  now  the  trumpets  cease  and  the  full 
band  bursts  into  martial  song,  and  all  along  the  row  women  are  waving 
handkerchiefs  w^et  with  tears,  even  though  many  are  sobbing  as  though 
their  hearts  would  break,  and  little  children  are  perched  on  the  gallery 
railings,  shouting  in  shrill  treble  their  good-by  to  papa,  who  turns  one  brief 
glance,  perhaps  the  very  last  on  earth,  and  a  big  lump  rises  in  many  a  husky 
throat,  and  stern  eyes  are  dimmed  with  unwonted  tears,  and  God  alone 
knows  the  secret  thoughts  that  go  surging  throueh  the  soldier  brain,  the 
never-ceasing  whisper  of  that  still,  small  voice,  "  What — what  will  be  their 
fate  if  I  am  taken?"  God  alone  can  hear,  God  alone  can  know  the  humil- 
ity, the  piteous  pleading,  in  the  muttered  prayer  that  floats  to  Him  on  high, 
"Oh,  guard  and  protect  them,  and,  if  it  be  thy  will,  in  thy  good  time  re- 
store the  father  to  his  helpless  little  ones."    Ah,  it  is  one  thing  to  go  forth 


A   SOLDIER'S  SECRET.  291 

to  fight  for  an  imperilled  country,  for  an  insulted  flag,  to  stake  life  and  for- 
tune and  hope  to  guard  the  beloved  ones  at  the  fireside,  and  to  feel  that  one 
is  battling  for  them,  for  their  honor,  peace,  and  future  prosi^erity.  But  it 
is  a  thing  far  different  to  be  torn  from  loving  arms  and  the  smiles  and  sun- 
shine in  the  little  faces,  the  prattling  and  kisses  of  baby  lips,  to  face  year 
after  year  a  savage  foe,  knowing  full  well  that,  defeated,  only  death  can  be 
the  soldier's  fortune,  that,  victorious,  the  only  reward  will  be  permission  to 
slink  back  to  the  station  whence  one  came.  It  is  the  conquered  Indian  who 
rides  in  triumph  to  the  nation's  capital  and  learns  how  great  and  good  a 
thing  it  is  to  take  the  war-path  every  other  year.  It  is  all  well  enough  for 
the  young  oflBcers,  the  young  troopers,  to  laugh  and  cheer.  It  is  the  husband 
and  father  among  the  seniors,  the  old  campaigner  in  the  rank  and  tile, — men 
who  have  been  through  many  and  many  a  bloody  fight  witliin  some  twenty 
years  of  national  peace  and  prosperity, — men  who  have  seen  dozens,  hun- 
dreds, of  their  cherished  cojiirades  slaughtered  in  battle  with  the  Sioux, — 
it  is  tbey  who  see  the  other  side  of  the  picture,  and  ask,  "  To  what  purpose? 
To  what  end?"  Outbreak  has  followed  outbreak,  campaign  has  succeeded 
campaign,  each  marked  by  bitter  losses  in  many  a  regiment,  each  swelling 
the  list  of  the  widowed  and  the  fatherless,  each  terminated  by  the  final 
surrender  of  hostile  bands  satiated  with  tlie  summer's  slaughter  and  shrewd 
enough  to  know  that  they  have  only  to  wave  the  white  rag  of  submission 
to  be  restored  to  public  confidence  and  double  rations.  Step  aside  now, 
gentlemen  of  the  army,  bury  your  dead,  patch  up  your  wounds,  go  back  to 
your  stations,  and  get  ready  for  another  shindy  in  the  spring.  You  have 
had  your  annual  outing,  the  Indian  only  his  first  innings.  Now  comes  his 
second.  Now  the  Bureau  takes  hold,  and  away  go  the  prominent  leaders 
of  the  red  revolt  in  the  annual  pilgrimage,  the  annual  starring  tour  tlirough 
the  East,  and  the  sentimentalists  swarm  to  meet  them,  and  wlieresoever 
they  stop  hosts  of  our  fellow-citizens  throng  to  smile  upon  them,  eager  to 
clasp  and  shake  the  hands  that,  less  than  a  month  ago,  were  reeking  with 
the  blood  of  mutilated  soldiery  for  whom  desolate  women  and  bereaved 
little  ones  are  wailing  hopelessly  to-day.  Vcc  victw  !  Go  on  in  your  tri- 
umphal circuit,  red  brothers  Rain-in-the-Face,  Thunder-Bear,  Blizzard 
Hawk.  Rejoice  in  the  sunshine  of  your  prosperity  ;  go  bade  to  your  new 
lodges  and  unload  your  chests  of  plunder,  the  free-will  offerings  of  your 
pale-faced  kindred.  The  war  has  made  you  rich.  Your  squaws  and  chil- 
dren revel  in  food  and  finery  galore  ;  and  should  supplies  begin  to  slacken 
up  a  little  with  the  coming  of  another  spring,  shoot  your  agent,  carry  off 
his  wife  and  daughters,  and  start  in  for  another  summer  of  fun.  As  for 
you,  weeping  widow  and  children- of  Captain  Something, — I've  forgotten 
his  name, — shot  from  ambush  by  the  Sioux  last  fall,  get  back  to  the  East  as 
best  you  can,  dry  your  tears,  and  be  happy  on  twenty  dollars  a  month.  It's 
what  one  must  expect  in  marrying  into  the  army. 

And  now  the  last  of  the  blue  column  has  passed  through  the  western 
gate,  and  a  throng  of  comrades  surges  after,  every  man  in  the  garrison,  not 
otherwise  on  duty,  trudging  down  through  the  mist  and  mud  to  see  Ber- 
rien's battalion  to  the  waiting  train.  The  guard  springs  to  arms  and  falls 
in  line,— the  guard  whom  Brewster  was  to  have  relieved  at  eight  a.m., — 
and  again  the  major  lowers  his  sabre  in  acknowledgment  of  their  salute, 
and  so,  down  the  winding  road,  tramp,  tramp,  steadily,  cheerily,  even  joy- 
ously, they  go,  and  the  broad  parade  above  is  silent  and  deserted.  Women 
are  sobbing  in  one  another's  arms,  and  Mrs.  Berrien,  seated  at  an  upper 
window  looking  out  to  the  west,  is  stroking  Winifred's  glossy,  rippling 
tresses, — Winifred,  who,  kneeling,  has  buried  her  tear-stained  face  in  her 
mother's  lap.  Fainter  and  fainter  the  martial  strains  come  fioating  up  from 
the  wooded  valley.    The  band  is  playing  another  quickstep  now,  its  prelude 

full  of  vim  and  life  and  spirit,  and  then What  strange  inspiration  has 

possessed  the  leader  ?  Listen  !  listen  !  Winifred  raises  her  head  and  looks 
one  instant  with  dilated  eyes  into  her  mother's  pallid,  quivering  face  ;  then, 
covering  her  ears  with  her  slender  hands,  burrowing  again  into  her  mother's 
lap,  she  bursts  into  a  passion  of  tears.  Listen  !  Sweet,  soft,  sad,  the  beau- 
tiful notes  of  the  thrice  beautiful  old  song  are  wafted  up  on  the  gentle 
breeze.  God !  to  how  many  a  breaking  heart,  how  many  a  world-worn, 
weary,  yearning  soul,  has  it  not  spoken  ! — 

Love  not,  love  not,  ye  hapless  sons  of  clay. 


292  ^   SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

It  is  too  much  for  Mrs.  Berrien.  Brave,  self-controlled,  uncomplaining  as 
she  has  been  through  it  all,  this  is  test  beyond  her  strength.  Down 
comes  the  window  with  sudden  clash,  and  then,  drawing  her  daughter  to 
her  breast,  clasping  her  in  her  loving,  sheltering  arms,  the  mother  heart 
gives  way,  the  sorrowing  wife  bows  her  head,  and,  rocking  to  and  fro  in 
wordless  grief,  mingles  her  tears  with  those  of  her  beloved  child. 

Cheer  upon  cheer  comes  swelling  on  the  morning  air.  Cheer  follows 
cheer  as  Berrien's  men  return  the  soul-stirring,  soldierly  good-by.  Guidons 
wave  from  the  thronging  platforms.  Bronzed  faces  peer  from  every  win- 
dow. Hats  and  forage-caps  are  tossing  on  high.  Men  rush  alongside  the 
slowly-starting  train  for  one  last  hand-clasp  of  the  departing  comrades. 
The  echoes  ring  to  the  rollicking  notes  of  their  old  charging,  lighting  tune. 
The  trumpets  answer  from  the  crowded  cars.  The  sun  bursts  through  the 
eddying  mist  and  streams  in  glorious  radiance  upon  the  scene.  All  here  at 
the  station  throbs  with  soldier  song  and  spirit  and  enthusiasm  ;  but  above — 
above,  where  in  mournful  premonition  one  poor  army  wife  is  weeping  over 
three  little  curly  heads  pillowed  in  her  straining  arms,  there  comes  no 
sound  of  soldier  triumph,  no  echo  of  soldier  song.  Sunshine  and  stirring 
music  follow  the  swiftly-speeding  train,  but  all  is  dark  and  desolate  now 
where  gladness  reigned  but  a  day  gone  by. 


VIII. 

Letters  from  the  front !  "What  joy  and  comfort  they  bring  ! — for  every 
writer  seems  bent  on  convincing  the  anxious  ones  at  home  that  there  is  no 
danger  and  little  discomfort,  after  all.  Telegrams  and  brief  notes  have  been 
raining  in  ever  since  the  departure  of  the  regiment,  but  now  the  two  bat- 
talions are  reunited  under  Farquhar's  command  ;  they  have  got  shaken  down 
into  a  species  of  winter  cantonment  with  a  goodly  number  of  comrade  troops 
and  troopers  from  the  threatened  department.  The  weather  has  not  been 
.unusually  severe  thus  far.  Men  and  horses  stood  the  trip  admirably,  and 
nobody  growled  at  stiffened  fingers  and  red  noses  and  benumbed  feet  as  they 
rode  in  long  column  from  the  railway  to  the  agency,  and,  now  that  fuel  has 
been  lugged  up  in  abundance  and  fur  caps  and  "  blizzard  coats"  are  coming 
and  the  Indians  hovering  about  the  camps  seem  deeply  impressed  with  the 
numbers  and  readiness  of  the  white  soldiers  and  all  promises  well,  the  letters 
grow  longer  and  more  frequent. 

"  We  are  doing  first-rate,  Bess  dear,"  wrote  Berrien,  "  and  all  are  hope- 
ful that  with  the  surrounding  of  the  big  band  of  hostiles  in  the  Bad  River 
Valley  the  most  uncertain  feature  of  the  business  is  at  an  end.  If  they  can 
be  quietly  herded  in  to  the  reservation  and  induced  to  give  up  all  their  arms 
and  ponies,  there  will  be  no  further  trouble.  The  health  and  spirit  of  the 
regiment  is  excellent,  and,  while  I  hope  no  emergency  will  arise,  I  can  bet 
that  if  there  should  be  a  shindy  the  Twelfth  will  give  good  account  of  itself. 
Farquhar  keeps  us  on  the  alert,  and  there  is  no  rusting.  Gorham  has  joined 
from  leave  :  so  that  Brewster,  to  his  infinite  disgust  I  doubt  not,  has  had  to 
fall  back  to  second  place.  He  and  Rolfe  are  about  the  only  gloomy  spirits 
in  the  command,  and  of  Brewster  I  see  very  little.  Ever  since  the  episode 
of  which  I  told  you  and  her  most  significant  appearance  at  the  d6p6t  in 
town  while  we  were  being  switched  to  the  north-bound  track  I  have  not 
felt  like  having  anything  to  do  with  him.  How  do  you  suppose  she  heard 
of  our  move,  since  she  left  the  hop  before  any  one  knew  of  it?  There  were 
a  few  other  ladies  there,  I  admit,  for  they  were  still  with  us  when  the  orders 
came,  and  it  had  cleared  by  the  time  we  reached  the  d6p6t.  She,  however, 
seemed  to  hang  on  to  him,  and  nobody  else,  to  the  very  last.  I  am  distressed 
at  wliat  you  tell  me  about  Winifred,  and  the  more  I  think  of  it  the  more  I 
am  disposed  to  urge  your  instant  acceptance  of  Miss  Gutlirie's  invitation. 
It  will  be  the  very  best  antidote  I  know  of,— a  few  weeks  in  St.  Louis  society, 
— if  she  has  indeed,  as  you  fear,  become  interested  in  him.  Go  by  all  means  ; 
it  will  do  you  good, — do  Winifred  a  world  of  good  (get  her  some'new  gowns, 
and  lake  in  all  the  parties  and  all  the  gayety  you  possibly  can) ;  and  it  will 
be  a  good  thing  for  Miss  Guthrie,  too. 

"Now,  this  is  strictly  entre  nous.  Holden  is  worried  about  her,  and  in 
course  of  a  long  talk  we  had  last  night  he  showed  me  a  letter  just  received 


A   SOLDIER'S  SECRET.  293 

from  Mrs.  Holden.  Of  course  she  is  all  upset  by  his  having  to  take  the  field, 
and  wants  to  leave  the  children  with  her  naother  and  come  up  here  to  him, 
but  she  couldn't  be  in  camp,  and  there  isn't  a  room  to  be  had  at  the  railway- 
station.  The  place  is  just  crammed  with  newspaper  men  and  quarter- 
master's people.  Mrs.  Holden  writes  that  ever  since  the  night  of  that 
queer  adventure  of  hers  at  the  fort,  Nita  has  been  unlike  herself, — strange, 
nervoug,  almost  hysterical  at  times.  She  will  permit  no  allusion  to  it,  and 
seems  striving  to  forget  it  all.  She  goes  ever3^where,  morning,  noon,  and 
night,  but  looks  haggard  and  ill.  I  gather  from  what  Holden  said  that,  as 
you  once  surmised,  there  was  an  old  affair  which  may  have  had  something 
to  do  with  her  persistent  refusal  of  every  offer  ;  but  what  that  could  have 
had  to  do  with  her  fright  at  Pawnee  I  cannot  imagine.  Holden  agrees  with 
me,  however,  that  it  would  be  a  capital  thing  if  you  and  Winnie  would  pay 
her  the  visit  she  urges  :  so  again  I  say,  go  by  all  means. 

"  By  the  way,  I  wish  you  would  run  over  and  see  Mrs.  Thorpe  as  often 
as  you  can.  Her  letters  have  a  depressing  elFect  on  the  captain.  He  tells 
me  the  only  insurance  he  has  in  all  the  world  is  in  the  Army  Mutual ;  but 
three  thousand  dollars  would  hardly  pay  their  debts  and  take  care  of  them 
for  a  year,  if  anything  were  to  happen  to  him.  Don't  be  alarmed  by  news- 
paper stories  of  the  lighted  skies  and  howling  ghost-dancers.  Indians  will 
dance  all  night  on  any  provocation,  and  our  fires  light  the  skies  quite  as 
much  as  theirs.  Sergeant  Ellis,  who  volunteered  to  push  through  with  de- 
spatches to  Bailer's  command  somewhere  on  the  other  side  of  the  Bad  Lands, 
got  back  all  right  this  morning,  and  says  he  had  hardly  any  difficulty  in 
working  a  way  through  the  hostiles.  That  fellow,  I  think,  is  going  to  make 
a  name  for  himself  in  this  campaign.  He  is  always  ready  for  anything  that 
turns  up. 

**  I  near  that  Brewster  and  Ridgeway  have  had  a  row  and  do  not  speak. 
Some  of  the  boys  know  what  it's  all  about,  but  won't  tell  me.  Do  you 
know?  Now,  unless  you  wire  to  the  contrary,  I  shall  address  my  next  care 
of  Hon.  Warren  L.  Guthrie,  St.  Louis." 

Then  Kenyon  got  a  letter.  He  was  now  commanding  officer  of  the  post, 
and  was  unremitting  in  his  thoughtfuluess  and  attention  to  the  households 
of  the  absent  officers.  It  was  Rolfe  who  wrote  to  him,  and  Kenyon  was 
well-nigh  at  his  wits'  end  in  tlie  endeavor  to  conjecture  what  it  all'meant : 

"You  remember  my  saying  I  could  find  that  stolen  picture  if  I  could 
but  have  authority  to  search  one  room  at  the  post.  It  is  my  conviction  still 
that  the  man  who  goes  by  the  name  of  Ellis  was  the  thief.  He  had  a  lock- 
box at  the  post-office  in  town,  No.  23,  and  letters  liave  been  forwarded  to 
him  here  by  the  postmaster  two  of  which  were  not  addressed  to  Sers:eant 
Ellis  or  to  G.  B.  Ellis,  Twelfth  Cavalry,  but  to  Ralph  Erroll,  Box  23.  When 
he  returned  from  detached  service  this  morning  the  sergeant-major  handed 
him  his  mail  and  asked  him  if  those  additional  letters  were  his.  He  turned 
red,  then  pale,  but  said  yes.  Both  these  were  from  Louisville,  as  I  liappen 
to  know ;  both  were  addressed  in  the  same  hand, — that  of  an  educated 
woman  ;  and  there  is  no  doubt  in  my  mind  tliat  this  Ellis,  or  Erroll,  has  a 
screw  loose  in  his  record.  Brewster  knows  something  of  his  past,  but  refuses 
to  tell.  It  is  of  vital  importance  to  me  to  find  out  who  and  what  he  is,  for 
I  believe  him  to  have  been  guilty  of  a  crime  beside  which  the  theft  of  that 
picture  is  as  nothing. 

"Now,  I  want  you  to  do  something  for  me.  A  man  will  call  on  you 
within  a  few  days,' presenting  a  letter  of  introduction  from  me.  He  is  a 
detective  from  Chicago.  He  has  certain  inquiries  to  make  at  the  post  and 
in  town  before  going  to  Louisville,  and  it  should  not  be  known  tliat  he  is  a 
detective  at  all.  Give  him  every  facility  in  your  power.  Introduce  him  to 
the  postmaster  as  a  friend  of  mine,  if  you  prefer  it,  and  let  him  occupy  my 
quarters  while  at  the  garrison.  He  will  want  to  see  the  fire-house  and  ap- 
paratus and  all  about  Holden's  quarters.  Kathleen  is  there  in  charge,  and 
Holden  has  no  objection,  though  he  pooh-poohs  the  efforts  I  am  making  to 
get  at  the  bottom  of  this  strange  business.  I  hope  I  am  not  asking  too  much 
of  you. 

"  I  saw  Hearn  last  evening,  just  in  from  a  ten  days'  scout  with  Lane's 
squadron  over  towards  the  Wakpa  Shicha.  He  asked  after  you  and  sent 
cordial  regards.  There  are  two  other  fellows  here  who  were  on  their  honey- 
moon tour  when  their  regiments  were  ordered  to  the  field.  It  reconciles 
one  to  being  a  bachelor,  almost." 


294  ^   SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

The  major  put  the  letter  down  and  pondered  long,  perplexed  and  ati" 
noyed.  He  had  known  Rolfe  but  a  short  time,  and  had  learned  to  know 
him  mainly  tlirough  Holden.  He  knew  him  to  be  resolute,  positive,  even 
aggressive  at  times.  He  admired  his  soldierly  qualities  and  respected  his 
ability.  But  when  finally  he  rose  from  his  desk  after  stowing  that  letter 
away,  old  Kenyon  expressed  liimself  about  as  follows  :  "  That  fellow  needs 
a  wife ;  he  is  too  much  accustomed  to  having  his  own  way.  I'll  be  hanged 
if  I'll  do  any  detective  work  for  him  or  anybody  else.  If  Holden  wants 
his  house  searched,  Holden  can  say  so." 

Two  days  later  the  major  had  the  mournful  pleasure  of  escorting  Mrs. 
and  Miss  Berrien  to  the  train,  and  as  it  steamed  away  eastward  a  man  who 
had  stepped  from  the  day  car  as  Kenyon  placed  his  fair  charges  on  the 
sleeper  came  forward  and  handed  him  a  note  addressed  in  Rolfe's  charac- 
teristic hand. 

"  I  know  who  you  are,"  said  Kenyon.  "  You  will  find  me  at  my  oflBce 
in  the  garrison  when  you  get  up  there."  And,  stepping  into  the  waiting 
wagon,  he  bade  the  driver  go  ahead,  leaving  the  detective  to  come  up  in  the 
post  stage. 

That  evening  he  wrote  a  short  letter  to  Rolfe,  and  the  gentleman  from 
Chicago  indited  a  long  one, — both  of  which  would  have  served  to  surprise 
that  calmly  superior  soldier  not  a  little  had  they  reached  him  in  due  course 
of  mail,  which,  however,  they  did  not.  It  was  sometime  before  he  saw 
them  at  all,  for  when  they  were  unloaded  from  the  mail-bags  at  the  wintry 
cantonment,  Rolfe,  with  Berrien's  battalion,  was  miles  away. 

Getting  no  reply  to  his  missives  and 'little  encouragement  at  the  post, 
the  strange  civilian  suddenly  departed,  after  three  days'  apparently  aimless 
stay,  and  the  next  heard  of  him  was  in  the  shape  of  a  letter  from  Louis- 
ville. Could  Major  Kenyon  procure  for  him,  anyhow,  anywhere,  a  photo- 
graph of  Sergeant  Ellis?  No,  Major  Kenyon  couldn't,  and  was  very  short 
in  saying  so. 

And  now  December  was  come,  and  the  air  was  crisp  and  keen  in  the 
valley  of  the  Pawnee,  the  sunshine  radiant  and  sparkling ;  but  far  to  the 
nortli  the  wintry  winds  were  howling  about  the  flimsy  cantonment  and 
whirling  the  snow  through  every  cranny  and  crack,  and  the  long  nights  on 
outpost  and  picket  were  bitter  cold.  But,  through  it  all,  the  various  bat- 
talions of  horse  were  sent  scouting  in  turn  around  the  reservation,  and 
more  and  more  the  young  warriors  dribbled  away  from  the  agencies  and 
were  next  heard  of  welcomed  with  acclamations  by  the  savage  hosts  in  the 
fastnesses  of  the  Bad  Lands,  and  every  hour  increased  the  prospect  of  sharp 
fighting  in  the  near  future.  But  all  the  letters  to  the  anxious  hearts  at 
home  were  full  of  hope  and  cheer,  full  of  prophecy  that  everything  would 
soon  be  settled.  The  renegade  bands  were  all  "located"  and  being  slowly 
hemmed  in.  The  Twelfth  would  eat  its  Christmas  dinner  at  Pawnee  after 
all,  they  hoped.  And  in  St.  Louis  Miss  Guthrie  was  exerting  herself  to  see 
that  her  charming  guests  were  having  the  loveliest  kind  of  a  time.  Din- 
ners, luncheons,  card-,  theatre-,  and  dancing-parties  followed  in  quick  suc- 
cession. The  new  gowns  were  being  made  as  fast  as  famous  modistes  could 
evolve  and  construct  them,  and  Winifred  was  rushed  from  one  scene  of 
gayety  to  another. 

"Nothing  could  have  been  more  charming  than  our  welcome,"  wrote 
Mrs.  Berrien  to  her  beloved  Dick,  "nothing  more  delightful  than  the  round 
of  entertainments  to  which  we  are  bidden.  One  has  hardly  time  to  think. 
As  for  writing,  this  is  the  first  opportunity  I  have  enjoyed  in  three  days, 
and  we  are  home  from  the  theatre  but  half  an  hour.  Mrs.  Holden  comes 
over  every  day,  and  we  exchange  such  news  as  we  have  of  the  dear  old 
regiment'and  the  dearer  ones  who  are  our  especial  property.  She  is  what  I 
call  a  genuine  woman,  and  I  like  her  more  and  more.  I  must  tell  you 
something  I  learned  through  her.  The  day  after  our  arrival  we  were  in 
the  library,  and  my  attention  was  attracted  by  a  large  portrait,  apparently 
a  crayon  copy  of  a  photograph,  that  hung  over  the  mantel.  It  was  of  a 
singularly  handsome  young  man,  and  I  knew  at  once  he  must  be  a  Guthrie. 
'It  is  my  brother,'  said  Nita,  in  such  a  sad,  constrained  tone,  'taken  just 
a  few  weeks  before  his  death  six  years  ago.'  Of  course  I  could  ask  no 
more,  but  Winifred  and  I  both  noted  how  utterly  her  face  changed,  how 
unspeakably  distressed  a  look  came  into  her  eyes.  We  could  see  then  why 
Mrs.  Holden  should  have  said  she  was  haggard  and  ill ;  and  yesterday  Mrs. 


A   SOLDIER'S  SECREf.  205 

Holden  told  me  something  of  his  story.  He  was  barely  twenty-two,  the 
idol  of  the  family,  and  immensely  popular  in  society.  He  was  assistant 
cashier  in  one  of  the  big  banks  here,  and  one  day  the  sudden  discovery  was 
made  that  in  some  mysterious  way  quite  a  large  sum  was  missing,  money 
for  which  he  was  responsible,  but  he  could  not  account  for  it,  neither  could 
anybody  else.  The  matter  was  investigated  thoroughly.  Tliey  liad  detec- 
tives everywhere,  and  absolutely  nothing  could  be  brought  up  against  young 
Guthrie.  He  never  gambled,  never  dissipated  in  any  way,  was  a  model  son 
and  brotlier.  Nita  was  wild  with  indignation  at  his  having  been  even  sus- 
pected. Mr.  Guthrie  offered  to  make  good  the  sum  twice  over  if  need  be  and 
to  bond  himself  for  all  his  wealth  to  establish  his  boy's  honor,  and  for  three 
or  four  days  ail  was  excitement,  and  then,  in  the  midst  of  it,  poor  Jack  was 
found  dead  in  his  room,  a  half-empty  bottle  of  chloral  by  his  bedside.  The 
world  said  suicide,  guilty  conscience,  etc.,  but  Nita  and  others  knew  that 
he  had  not  slept  a  wink  since  the  discovery  of  the  loss  and  was  crazed  with 
misery.  They  have  always  maintained  it  was  an  accidental  overdose. 
But  it  nearly  broke  Mr.  Guthrie's  heart,  and  it  was  three  years  before  Nita 
would  go  into  society  in  St.  Louis  again.  They  went  to  Europe,  and  stayed 
there  ever  so  long. 

"  What  makes  it  seem  probable  that  he  was  unjustly  suspected  was 
that  the  bank  dismissed  its  cashier,  Jack's  most  intimate  friend,  a  man  two 
years  older  than  himself,  and  a  devoted  admirer  of  Nita's.  It  was  even 
supposed  that  she  was  engaged  to  him.  He  had  no  wealthy  friends  to  stand 
up  for  him,  and  Jack's  death  made  it  appear  as  though  there  had  been 
guilt ;  and  yet  such  a  sum  could  not  well  have  been  made  away  with  except 
by  the  knowledge  or  collusion  of  the  cashier  himself,  and,  though  proofs 
were  lacking,  he  was  discharged  the  very  day  poor  Jack  was  buried.  No  one 
knows  what  ever  became  of  him  afterwards,  and  people  settled  down  into 
the  belief  that  this  Mr.  Worden  was  the  real  thief.  But  now  comes  the 
strangest  part  of  it  all.  The  president  of  the  bank  was  a  widower  who  for 
two  years  had  been  a  suitor  of  Nita's,  a  persistent  suitor  despite  her  marked 
coldness  and  aversion.  Four  months  ago  rumors  began  to  float  as  to  the 
stability  of  the  bank  ;  then  came  a  run,  a  panic  ;  the  bank  had  to  close  its 
doors  ;  immediate  investigation  into  its  affairs  was  made,  and  then  came 
the  discovery  that  the  president  had  been  a  heavy  speculator  and  had  un- 
questionably used  the  funds  of  the  bank  to  cover  his  losses.  They  found 
his  body  in  the  river  four  days  afterwards,  floating  down  by  the  old  bar- 
racks where  you  and  I  had  such  a  happy  winter  twenty  years  ago.  People 
say  now  that  it  was  President  Percival  himself  all  the'time,  and  that  he 
threw  suspicion  on  young  Guthrie  because  he  knew  the  father  would  eagerly 
pay  any  sum  to  cover  the  loss  and  hide  the  shame,  but  Jack's  death  balked 
the  scheme. 

"  Do  you  wonder  now  that  Nita  is  sometimes  overwrought  and  ner- 
vous? Poor  girl !  who  knows  what  she  has  suffered?  Who,  to  see  her  in 
society,  would  dream  that  she  had  ever  suffered  at  all  ?  Do  you  suppose 
Captain  Rolfe  did  not  hear  all  about  this  when  he  was  here  on  recruiting 
service  ? 

"Now  you  ask  me  to  tell  you  everything  about  Winifred.  Is  she  happy  ? 
Is  she  getting  over  her  disappointment?  I  do  not  know  just  what  to  say. 
She  is  always  bright  and  apparently  joyous  in  society  ;  always  grateful  for 
every  kindness  and  attention  shown  her  ;  but  she  is  rarely  alone  one  min- 
ute from  morning  until  late  at  night,  and  I  cannot  be  sure.  She  never 
speaks  of  him  ;  and  in  all  the  whirl  of  social  gayety  here,  and  the  attention 
she  i-eceives  on  every  side,  I  think,  I  hope,  she  may  forget  her  girlish  senti- 
ment.    Time  will  sliow." 

Time  might  have  shown,  but  time  was  not  accorded.  Coming  home 
late  one  night  from  a  delightful  dance,  their  carriage  stopped  outside  the 
massive  joorte-cocA^/'e  of  the  Guthrie  homestead  instead  of  driving  right  in. 

"  What  is  it,  James?"  asked  Miss  Guthrie. 

"Another  carriage  here,  miss.  I  think' it's  Mrs.  Holden  just  getting 
out." 

"Jennie  here  !  Why,  how  odd  !  She  went  home  half  an  hour  before 
we  started." 

It  was  Jennie,  with  a  grave,  anxious  face,  at  sight  of  which  Mrs.  Berrien 
fairly  sprang  from  the  carriage. 

"  You  have  ill  news,  Mrs.  Holden.    What  is  it  ?    Tell  me  at  once." 


296  ^  SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

"This  has  just  come  from  my  husband,"  was  the  trembling  answer  asJ 
she  held  forth  a  telegram:  "Major  Berrien's  wound  serious,  but  not  fatal. 
Mrs.  Berrien  must  not  be  alarmed.  Do  not  believe  sensational  newspaper 
reports  of  disaster.    Wounded  doing  welL" 


IX. 

Pursuant  to  his  orders,  Major  Berrien  with  his  battalion  of  the  Twelfth 
had  been  scouting  the  open  country  that  lay  to  the  northeastward  of  the 
cantonment.  So  alarming  had  the  situation  become,  so  significant  if  not 
actually  defiant  was  the  manner  of  the  Indians  whose  lodges  were  pitched 
all  over  the  prairie  around  tlie  agency,  tliat  the  commanding  general  had 
caused  intreuchments  to  be  thrown  up  on  every  ridge  overlooking  that 
threatened  settlement.  Additional  troops,  including  a  strong  force  of  in- 
fantry and  detachments  of  light  artillery,  had  been  sent  to  the  scene. 
Hotchkiss  and  field  guns  wex'e  placed  in  position  commanding  the  Indian 
camp,  and  night  and  day  the  earth-works  were  heavily  manned  and  sen- 
tries and  outposts  guarded  every  approach.  Meantime,  the  main  body  of 
the  hostiles  was  still  ghost-dancing  and  howling  through  the  wintry  night 
far  over  to  the  north  among  the  breaks  and  chasms  of  the  Bad  Lands,  so 
strong  in  numbers  and  so  secure  from  assault  within  the  lines  of  their  nat- 
ural fortress  as  to  laugh  to  scorn  all  premonition  of  disaster.  Runners  had 
gone  to  every  tribe  urging  concerted  action  and  united  revolt.  Every  day 
brought  new  accessions,  and  all  that  was  needed  to  enable  them  to  bid  de- 
fiance to  the  encircling  force  was  the  arrival  of  the  great  bands  that  had 
broken  away  from  the  reservations  along  the  Missouri,  followers  and  would- 
be  avengers  of  the  old  chieftain  Sitting  Bull,  who  had  died  in  harness,  a 
rebel  to  the  last.  Brul6  and  Ogallalla,  Uncpapa  and  Minneconjou,  here 
were  the  warriors,  reinforced  by  many  a  new-grown  son,  who  had  fought 
the  white  soldiers  summer  after  summer,  time  and  again,  in  the  bloody 
days  of  the  decade  past, — the  Bruits  especially,  once  restrained  by  the  wis- 
dom of  old  Sintogaliska,  now  ripe  for  any  deviltry  and  well-nigh  unanimous 
for  war  to  the  knife. 

Without  noteworthy  incident,  Berrien's  command  had  circled  around 
to  the  east  of  the  sacred  lines  of  the  reservation,  had  spent  a  day  or  two 
exploring  the  breaks  and  ravines  of  a  dozen  little  streams  flowing  into  the 
Wakpa  Washtay,  had  located  trail  after  trail  of  travois-,  pony-,  and  lodge- 
pole-tracks,  had  scoured  the  wide  valley  of  the  main  stream,  but  without 
sight  of  a  single  warrior,  much  less  a  war-party.    The  still  smoking  ruins  of 
two  ranches  told,  however,  of  recent  visitation,  and  the  hoof-marks  of  cattle 
mingling  with  the  pony-tracks  pointed  unerringly  whither  the  spoil  had 
been  driven.     Meantime,  while  nothing  could  be  seen  of  the  wily  red  man, 
every  hour  gave  new  proof  that  their  own  movements  were  closely  observed. 
Signal-smokes  went  puffing  skyward  on  almost  every  side,  and  the  nighty 
sentries  declared  that  twice  just  before  dawn  of  two  successive  mornings: 
they  had   dimly  seen   shadowy  horsemen   darting  over  the  neighboring 
ridges  and  had  heard  the  thud  of  nimble  hoofs.     Even  in  the  faded  gray  of 
the  bunch-grass,  even  on  the  hard,  frozen  ground,  experienced  eyes  eould^ 
find  corroboration  of  the  story.    Daring  Indian  scouts  were  ever  on  their- 
flanks  and  front  and  rear,  making  no  overt  move  against  them,  but  keep-, 
ing  the  liostile  camp  fully  informed  of  everything  that  was  being  done< 
and  watching  restlessly  for" opportunity  to  cut  off  every  straying  charger,  to. 
cut  down  every  straggling  man.     Knowing  all  this  full  well,  Berrien  hadl 
given  strict  orders, — neither  officer  nor  trooper  was  permitted  to  leave  the 
column  by  day  nor  tlie  bivouac  by  night;  and  now,  its  mission  accom- 
plished, the  column  had  started  on  return  march,  and  \\]i  to  this  time  no 
casualty  liad  occurred.     So  long  as  the  isolated  battalion  was  moving  to- 
wards tlie  hostile  camp,  nearing  every  hour  the  overwhelming  array  of  the 
eneiny  and  separating  itself  farther  and  farther  from  friendly  supports,  no 
bar  had  been  put  to  its  progress.     But  now  the  Indian  scouts  could  see  that 
it  was  turning  back,  probably  in  the  hope  of  regaining  the  cantonment 
unmolested. 

It  was  a  sunshiny  December  afternoon  ;  the  air  was  as  clear  as  a  bell, 
the  clouds  that  obscured  the  eastern  sky  at  dawn  had  long  since  drifted  out 


A   SOLDIER'S  SECRET.  297 

of  sight,  and  in  all  its  broad  expanse  the  pale-blue  vault  of  the  heavens 
wore  not  so  much  as  a  feather  of  vapor.  Who  that  rode  in  the  laughing, 
chatting,  jaunty  column  that  sparkling  day  could  realize  the  change  a  few- 
hours  might  eftect  on  the  silent,  breezeless  solitudes  around  them  ?  At  noon 
the  sun  was  so  warm  that  many  a  trooper  had  stripped  off  his  heavy  over- 
coat and  turned  up  the  flaps  of  the  rough  fur  cap.  Except  in  deep  ravines 
or  coulSes,  hardly  any  snow  was  to  be  seen.  The  dull  gray  surface  of  the 
rolling  prairie,  wave  after  wave,  lay  basking,  and  the  leafless  branches  of 
the  cottonwoods  overhanging  the  frozen  pools  were  ghstening,  sparkling,  in 
the  life-giving  rays.  The  advance-guard,  after  breaking  the  ice  and  treating 
their  horses  to  a  mouthful  of  water  at  the  stream,  had  moved  on  at  brisk 
trot,  and  now  the  stalwart  riders  were  spreading  out  in  extended  order  as 
they  breasted  the  slope.  Out  to  the  west,  full  five  hundred  yards,  the  wary 
flankers  could  be  seen,  some  crossing  the  stream  farther  down  the  valley, 
while  other  comrades  peered  over  the  barren  ridge  behind,  that  no  sneaking 
foe  might  crawl  up  unobserved  and  send  a  long-range  bullet  from  its  shelter 
down  into  tlie  swarm  of  troopers  at  the  ford.  So,  too,  the  flankers  to  the 
east  and  the  sturdy  httle  knot  of  rear-guardsmen  just  popping  up  over  the 
divide  so  recently  crossed,  all  told  of  ceaseless  vigilance  on  every  side.  Ber- 
rien has  not  ridden  the  Sioux  trail  a  score  of  years  for  nothing.  He  takes 
no  chances  where  the  security  of  his  command  is  concerned,  and  has  small 
opinion  of  the  leader  who  subjects  them  to  needless  risk. 

And  now  one  after  another  the  four  troops  ride  into  close  column  on  the 
north wai'd  bank ;  the  men  dismount,  unsaddle,  and  presently,  with  side-lines 
in  hand,  each  trooper  leading  his  faithful  steed,  the  four  herds  are  guided  to 
the  separate  grazing-grounds  already  chosen  and  "pre-empted"  by  wide- 
awake subalterns  or  sergeants.  There  the  side-lines  are  carefully  adjusted, 
the  bridles  slipped  off,  three  or  four  men  remain  in  saddle  as  herd-guard, 
and  the  horses  are  left  to  graze.  Rich  with  nutriment  is  that  crisp,  dry 
bunch-grass, — rich  and  plentiful.  Tlie  mules  of  the  pack-train  bray  with 
impatience  to  shed  their  loads  and  join  their  envied  four-footed  comrades  ; 
but  presently  they  too,  following  the  bell,  are  streaming  out  upon  the  guarded 
prairie,  rolling  in  luxury  upon  the  frosty  earth  and  kicking  their  legs  in  air 
in  genuine  delight.  From  a  dozen  little  fires  among  the  bare-limbed  cotton- 
woods  tlie  thin  smoke  is  curling  aloft,  and  the  rattle  of  tin  cup  and  plate 
and  the  jovial  voices  of  the  men  seem  to  clamor  for  their  soldier  rations. 
In  long  rows  the  saddles  and  equipments  are  aligned  upon  tbe  turf,  each 
man's  carbine  and  belt  at  his  saddle.  Huge  rolls  of  robes  and  blankets  are 
unstrapped  and  spread  to  air,  and  all  this  time,  while  the  troop-officers  are 
looking  to  tlie  comfort  and  security  of  tlieir  horses,  Major  Berrien,  followed 
by  a  single  orderly,  is  riding  about  from  point  to  point  to  satisfy  himself  that 
the  guards  are  stationed  where  best  they  can  secure  the  bivouac  against 
surprise. 

The  ridge  to  the  southwest  is  higher  than  those  which  limit  the  view 
at  other  points,  and  thither  Ber^-ien  is  now  riding  at  easy  lope.  Rolfe  and 
Hazlett,  watching  him  for  a  moment,  exchange  an  appreciative  nod  as  they 
hear  from  the  group  of  soldiers  at  the  nearest  camp-fire  some  brawny  son 
of  the  old  sod  remark,  "Just  luck  at  the  ould  man  now  ;  sure  it's  a  smart  red- 
skin that  will  ever  get  through  the  pickets  he  posts."  Not  since  the  days 
of  old  "Major  Slowtrot,"  old  "Pap"  Thomas,  has  there  been  a  battalion 
commander  better  loved  by  the  rank  and  file.  They  know  nothing  will 
ever  induce  him  to  forget  one  precaution  for  their  safety,  and  reward  his 
care  with  a  loyalty  of  devotion  good  to  see.  Watching  him  still  further, 
Hazlett  notes  that  a  distant  vedette  has  signalled,  and  that  Berrien,  slowly 
now,  is  riding  up  the  slope  to  join  him.  A  sergeant^has  some  question  to 
ask  at  the  moment,  and  when  Hazlett  again  looks  out  to  the  southwest, 
major,  orderly,  and  vedette  have  disappeared  from  view  around  a  little 
shoulder  of  bluff.  Other  vedettes  can  be  seen  at  their  posts  on  all  sides,  and 
a  few  dismounted  sentries  lying  prone  where,  unseen  themselves,  they  can 
scan  the  country  to  their  front.  But  Hazlett's  curiosity  is  excited  by  the 
fact  that  two  men,  mere  specks  in  the  distance,  are  huddling  together  at  the 
crest  half  a  mile  away  to  the  southwest  and  evidently  watching  something 
out  at  their  front  and  motioning  to  the  sergeant  back  with  the  supports. 
Presently  this  trooper,  too,  trots  out  to  join  them.  Berrien  and  his  party 
are  still  out  of  sight  from  camp. 

"  Captain,  may  I  borrow  your  field-glasses?"  asks  Mr.  Brewster,  swing- 


298  ^   SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

ing  up  to  the  fire  where  Hazlett  stands.  "  I  have  lent  mine  to  the  sergeant 
of  the  guard." 

"  Did  you  see  where  the  major  went?"  asl^s  Hazlett  by  way  of  reply,  as 
he  hands  the  desired  instrument. 

"  I  last  saw  him  at  tlie  point  yonder.  He  rode  around  it  with  Sergeant 
Ellis  and  a  couple  of  men,  and  that  vedette  must  have  been  calling  to  him. 
It  seems  to  me  they've  been  gone  some  time  :  so  Gorham  says  I  can  ride  out 
and  find  out  what  it  means." 

"I'd  go  with  you,  Brewster,  but  my  horse  is  out  at  herd.  Take  the 
glasses  with  you,  anyhow."  Brewster's  big  black  is  led  up  at  the  moment, 
and  the  lieutenant  quickly  mounts  and  canters  easily  away. 

Meantime,  old  Berrien,  wl>o  has  noted  the  signals  of  the  vedette  referred 
to,  has  joined  him,  with  the  brief  inquiry,  "What  is  it,  Scott?" 

"Why,  sir,  I  was  posted  here  by  the  sergeant,  and  he  had  no  sooner 
gone  than  I  saw  what  I  took  to  be  horsemen  in  the  valley  several  miles  out 
yonder  to  the  soutliwest.  The  major  can  see  the  whole  country  from  a  butte 
that  lies  perhaps  three  hundred  yards  farther  out  beyond  this  ridge.  But 
here  comes  tlie  sergeant  back,  sir." 

It  is  Ellis,  cantering  briskly  from  the  advanced  position  Scott  has 
designated,  and  coming  to  them  now  around  the  shoulder  of  the  bluff  a 
little  to  the  right.  That  Ellis  has  seen  something  is  evident :  his  face 
shows  it  in  an  instant. 

"  An  Indian  war-party,  major,  perhaps  a  dozen,  rode  from  behind  a  long 
ridge  over  to  the  west  and  down  into  the  valley  of  what  I  take  to  be  a  branch 
of  the  Porcupine.  That  butte  hides  a  good  deal  of  the  valley  ;  but  we  can 
see  it  from  there,  though." 

"  You  three  men  come  with  me,"  says  Berrien,  quietly.  "We  must  look 
into  this." 

Two  minutes'  lope  brings  them  to  the  butte  Ellis  has  pointed  out. 
Leaving  their  horses  with  the  orderly,  Berrien,  the  sergeant,  and  the  sen- 
tinel go  crouching  up  the  hither  slope,  throw  themselves  on  the  ground, 
and  crawl  to  the  summit.  As  the  vedette  has  said,  the  whole  country  for 
miles  in  every  direction  can  be  seen, — a  country  of  bold  contours,  of  bare, 
rounded  bluffs  and  buttes,  of  deep,  shadowy  ravines  and  gulches, — a  country 
bare  of  trees  save  the  ghostly,  leafless  cotton  woods  perched  by  the  banks  of 
many  a  frozen  stream.  Miles  and  miles  to  the  north  and  northwest  the 
wild  Indian  land  spreads  before  their  eyes.  Close  at  hand,  tumbling,  billowy, 
and  abrupt,  the  ridges  follow  or  intercept  one  another  in  rapid  succession. 
The  face  of  the  land  is  cut  up  into  tortuous  "breaks,"  the  deep,  narrow 
beds  of  countless  little  streams,  all  winding  tributary  to  the  river  tliat  flows 
placidly  away  to  the  northeast  in  the  broad  valley  from  which  the  column 
marched  at  dawn.  Beyond  that,  west  of  north,  clearly,  sharplj^  defined  in 
the  distance,  already  alternating  glaring  surface  and  ghostly  shade  under 
the  slanting  rays  of  the  westering  sun,  a  tumbling  mass  of  jagged,  fantastic 
shapes,  a  tangle  of  vertical  cliffs  and  seamed  and  furrowed  walls,  a  Labyrinth 
of  gorges,  gullies,  washed-out  channels,  deep  black  crevices,  and  broad, 
yawning,  impassable  gulfs,  the  storied  Bad  Lauds  of  Dakota,  shunned  by 
all  except  the  renegade  and  outlaw  in  the  past,  now  habitable  only  by  the 
Indian.  Beyond  these,  faint  and  dim  in  the  distance,  the  snow-covered, 
pine-crested  summits  in  the  Black  Hills.  All  the  rest  of  the  surface,  east, 
west,  and  south,  a  frozen  sea  of  gray,  glinting  here  and  there  in  the  declining 
rays  ;  and  there  off  to  the  southwest,  perhaps  five  miles  away,  lies  the  valley 
into  which  the  party  of  dusky  warriors  has  galloped  so  short  a  time  before, 
— the  valley  beyond  w'hich,  a  long,  long  day's  march  away,  stands  the 
guarded  camp  of  comrade  soldiery  awaiting  their  return.  Berrien  studies 
the  scene  long  and  carefully  through  his  glasses.  Intermediate  ridges  are 
not  many,  but  they  are  sharp  and  clearly  defined. 

"Who  was  it  reported  that  the  advance  saw  signal-smokes  south  of  us 
at  noon  ?"  he  asks. 

"Corporal  Waite,  sir;  he  and  two  of  the  men  saw  them  plainly,  and 
they  seemed  to  be  answered  off  here."  And  Ellis  points  miles  away  to  the 
west. 

Berrien  ponders  a  moment. 

"  Where  away  would  you  locate  the  agency,  sergeant,  if  you  were  going 
to  take  a  bee-line  for  it?" 

"  Out  off  here,  sir." 


A  SOLDIER'S  SECRET.  299 

"And  they  crossed  that  line  going  into  the  valley?" 

"They  certainly  did,  sir,  and Look,  major  !  look  yonder  !    Another 

band,  and  from  exactly  the  same  place." 

A  little  bevy  of  dark  objects  darts  suddenly  into  view  from  behind  a 
curtain-like  divide  and  goes  skimming  over  a  level  stretch  towards  the  low 
lands  of  the  valley.     Berrien's  glasses  seeri  glued  to  his  eyes. 

"Twenty  of  them  in  that  party!  What  do  they  see?  What's  their 
hurry  ?  They  would  not  expose  themselves  to  our  view  unless  there  were 
urgent  need  for  haste." 

"  The  old  road  comes  in  from  that  direction,  sir,"  answers  Ellis.  "We 
left  it  a  few  hours  out  from  the  cantonment,  as  you  remember.  Can 
anything  have  been  seen  along  that  road  to  give  rise  to  signal-sm  kes?" 

Berrien  turns  half  over  and  looks  keenly  into  the  sergeant's  inteUigent 
face. 

"  That  road  has  been  abandoned  for  weeks  past.  Everybody  to  the  east 
of  us  has  taken  refuge  at  the  railway  long  since.  Nobody  would  be  coming 
from  that  direction." 

"I  know  that,  sir  ;  but  would  not  any  detachment  coming  from  the 
agency  to  meet  us,  for  instance,  be  apt  to  keep  the  road  ?  I  understood  we 
were  to  strike  for  it  in  the  morning  and  follow  it  in." 

Again  Berrien  gazes  long  and  earnestly  through  the  binocular.  "They 
are  certainly  heading  for  that  road  and  riding  at  full  speed.  How  many 
men  have  you  at  this  front?"  he  quickly  asks. 

"Just  eight,  sir,  all  told,  but  -"ight  more  are  almost'within  over  on 

our  left  flank.  Yonder  is  the  ridge  where  ray  men  are  posted."  And  Ellis 
points  to  their  left  rear  where  lies  the  low  crest. 

"Just  keep  a  good  lookout  here,  sergeant,  I  will  move  them  over  this 
way,  and  then  ride  to  the  left  flank. — My  horse,  orderly."  And,  thinking 
deeply  over  the  matter  as  he  rides,  Berrien  spurs  into  a  lively  canter  across 
an  intervening  dip  in  the  prairie.  "Some  mischief  ahead,"  he  mutters, 
"They  are  not  speeding  up  that  valley  for  nothing.  We  may  have  to 
saddle  and  get  over  there." 

Not  two  hundred  yards  has  he  ridden  when  from  the  point  which  he 
has  just  quitted  there  comes  a  sudden  yell  of  warning,  followed  almost  in- 
stantly by  two  shots  in  quick  succession.  Then  bang  !  bang  !  another  two, 
and,  as  he  whirls  about,  the  first  object  that  meets  his  startled  gaze  is  Ellis's 
handsome  black  horse  plunging  to  eartli  almost  at  the  edge  of  a  shallow 
ravine  some  distance  out  in  front  of  the  butte. 

"My  God,  sir,"  cries  the  orderly,  '  Sergeant  Ellis  is  killed  !" 

Berrien's  heart  bounds.  There,  face  downward  upon  the  sward,  mo- 
tionless, just  a  few  feet  away  from  the  plunging,  death-stricken  horse,  lies 
tlie  sergeant,  his  carbine  dropped  from  his  nerveless  hand.  At  the  same 
instant,  red,  glittering,  bedaubed  with  paint,  bespangled  with  cheap  finery, 
two  young  Indian  braves  lash  their  ponies  into  furious  gallop  as  they  shoot 
up  out  of  the  shallow  ravine,  and,  rifles  in  hand,  coup-sticks  advanced,  race 
madly  towards  the  stricken  trooper  in  eager  effort  to  secure  the  trophy  of 
their  prowess,  the  coveted  scalp  of  the  fallen  foe. 

"Your  carbine,  man!"  yells  Berrien  to  his  orderly.  "Quick!  shoot 
that  leader  !"  And  putting  spurs  to  his  snorting  horse,  reckless  of  the  fact 
that  he  is  armed  only  with  revolver  and  that  the  ravine  may  be  full  of  In- 
dians, the  veteran  soldier  drives  full  tilt  at  the  charging  braves.  He  thinks 
only  of  the  fact  that  one  of  his  men  lies  prostrate  and  helpless  before  them. 
They  are  almost  upon  Ellis  before  Berrien  has  ,;;:alloped  a  rod.  They  are 
within  twenty  paces  of  him  when,  with  a  shout  of  delight,  the  major  sees 
him  whirl  suddenly  over,  grasp  his  carbine,  and,  all  in  a  second,  the  flame 
leaps  from  the  bronzed  muzzle,  the  foremost  warrior  drops  his  rifle,  whirls 
up  a  clinching,  convulsive  hand,  and  topples  headforemost  out  of  the  saddle. 
Scott,  the  vedette,  echoes  with  another  shot  that  kicks  up  the  dust  close 
under  the  second  pony's  flashing  heels.  Its  red  rider  veers  in  broad  circle  to 
the  right,  and  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  the  feathered  war-bonnet  bows 
low  over  the  pony's  stretching  neck  ;  Berrien's  bullet  whizzes  harmlessly 
above,  and  the  major  himself,  borne  by  the  rush  of  his  half-maddened  steed, 
dashes  on  past  Ellis,  now  kneeling  for  another  shot,  and  so  goes  crash  into 
the  midst  of  a  little  knot  of  yelling  warriors  just  bounding  up  out  of  the 
gully  to  the  rescue  of  their  stricken  comrade.  "Bess,  my  wife  ;  Winnie," 
are  the  only  words  he  has  time  or  thought  to  mutter,  for  instant  death  seems 


300  ^  SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

inevitable.  But  all  the  old  fighting  instinct  is  uppermost,  and  almost  in 
the  face  of  the  foremost  Sioux  his  revolver  blazes  its  challenge,  and  horse 
and  pony  meet  in  tremendous  shock,  and  the  lighter  steed  goes  tumbling 
and  rolling  over  the  turf.  There  is  chorus  of  yells,  shots,  soldier  cheers, 
thundering  hoofs.  Tliere  is  a  vision  of  glittering  steel  in  front  of  his  eyes, 
of  hideous,  painted  face,  a  sudden  sense  of  stumble  and  stunning  fall,  a 
shrill  whoop  of  triumph,  changing  instantly  into  the  death-cry,  and  while 
his  BruL  antagonist  goes  crashing  down,  pony  and  all,  Berrien  is  conscious 
of  the  superb  leap  of  a  big  black  charger  over  his  own  prostrate  form,  of 
a  stentorian  cheer  from  half  a  dozen  trooper  throats,  and  the  next  minute 
Brewster  is  kneeling  by  his  side,  raising  the  honored  gray  head  in  his  strong 
young  arms,  and  the  voice  that  thundered  ia  battle-cry  but  an  instant 
agone  is  trembling  now  as  he  calls  for  a  canteen  of  water  and  bids  his 
half-stunned  commander  not  to  strive  to  move. 

"We've  got  two  of  them,  sir,  all  right,"  he  whispers,  breathless,  but 
well  knowing  that  to  be  the  best  news  he  can  give.  "  The  rest  got  away 
and  left  a  buUet-hole  in  your  shoulder." 


X. 

"Since  you  ask  me,  sir,  I  most  distinctly  oppose  its  being  referred  to 
Major  Berrien.  He  is  doing  well,  but  the  excitement  might  bring  on  fever 
— and  disaster." 

It  was  Dr.  Holden  who  spoke — and  very  firmly  spoke— to  Colonel  Far- 
quhar  four  days  after  the  little  fight  beyond  the  PorcuiDine.  The  colonel 
sat  with  bowed  head,  grave  and  thoughtful.  Before  him  stood  his  surgeon, 
respectful  but  most  earnest  in  manner.  Beside  him  on  the  narrow  field-bed 
sat  Rolfe,  with  face  of  gloom, — three  or  four  letters  and  a  telegram  in  his 
gauntleted  hand.  Already  the  wintry  twilight  was  settling  down  ;  the 
wind,  that  had  been  moaning  through  the  flimsy  shelter  for  the  last  hour, 
was  now  whistling  in  gathering  wrath  and  flapping  every  loose  rag  of  canvas 
about  the  crowded  cantonment.  Mules  and  horses  at  the  picket-lines  with 
one  accord  were  turning  tail  to  the  black  northwest  and  pawing  the  hard 
and  frozen  ground  in  nervous  disquiet.  The  orderly  who  suddenly  stepped 
within  the  tent  was  followed  by  a  few  whirling  flakes  of  snow,  and  the  first 
match  he  struck  in  the  efibrt  to  light  the  colonel's  field-lamp  was  puflFed  out 
in  a  twinkling. 

"  Give  my  compliments  to  Mr.  Brewster  and  ask  him  to  step  here,"  said 
the  colonel,  after  a  moment's  silence  ;  and  the  orderly  vanished. 

In  the  camp  of  the  Twelfth,  where  Berrien  was  universally  beloved, 
three  names  had  been  on  every  lip  since  the  battalion's  return, — those  of 
the  gallant  major  himself,  of  Lieutenant  Brewster,  and  of  Sergeant  Ellis. 
Painfully  shot  and  stunned  and  bruised  though  he  was,  Berrien's  wits  had 
never  left  him.  He  was  positive  that  tlie  rush  of  war-parties  towards  the 
old  road  portended  mischief,  and,  despite  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  he  or- 
dered the  battalion  to  saddle  at  once  and  march  to  the  Porcupine.  From 
the  abandoned  lodge-poles  found  along  the  banks  experienced  hands  had 
quickly  lashed  together  a  comfortable  litter.  Between  these  improvised 
shafts  two  of  the  most  sedate  of  the  elderly  pack-mules  were  harnessed  fore 
and  aft.  A  bed  of  robes  and  blankets  was  hung  midway,  and,  while  Rolfe 
and  Hazlett  pushed  ahead,  scouting  every  ridge  and  ravine  with  their  keen- 
eyed  skirmishers,  Gorhani  and  Thorpe  followed,  escorting  their  beloved 
chief.  Just  as  was  anticipated,  at  nightfall  the  distant  flash  and  report 
of  rifles  proved  that  the  hostiles  were  busily  at  work  in  some  deviltry  or 
other,  and,  launching  forward  at  the  gallop,  Rolfe's  long  line  swooped  down 
into  the  valley  in  time  to  send  the  yelling  circle  of  mounted  warriors  whirl- 
ing away  into  the  ravines  beyond  the  stream,  and  to  rescue  a  little  squad  of 
scouts  and  troopers,  a  mere  handful,  who  had  ventured  forth  with  despatches^ 
for  Berrien's  command  and  were  fighting  for  life  behind  their  slaughtered 
horses.  Two  were  already  sorely  wounded,  and  all  would  doubtless  have 
lost  their  scalps,  but  for  the  veteran  major's  clear  judgment  and  the  sense 
of  duty  that  triumphed  over  physical  pain. 

"The  ould  man's  clear  grit  all  through,"  said  his  invariable  eulogists, 
the  troopers.    But  there  would  have  been  no  dear  old  man  left  to  them,  as 


A   SOLDIER'S  SECRET.  301 

Ellis  and  Scott  had  borne  testimony,  had  it  not  been  for  Brewster's  daring 
charge  into  the  midst  of  the  red  warriors.  It  was  Iiis  bullet  that  laid  low 
the  savage  brandisher  of  the  knife  just  as  he  would  have  gashed  the  brave 
old  major's  throat;  but  "White  Wolf"  had  counted  his  last  coup,  and, 
stripped  of  his  finery,  lay  stiffening  on  the  prairie,  a  painted  corpse,  await- 
ing funeral  honors  at  the  hands  of  his  howling  comrades.  Every  soldier's 
heart  rejoiced  that  it  was  Brewster  who  saved  the  major's  life,  for  Bi'ewster, 
of  all  the  subalterns,  was  first  favorite  among  the  rank  and  file.  And  as 
for  Ellis,  though  he  was  too  exclusive — "  too  much  like  as  though  he  wanted 
to  be  an  officer" — to  be  generally  popular  among  the  men,  he  had  always 
commanded  their  respect,  and  his  unexpected  prowess  on  this  occasion  won 
their  genuine  admiration.  Wliat  nerve  the  fellow  had,  to  be  sure,  to  lie 
there  "playing  possum"  just  as  though  he  were  stone-dead  and  ripe  for 
scalping,  and  so  tempt  his  assailants  out  from  the  cover  of  the  ravine,  and 
then  never  stir  until  they  were  so  close  he  simply  couldn't  miss,  and  so 
"  got  in  his  deadly  work."  Brewster  and  Ellis  were  the  major's  avengers, 
the  two  troopers  who  had  dealt  out  death  to  the  foe,  and  who  were  there- 
fore, from  the  soldier  point  of  view,  the  men  most  entitled  to  the  honors  of 
the  day. 

And  yet,  at  the  very  moment  when  every  other  man  in  the  regiment 
was  lauding  their  names  and  congratulating  them  upon  their  deserved 
laurels,  one  captain,  Rolfe,  was  practically  demanding  at  the  hands  of  his 
colonel  tiiat  they  should  be  stripj)ed  of  their  high  estate  and  sent  to  the  rear 
in  arrest. 

As  Dr.  Holden  stood  there  listening  to  the  accusations  and  arguments 
brought  forward  by  Captain  Rolfe,  he  could  not  but  recall  the  remarks  that, 
in  one  form  or  other,  had  occasionally  been  brought  to  his  ears  at  Rolfe's 
expense.  Even  so  conservative  and  loyal  a  fellow  as  Warren,  the  adjutant, 
had  once  summarized  his  character  in  forcible  terms  :  "I  respect  his 
ability,"  said  he,  "but  damn  his  egotism.  Rolfe  in  this  regiment  is  just 
like  the  one  juror  who  said  that  tbey  could  long  ago  have  agreed  on  convic- 
tion but  for  the  eleven  blooming  idiots  who  held  out  for  acquittal."  Rolfe 
was  a  man  of  such  intensity  of  opinion  and  purpose  that,  once  having 
made  up  his  own  mind  as  to  what  somebody  else  ought  to  do,  he  deemed  it 
not  only  a  right  but  a  duty  to  instruct  the  other  party,  no  matter  what  that 

Earty's  rank  or  station  might  be  ;  and  this  was  practically  what  Rolfe  had 
een  doing  to  his  colonel  ever  since  Holden  appeared  upon  the  scene.  Per- 
sonally Holden  had  never  met  Rolfe  before  the  arrival  of  the  regiment  at 
Pawnee,  but,  except  a  certain  dogmatism  of  manner  in  discussions  over 
points  in  tactics,  politics,  law,  or  whist,  he  had  decidedly  liked  everything 
about  him,  and  told  the  youngsters  as  much  when  he  found  that  they  did 
not. 

"Any  man  with  half  an  eye  can  see  that  Rolfe  wants  to  make  the  very 
best  kind  of  an  impression  on  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Holden,"  said  Randolph. 
"  They  are  Miss  Guthrie's  nearest  friends  and  relatives, — at  least  the  nearest 
whom  he  knows."  But  Holden  also  liked  Brewster,  liked  him  well,  and 
could  not  believe  all  that  Rolfe  was  so  strenuously  urging  upon  the  colonel : 
first,  that  Ellis  was  a  thief  and  an  outcast,  and,  second,  that  Brewster  had 
known  it  all  along  and  concealed  it.  The  more  positively  and  unflinchingly 
Rolfe  asserted  himself,  the  more  did  Holden  resent  it. 

Finally  Rolfe  had  burst  out  witli, — 

"  Well,  Colonel  Farquhar,  I'm  acting  in  this  manner  for  the  honor  of 
the  regiment  to  which  I've  been  attaclied  through  thiclv  and  thin  for  nearly 
a  quarter  of  a  century.  I  heard  you  were  just  sending  forward  a  report 
highly  commending  these  two  men,  and  I  believed  it  my  duty  to  inform 
you  of  their  character.  As  you  seem  reluctant  to  accept  my  statements,  I 
request  as  a  matter  of  justice  to  me  that  you  refer  my  report  to  Major  Ber- 
rien at  once,  and  he  will  corroborate  my  opinion." 

Then  and  not  till  then  did  Farquhar  firmly  and  almost  sternly  call  his 
subordinate  to  order,  and  when  Rolfe  had  been  reduced  to  enforced  silence 
the  colonel  turned  to  Holden,  and  Holden  had  given  prompt  voice  to  his 
utter  objection  to  their  disturbing  the  wounded  major  with  any  such  mat- 
ter. "But  I  will  send  for  Mr.  Brewster,  Captain  Rolfe,  and  question  him 
in  your  presence,"  said  Farquhar.  And  Brewster,  who  had  just  been  en- 
joying a  hearty  hand-shake  and  pleasant  words  with  several  officers  of  the 
Eleventh  who,  despite  the  rising  gale,  had  ridden  over  to  congratulate  him, 


302  A   SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

went  blithely  and  briskly  to  answer  the  colonel's  summons.  Warren  had 
given  him  "the  tip"  as  to  the  letter  being  prepared  for  Farquhar's  signa- 
ture. It  was  a  joy  to  know  that  his  name  was  to  be  sent  forward  with  the 
praise  of  his  soldierly  and  honored  chief.  It  was  almost  rapture  to  con- 
jecture what  Winifred  Berrien  would  think  of  him  when  she  heard  that 
his  vigilance  and  dash  had  saved  her  father's  life. 

He  looked,  therefore,  the  very  picture  of  stalwart,  soldierly,  brave-eyed 
manhood  as  he  stepped  quickly  into  the  colonel's  tent  and  stood  erect  be- 
fore the  silent  trio  there  assembled.  He  came  with  a  heart  beating  high 
with  anticipation  ;  but  one  glance  at  Rolfe's  sombre  and  half- averted  face, 
the  first  words  in  Farquhar's  grave  though  courteous  tones,  banished  all 
pleasurable  thought  and  put  him  on  his  guard. 

"Mr.  Brewster,  if  I  remember  aright,  it  was  you  who  presented  Ser- 
geant Ellis  for  enlistment  when  we  were  in  the  Hills.    Am  I  right?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  You  knew  him  before  his  joining  us,  did  you  not?" 

"  A  short  time,  sir  ;  yes." 

"  Where  had  you  known  him,  and  how  long?" 

"  At  Dead  wood,  sir  ;  I  met  him  there  on  two  occasions  before  he  decided 
to  enlist." 

"  Two  occasions?    And  how  long  before  he  came  to  us?" 

"  Perhaps  a  week,  sir." 

"And  you  had  never  known  him  or  of  him  before?" 

"  I  had  seen  him,  but  I  cannot  say  that  I  had  ever  known  him." 

"Mr.  Brewster,"  burst  in  Captain  Rolfe  at  this  juncture  before  he 
could  be  checked,  "do  you  mean  to  tell  me  you  were  not  well  acquainted 
with  this  so-called  Ellis  long  before  you  met  him  in  the  Hills?" 

"Captain  Rolfe,"  was  the  instant  answer,  and  the  flush  leaped  to 
Brewster's  cheeks,  an  angry  light  to  his  eyes,  "I  mean  to  tell  you  nothing 
whatever.     I  am  answering  Colonel  Farquhar." 

"Permit  me  to  conduct  this  matter,  Captain  Rolfe,"  said  Farquhar, 
stretching  forth  a  restraining  hand  and  checking  the  captain  as  he  rose 
with  another  question  on  his  lips.  Rolfe,  with  almost  any  other  man, 
might  possibly  have  persisted.  He  knew  Farquhar,  however,  and  knew 
that  however  gentle  and  courteous  might  be  his  manner  he  could  come 
down  hard  upon  those  who  crossed  him.  So,  with  evident  effort,  he  held 
his  tongue,  but  remained  standing.  "  Be  good  enough  to  resume  your  seat, 
captain,"  continued  the  colonel,  all  grave  politeness  ;  and  Rolfe  slowly  and 
reluctantly  subsided. 

"You  went  to  Helena  once  some  five  years  ago  as  witness  before  a 
court,  and  the  train  was  held  up  by  road-agents,  Mr.  Brewster.  Did  you 
not  meet  this  man  about  that  time?" 

"  Yes,  colonel,  I  saw  him,  but  I  did  not  know  him  from  Adam." 

"You'  conversed  with  him,  did  you  not,  and  were  at  the  same  hotel  at 
Helena  with  him?" 

"  I  did  ;  yes,  sir  ;  and  I  was  at  the  same  hotel  for  thirty-six  hours.  But 
he  was  a  total  stranger  to  me.  His  dress  was  that  of  a  gentleman,  so  was 
his  manner,  and  almost  everybody  in  our  car  got  to  talking  with  him.  He 
was  the  only  one  who  really  saw  the  train-robbers, — it  was  all  done  so 
quickly,  while  we  were  in  our  berths  ;  but  he  had  got  aboard  at  some  station 
just  before  the  thing  occurred." 

"  Did  you  not  know  when  he  enlisted  that  he  gave  an  assumed  name?" 

"No,  colonel,  I  did  not.     For  all  I  know,  Ellis  is  his  own  name." 

"  Yet  you  knew  him  as  Ralph  ErroU  at  Helena,"  burst  in  Rolfe  again. 

"Captain  Rolfe,"  said  the  colonel,  with  marked  emphasis,  "I  will  ask 
you  to  withdraw  ;  but,  except  by  Dr.  Holden's  permission,  you  will  not 
speak  of  this  matter  to  Major  Berrien.  I  desire  to  see  Mr.  Brewster  for 
myself.— No,  Holden  ;  you  remain." 

There  was  no  help  for  it  now,  Rolfe  had  to  go  ;  and  go  he  did,  without 
a  word.  Then  Farquhar,  in  his  courteous  tones,  repeated  his  question,  and 
received  prompt  reply  : 

"  He  certainly  gave  his  name  as  Erroll  in  Helena  and  as  Ellis  when  he 
enlisted,  colonel,  but  which  is  right  or  that  either  is  right  I  have  no  means 
of  knowing." 

"  Well,  I  am  told  that  he  gave  you  much  of  his  history  and  that  you 
lent  birr)  money  in  Dead  wood." 


A  SOLDIER'S  SECRET.  303 

"I  did  lend  him,  though  at  the  time  I  thought  I  was  giving  him, 
twenty  dollars  to  pay  pressing  debts  whicli  he  had  to  settle  before  he  could 
leave  there  and  come  to  us.  He  was  destitute  and  starving.  He  did  tell 
me  something  of  his  past,  but  whether  it  was  true  or  not  I  cannot  say. 
The  more  I  see  of  him  the  more  I  believe  it ;  believe  he  was  a  gentleman 
born  and  bred,  and  that  he  had  had  hard  luck,  lost  home  and  friends  and 
fortune ;  that  he  took  to  the  West  and  mining ;  that  he  made  and  lost 
alternately  ;  that  now  he  is  reaping  some  reward  for  his  labor.  What  I 
know  is  that  he  is  a  tip-top  soldier,  of  whom  tlie  whole  regiment  has  reason 
to  be  proud,  even  tliough  I  don't  know  what  may  be  his  own  name." 

Holden  was  listening  eagerly  to  every  word. 

"May  I  ask  a  question,  colonel?" 

"Certainly,  doctor." 

"Brewster,  did  he  ever  tell  you  where  his  home  was, — where  his  rela- 
tives now  live?" 

"Yes, — Louisville;  and  I  have  a  packet  which,  should  he  be  killed  or 
mortally  wounded,  I  have  promised  to  unwrap  and  express  to  the  address 
written  within.    I  do  not  now  ev'en  know  what  it  is." 

"Well,  did  he  never  speak  of  having  lived  in  St.  Louis,— having  had 
friends  there?" 

,.  ii  Never  so  much  as  mentioned  the  place,  doctor." 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence,  broken  only  by  the  dismal  moan  of  the 
rising  gale,  the  flap  of  canvas,  and  the  creali  of  straining  guy-ropes.  Far- 
quhar  was  still  thinking  deeply.    At  last  he  looked  up. 

"Captain  Rolfe  has  lodged  with  me  very  serious  charges  against  Ellis, 
and  bases  them  on  the  report  of  professional  detectives.  As  you  know,  I 
gave  Ellis  permission  to  ride  over  to  the  railway  on  Gorham's  report  that 
he  had  some  important  personal  matters  to  look  after.  Has  he  returned 
yet?" 

"He  had  not  up  to  stables,  sir,  but  his  pass  does  not  expire  until  tattoo, 
and  I  almost  hope  he  has  not  started  in  face  of  tliis  wind.  It  looks  like  a 
blizzard  coming." 

"When  did  Rolfe  get  these  reports,  if  I  may  ask?"  queried  Holden. 
"I  sent  a  telegram  day  before  yesterdaj--  to  Mrs.  Holden  that  ought  to  have 
reached  her  that  very  evening, — it  was  to  forestall  any  sensational  news- 
paper story  about  the  major's  wound, — and  I  certainly  looked  for  a  reply  of 
some  kind  yesterday." 

"The  wires  are  down  both  east  and  west,  I'm  told,— cut  by  'friendlies' 
at  the  reservation,  very  probably.  No  despatcli  has  passed  either  way  since 
yesterday,"  answered  the  colonel.  "  Rolfe's  must  have  come  before  that. 
Possibly  we  will  have  later  news  when  the  sergeant  rides  back  to-night.  I 
gave  him  an  order  to  get  any  telegrams  that  might  have  arrived  for  the 
regiment.  What  time  does  the  train  get  in  from  the  East,  do  you  know, 
doctor?" 

"  Somewhere  about  three,  sir  ;  but  I  fear  there  will  be  no  mail  for  us  for 
a  day  or  two.  Old  hands  here  say  it  is  madness  to  face  a  Dakota  blizzard  on 
the  open  prairie,  and  some  of  the  officers  think  we  are  in  for  a  gale,  to  say 
the  least." 

"Well,  Brewster,"  said  the  colonel,  kindly,  "your  statement  is  all  that 
was  needed  to  put  an  end  to  any  idea  that  you  knew  all  about  Ellis  before 
his  enlistment.  Of  course  I  shall  have  to  look  into  Captain  Rolfe's  charges 
against  him  ;  but  say  nothing  about  the  matter  for  the  present." 

The  cavalry  trumpet,  weird  and  fitful  on  the  wings  of  the  gale,  was 
sounding  first  call  for  retreat  as  Brewster  left  the  colonel's  tent  and  started 
down  the  gentle  slope  to  join  his  troop.  Already  the  snow-flakes  were  driving 
almost  horizontally  with  the  biting  wind,  and,  in  the  rapidly-gathering 
gloom,  the  men  came  huddling  from  their  rude  shelters,  and,"bundled  to 
the  ears  in  their  great-coats,  stood  stamping  and  swinging  their  arms,  im- 
patient to  have  roll-call  over  and  done  with.  The  colonel  came  forth  a  mo- 
ment later,  and  together  he  and  Holden  tramped  over  to  the  turf-walled 
structure  in  which  their  wounded  comrade  lay.  The  air  was  now  so  thick 
with  snow  that  objects  a  hundred  yards  distant  were  blurred,  and  those  be- 
yond entirely  obscured.  Holden  softly  unstrapped  and  raised  the  canvas 
flap  and  poked  his  fur-capped  head  within  the  aperture. 

"Sleeping?"  he  queried  of  the  hospital  attendant. 

"  Sleeping  like  a  baby,  sir,"  whispered  the  soldier,  as  he  tiptoed  to  the 


304  ^  SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

entrance.  "  Captain  Hazlett  was  reading  to  him  over  an  hour,  and  then  he 
just  dropped  away,  and  the  captain  left  at  first  call." 

•'That's  capital,"  said  Holden,  turning  to  the  chief.  "  He  has  worried 
so  over  the  effect  the  news  might  have  on  his  wife  that  I  couldn't  get  him 
to  sleep.  Now,  if  we  can  only  tide  him  over  until  morning,  and  if  this 
beastly  gale  will  only  subside,  we'll  have  good  news  for  him." 

"  Well,  don't  let  Rolfe  get  near  him,"  said  Farquhar,  with  a  quiet  smile. 
"There  isn't  a  better  duty  officer  in  all  the  Twelfth,  but  somebody  has  to 
suppress  him  once  in  a  while." 

"  He  ought  to  be  married,"  laughed  Holden  in  reply. 

That  night  when  the  trumpets  pealed  tattoo  the  musicians  braced  their 
backs  against  the  blustering  northwest  and  blew  as  best  they  could,  though 
Boreas  strove  to  silence  their  lustiest  efTort,  and  no  trooper  on  the  windward 
side  could  hear  a  note.  Over  the  whistle  and  howl  of  the  gale,  far  out  on  the 
desolate  prairie,  far  to  the  southeast,  however,  the  stirring,  welcoming,  hope- 
reviving  sti'ain  was  borne  to  the  frozen  ears  of  a  solitary  and  well-nigh  ex- 
hausted trooper,  bidding  him  pluck  up  courage,  rouse  himself  to  renewed 
effort,  and  once  more  plunge  forward  into  the  blackness  of  the  night.  So 
long  as  he  kept  the  gale  in  his  battered  face,  so  long  would  he  be  struggling 
towards  comrades  and  shelter.  Staggering,  stumbling,  sometimes  crawling 
a  few  paces  on  hands  and  knees,  sometimes  turning  his  back  to  the  icy 
blast  and  gasping  for  breath,  sometimes  burying  his  face  in  his  arms, 
sometimes  stretching  those  arms  aloft  to  heaven  and  lifting  up  a  silent 
prayer  for  help,  for  strength,  he  had  struggled  on  afoot  long  after  abandon- 
ing his  fallen  and  crippled  horse.  No  beckoning  light,  no  glimmering  star 
to  guide,  only  the  rude  buffets  of  the  cruel,  pitiless  blast,  the  stinging, 
biting  thrashing  of  the  snow,  pelting  him  like  small  shot,  to  point  the  way, 
yet  savagely  to  beat  him  back, — to  bid  him  face  and  force  them,  yet  furious 
to  overwhelm  and  down.  Weak  and  exhausted,  he  had  well-nigh  aban- 
doned the  last  vestige  of  hope,  and  a  wailing  cry  went  moaning  aloft  from 
his  cracked  and  frozen  lips  :  "  God  in  heaven  guide  me  ;  bear  me  up  ;  give 
me  strength.  It  is  not  for  myself,  but  those  poor  women.  God  in  mercy 
hear  me.     God  in  pity  answer." 

And  over  the  wrath  and  fury  of  the  mad  hurricane,  triumphing  above 
the  shriek  and  howl  of  the  tempest,  ringing  like  the  voice  of  archangel 
through  the  vault  of  the  storm-lashed  skies,  God's  answer  came.  The 
Divine  Pity,  riding,  indeed,  upon  the  storm,  spoke  to  him  in  the  glad, 
thrilling,  familiar  strains  of  the  far-away  trumpets  of  the  Twelfth. 


XI. 

"Who's  there?"  demanded  Brewster  from  beneath  his  robes  and 
blankets,  as  late  that  night  his  name  was  called. 

"  It  is  I,— Holden.    Tumble  up,  man  ;  I  want  you,  quick  !" 

"My  God,  doctor,  is  Berrien  worse?" 

"No,  thank  heaven,  he's  sound  asleep.  Sergeant  Ellis  was  brought  in 
by  the  guard  half  an  hour  ago.  He  fell  exhausted  at  the  lines.  We've  just 
brought  him  to  at  the  hospital  tent,  and  from  what  I  can  make  out — he's 
so  weak  yet — there's  something  back  there  out  on  the  prairie,  an  ambulance 
and  women.  I  ran  over  for  you  as  soon  as  I  could  ;  for  you  probably  know 
him  best." 

"  Be  with  you  in  a  minute,"  shouted  Brewster,  kicking  off  his  moc- 
casins and  struggling  into  his  heavy  boots.  "Lie  still.  Haddock:  you're 
not  wanted,"  he  added.     "  What  time  is  it,  Doc?" 

"Long  after  eleven,— near  midnight,  I  judge.  Come  as  quick  as  you 
can.     I'll  go  right  back." 

In  five  minutes,  in  the  dim  light  of  the  hospital  tent,  Brewster  was 
bending  over  Ellis's  prostrate  form.  Others  had  pulled  off  his  heavy  boots 
and  were  chafing  his  half-frozen  feet.  Holden  had  just  administered  an- 
other dose  of  brandy  ;  but  at  sight  of  Brewster  the  languid,  half-open  eyes 
began  to  gleam  and  the  muscles  of  the  lips  to  twitch. 

"  Stoop  lower,  Brewster :  he  wants  to  speak  to  you,"  said  Holden.  And 
Brewster  inclined  his  ear  almost  to  the  black  moustache. 

Then  with  sudden  bound  he  was  on  his  feet  again. 


A   SOLDIER'S  SECRET.  305 

"What!"  he  cried.  "God  of  heaven,  man!  do  you  mean  it?"  His 
face  was  ashen  in  an  instant,  but  his  eyes  never  quit  their  questioning  gaze. 
Ellis  nodded  vehemently,  striving  again  to  speak. 

"Doctor,  do  you  hear?"  cried  Brewster,  in  mad  dismay.  "He  says 
Mrs.  Berrien  and  Winifred  are  in  the  ambulance  broken  down  at  Wolf 
Creek  !"     And  without  another  word  he  darted  from  the  tent. 

Ten  minutes  more,  a  dozen  men  of  the  "  black  troop"  were  bracing 
cinch-straps,  buckling  throut-latclies,  and  loading  blankets  on  their  aston- 
islied  steeds.  Despite  the  liowling  of  the  gale,  half  the  camp  was  up  and 
astir,  Farquhar  among  the  first.  Brewster  had  his  own  horse  saddled  and 
was  astride  before  any  one  else  was  fairly  dressed,  and  by  this  time  Ellis  had 
recovered  sufficiently  to  speak  and  tell  his  story.  The  train  from  the  East 
came  in  on  time  at  three,  and  he  was  amazed  to  see  Mrs.  Berrien's  face. 
No  one  dreamed  of  her  coming,  for  the  wires  were  down.  The  quarter- 
master ran  to  meet  her,  and  the  sergeant  himself  liastened  to  give  her  good 
news  of  her  husband.  Nothing  would  answer,  though,  but  that  she  must 
go  to  him  at  once.  In  vain  did  Major  Sterrett  plead  witli  her,  saying  it 
took  five  hours  to  drive  over  to  tlie  cantonment  by  day,  and  he  feared  the 
evening  would  be  dark  and  stormy.  Go  she  would  ;  and  the  (quartermaster 
ordered  out  his  own  ambulance  and  best  four-mule  team,  with  his  own 
driver  and  a  couple  of  armed  outriders.  He  gave  the  ladies  hot  tea,  loaded 
in  lots  of  blankets  and  robes,  and  they  started  about  three-thirty,  were  in 
the  teeth  of  the  gale  at  five  o'clock,  in  pitch  darkness  and  off  the  road  at 
six,  and  somewhere  about  seven  the  mules  became  unmanageable  in  the 
blizzard,  whirled  short  around,  and  snapped  off  the  pole.  By  this  time, 
too,  one  outrider  was  lost,  the  other  was  frozen  half  to  death  and  had  been 
drinking  whiskey.  The  driver  was  so  stiff  he  could  hardly  move  hand  or 
foot,  and  he  and  Ellis  had  the  utmost  difficulty  in  cutting  loose  the  mules. 
There  was  every  prospectt  of  their  capsizing  the  wagon  ;  and  they  had  to 
get  the  ladies  out  until  the  beasts  were  free.  Then  he  found  they  were  close 
to  Wolf  Creek,  more  than  half-way,  and  Ellis  determined  to  push  on 
through  to  the  cantonment  for  help,  first  replacing  the  ladies  in  the  covered 
wagon,  wrapping  them  in  furs  and  blankets  and  fastening  the  curtains. 
The  hurricane  increased.  He  and  his  horse  were  both  blinded,  and  at  last 
the  poor  brute  stumbled,  fell  into  a  ravine,  and  could  barely  struggle  to  his 
feet.  Abandoning  his  horse,  Ellis  pushed  on  afoot,  and  reached  camp  he 
knew  not  how.     He  only  remembered  hearing  that  distant  tattoo. 

Farquhar  never  hesitated.  Brewster  never  asked.  Holden  made  him 
and  each  of  his  men  swallow  a  cup  of  steaming  coffee,  and  the  colonel  took 
it  as  a  matter  of  course  that  Curly  Avas  the  very  man  to  go. 

"You  have  brandy  and  blankets  in  plenty?"  he  asked.  "Holden  is 
loading  more  into  the  ambulance,  and  it  follows  at  once.  Off  with  you 
now." 

Impatient  even  of  this  brief  detention,  Brewster  led  his  little  band  of 
troopers  off  into  the  night.  There  was  not  a  man  in  the  Twelfth  that 
wouldn't  have  faced  worse  things  than  a  blizzard  for  old  Berrien's  sake,  and 
as  for  this  it  was  but  a  bagatelle.  "All  we've  got  to  do  is  scud  before  the 
gale,  fellers,"  sung  out  Murphj',  joyously,  as  they  went  cantering  out  of 
camp  and  in  a  second  more  were  lost  to  sight  and  hearing.  Then  came  the 
clatter  and  rattle  of  the  hospital  team,  the  ambulance,  weighed  down  with 
robes  and  blankets  and  a  brace  of  heavy  troopers,  despite  which  ballast  the 
light  vehicle  was  well-nigh  whirled  over  by  the  force  of  the  gale.  And  then 
Farquhar  and  the  doctor  had  time  to  turn  to  Ellis  and  to  think. 

"  They  must  have  got  my  despatch  Tuesday  night  and  left  by  the  earliest 
train,"  said  Holden.  "  How  utterly  outrageous  a  proceeding  !  And  yet  I 
might  have  known  it  of  Mrs.  Berrien." 

Meantime,  there  had  been  dismay  at  the  quartermaster's  dgj^ot.  Ster- 
rett, noting  the  increasing  severity  of  the  gale  at  nightfall,  had  begun  up- 
braiding himself  for  having  allowed  the  ladies  to  persist  in  the  rash  attempt. 
He  had  done  his  best  to  persuade  Mrs.  Berrien  and  to  assure  her  that  the 
major  was  doing  well ;  he  pointed  out  to  her  that  they  had  nothing  but 
rough  shelter  of  log  and  turf  and  canvas  at  the  camp  ;  that  there  was  abso- 
lutely no  place  where  delicately  nurtured  women  could  be  cared  for.  He 
offered  her  and  Miss  Winifred  his  own  warm,  snug,  though  rudely-furnished 
room  at  the  station,  and  ordered  his  chief  clerk  to  clear  out  and  sleep  in  the 
oifi.ee.  He  told  her  how  impossible  it  was  for  him  to  leave  his  DOst  and  his 
Vol.  XLIX.— 20 


306  ^   SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

duties  of  forwarding  supplies,  and  explained  that  there  was  no  officer  to 
properly  escort  theiu.  But  one  by  one  she  had  promptly  overthrown  his 
objections.  Escort?  Here  was  Sergeant  Ellis.  "Wliat  better  could  she 
ask?  As  for  lacli  of  accommodation  at  the  camp,  had  she  not  lived  all  one 
winter  with  her  beloved  Dick  in  a  Kansas  dug-out  just  the  year  after  their 
marriage?  Had  she  not  camped  with  him  on  the  Yellowstone  ? — nursed 
him  in  a  deserted  log  hut  tlirough  the  mountain  fever  in  the  Big  Horn? 
Were  there  not  women,  school-teachers  and  the  agent's  and  trader's  fami- 
lies, there  at  the  agency  ?  What  had  she  to  fear  for  herself  or  Winifred  in 
the  midst  of  the  Twelfth? 

"  But  the  regiment  is  ordered  to  march  to-morrow,"  said  Sterrett.  "  It 
is  an  open  secret  that  the  Indians  have  slipped  away  from  the  troops  along 
the  Cheyenne,  and  there's  the  mischief  to  pay." 

"All  the  more  reason  for  my  being  at  my  husband's  side,"  promptly 
answered  this  army  heroine.  "  Dr.  Holden  will  have  to  go,  and  Dick  will 
be  left  practically  alone.  Winifred  and  I  start  at  once,  even  if  we  have  to 
walk." 

Of  course  that  had  ended  the  matter.  Against  such  determination  he 
was  powerless.  Having  first  done  his  best  to  detain  them,  he  had  then  bent 
all  his  efforts  to  the  duty  of  transportation,  and  now  at  a  late  hour  in  the 
evening  and  in  the  energetic  and  familiar  language  of  the  corral  was  blas- 
pheming the  fate  that  had  led  him  to  yield  his  better  judgment  to  her  imjDortu- 
nity.  Somewhere  about  nine  o'clock  one  of  the  outriders  had  been  dragged 
off  his  horse,  more  dead  than  alive,  and  told  a  pitiful  tale  of  having  been 
driven  before  the  storm,  and  he  didn't  even  know  how  far  they  had  got 
before  he  lost  sight  of  the  ambulance  entirely,  but  was  sure  that  one  and  all 
they  had  lost  the  road  and  now  were  adrift  on  the  prairie.  This  was  bad 
enough  ;  but  at  ten  o'clock  or  thereabouts  the  corral-master  came  in  to  say 
that  the  riderless  horse  of  the  other  man  had  just  arrived  at  the  gate,  and, 
barely  able  to  stagger,  was  led  inside. 

"  Pete  had  a  flask  along,"  said  the  corral-master,  sententiously.  "  That's 
what's  the  matter  with  him." 

Then  Sterrett  could  stand  it  no  longer.  Soldiers  there  were  none  to 
send,  they  were  all  over  the  range  at  the  cantonment  or  beyond  ;  civilians 
were  there  in  plenty,  dozens  of  refugees  from  the  ranches,  dozens  of  rail- 
road-men and  train-hands,  one  or  two  disgusted  correspondents  who  had 
got  the  "tip"  as  to  impending  movements  all  too  late  to  catch  the  luckier 
members  of  that  all-pervading  fi'aternity,  but  who  were  quick  to  realize  the 
"scoop"  they  would  have  in  transmitting  to  their  respective  journals  full 
and  picturesque  details  of  the  Dakota  bUzzard.  It  is  indeed  an  ill  wind 
that  blows  nobody  good. 

Even  though  every  one  told  him  he  could  accomplish  nothing  whatever 
before  daylight,  Sterrett  had  a  little  party  of  stalwart  frontiersmen  duly 
equipped  by  midnight  and  ready  to  start  the  instant  the  gale  should  show 
signs  of  moderating.  Hour  after  hour  it  shrieked  and  howled,  driving  the 
sheets  of  snow  before  it,  sweeping  the  frozen  prairie  clean  as  a  floor,  but 
whirling  dense  white  clouds  into  every  slieltered  gulch  and  ravine,  settling 
the  drifts  in  the  lee  of  every  stack  and  shed  and  building  at  the  railway- 
station,  where,  "dead"  and  abandoned,  lay  the  engine  of  the  East-bound 
train,  the  passengers  huddling  for  warmth  into  a  single  car  and  cheerfully 
discussing  the  propriety  of  using  the  other  for  fire-wood. 

And  then,  before  the  first  faint  glimmer  of  dawn,  as  though  spent  with 
its  own  violence,  the  gale  began  to  die.  The  clouds  scudding  southeastward 
drew  aside,  uncurtaining  the  placid  heavens,  wliere  the  stars  were  faintly 
gleaming  and  then  twinkling  out  of  sight.  Soon  in  a  blaze  of  glory  and 
triumph  the  sun  rose  slowly  over  the  far-distant  bluffs  and  looked  down 
upon  the  scene  of  wrath  and  desolation  wrought  by  rude  Boreas  in  the  con- 
queror's absence ;  and  just  then,  too,  there  hove  in  sight  a  battered  little 
squad  of  troopers  on  spent  and  jaded  steeds,  and  the  sergeant  in  command 
rode  breast-deep  into  the  drift  at  the  south  entrance  of  Sterrett's  office  and 
yelled  over  the  intervening  shield  of  snow  the  stunning  question, — 

"Did  the  ladies  get  back  all  right?  We  can't  find  the  ambulance 
anywhere  along  the  Wolf." 


A   SOLDIER'S  SECRET.  307 


XII. 

Before  quitting  the  ambulance  and  its  precious  freight,  Ellis  had  made 
such  examination  of  the  neighborhood  as  was  possible  in  the  thick  dark- 
ness, and  discovered  that  they  were  close  to  the  edge  of  a  narrow,  winding 
ravine  with  abruptly-sloping  banks,  and  it  was  in  here  that  tliose  sagacious 
mules  had  sought  shelter  from  the  force  of  the  blast.  The  ambulauce  was 
standing  on  a  veritable  ridge,  exposed  to  the  full  furj^  of  the  gale,  the  slope 
to  the  rapid-running  Wolf  just  in  front,  the  ravine  to  the  right  rear. 
Shouting  to  the  ladies  to  fear  nothing,  he  had  no  difficulty,  when  aided  by 
the  driver,  in  starting  the  wheels,  and  the  instant  the  velilcle  was  partially 
turned  into  the  track  of  the  storm  it  was  blown  backwards  down  into  the 
soft  bed  of  snow  already  thick  and  deep.  Here,  under  the  lee  of  the  banks, 
the  stout  wagon  was  comparatively  sheltered,  for  the  top  of  the  canvas 
cover  was  just  a  trifle  below  the  general  level  of  the  prairie.  The  mules, 
startled  from  their  fancied  security  by  the  rattle  of  wheels  and  canvas  as 
the  ambulance  was  run  down  the  slope  into  their  midst,  seized  with  one  of 
their  unaccountable  panics  tore  blindly  away  up  the  farther  bank  and  out 
upon  the  storm-swept  level  beyond.  Then  in  the  whirling  cloud  of  snow 
Ellis  had  remounted,  shouted  again  a  few  encouraging  words  to  the  ladies 
within,  assuring  them  he  and  his  sturdy  troop-horse  would  have  no  diffi- 
culty in  reacliing  camp  and  bringing  aid,  urging  them  meantime  to  keep 
snugly  bundled  in  their  robes,  and  witli  Mrs.  Berrien's  brave  voice  and 
cheery  "God  speed  you,  sergeant!"  ringing  in  his  ears  he  rode  gallantly 
away,  forded  the  shallow  stream  at  the  mouth  of  the  coulee,  and  then, 
facing  the  gale,  spui'red  fortli  upon  his  perilous  mission.  The  driver  and 
the  already  somnolent  Pete,  with  what  was  left  of  the  contents  of  the  de- 
pleted flask,  crawled  into  the  snow  bed  beneath  the  wagon-body,  rolled 
themselves  into  their  joint  stock  of  robes  and  blankets,  and  prepared  to 
spend  a  comfortable  night.     It  was  an  old  story  to  both. 

But,  despite  all  the  driver's  efforts  on  the  way,  the  gale  had  forced  them 
far  to  the  right  of  the  main  road  and  those  which  paralleled  it,  the  only 
ones  at  all  familiar  to  the  Twelfth,  and  when  Brewster  and  his  little  squad 
reached  the  ford,  along  towards  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  they  sought  in 
vain  in  every  ravine  and  break, — shouted,  flred  their  carbines,  and  sounded 
their  trumpet,  all  to  no  purpose.  Not  an  answering  cry  rewarded  their 
efforts.  From  Ellis's  description,  Brewster  knew  that  the  ladies  were  so 
muffied  in  furs  that  within  their  canvas  shelter  they  could  hardly  suffer 
greatly  from  the  cold.  He  was  assured  that  the  driver  and  Pete  were  with 
them,  also  well  provided  with  robes  and  blankets,  and  that  tliey  were  in  no 
immediate  danger  of  freezing  ;  but  he  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  the 
long,  weary  waiting,  the  dread  anxiety,  the  darkness,  isolation  in  all  that 
howling  wilderness.  He  could  picture  Winifred  nestled  in  her  mother's 
arms,  wondering,  wondering,  as  the  hours  dragged  by,  when,  if  ever, 
human  aid  would  come  to  their  relief.  At  four  o'clock  he  and  his  party 
had  searched  and  scouted  for  half  a  dozen  miles  up  and  down  the  valley. 
Some  of  his  best  and  stanchest  men  were  giving  out,  and  these,  with  Ser- 
geant Brooks,  lie  ordered  to  push  along  with  the  gale  and  seek  news  and 
shelter  at  the  station.  Three  others  he  posted  near  the  main  crossing  of  the 
Wolf,  under  the  lee  of  a  little  bluff,  where  they  and  their  horses  speedily 
stamped-  a  hole  in  the  snow-drifts  around  the  hospital  ambulance  and 
huddled  for  warmth,— fires  they  could  not  light,  even  had  there  been  a 
vestige  of  fuel, — and  then,  with  three  undaunted  campaigners  at  his  back, 
he  had  once  again  turned  down-stream,  following  its  wanderings  in  the 
darkness  and  feeling  for  ravines  he  could  not  see  along  the  southern  bank. 
Time  and  again  they  dismounted  and  ran  beside  their  horses  to  restore  cir- 
culation to  the  numbed  and  stiffened  feet  and  fingers.  Time  and  again 
they  plunged  waist-deep  into  drifts,  and  the  horses  floundered  to  their 
girths  in  the  powdery  snow.  At  last  Brewster  noted  that  here  and  there 
far  in  the  nortlnvestern  skies  the  stars  were  beginning  to  peep  ;  the  clouds 
were  driving  away,  the  dawn  was  nigh,  the  hurricane  abating.  Broader 
and  brighter  the  daylight  stole  over  the  storm-swept  prairie,  streaked  here 
and  there  with  fleecy,  winding  veins,  and  when  at  last  the  sun  arose  in  its 
unclouded  splendor  the  gale  had  died  away  to  a  mere  ghost  of  its  furious 
self,  and  they  rubbed  the  icy  fringe  from  their  battered  eyelids  and  gazed 


308  ^   SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

long  and  wistfully  up  and  down  that  shallow,  winding  valley,  all  heaped 
and  tumbled  with  the  driven  snow,  and  saw  not  a  sign  of  tliose  whom  they 
had  rushed  to  save. 

Never  for  an  instant  did  Brewster  relax  his  efforts.  Giving  each  of  his 
men  a  pull  at  the  flasl?,  he  selected  little  Murphy  as  about  tlie  most  compact 
and  certainly  tlie  liglitest  of  tiie  trio,  and  bade  him  make  liis  way  to  camp 
and  tell  the  colonel  that  up  to  sunrise  no  vestige  of  the  lost  ones  had  been 
found,  and  suggest  that  additional  parties  be  sent  out  at  once. 

"Tell  somebody  to  bring  my  tield-glass,"  he  added,  as  Murphy  was 
about  to  ride  away.  "  If  I  had  dreamed  we  would  have  found  nothing  of 
tlie  ambulance  until  this  time,  I  never  should  have  left  it.  Good  luck  to 
you  now,  corporal.     Ride  as  lively  as  you  can." 

Murphy  turned  promptly  away,  spurred  his  unwilling  horse  tlirough 
the  ice  into  the  black  and  racing  waters  of  the  Wolf,  and  was  presently  fol- 
lowing a  little  break  in  the  north  side  which  led  by  a  more  gradual  ascent 
to  the  prairie  beyond. 

*'  Now,  men,  one  of  you  ride  back  towards  the  party  at  the  ford  ;  poke 
into  every  ravine  to  your  left, — they're  all  full  of  snow  :  it  may  be  the  am- 
bulance is  so  deep  in  the  drift  they  could  hear  no  sound.  If  you  find  any- 
thing, the  faintest  trace,  ride  up  on  the  prairie  and  circle  your  horse  to  the 
left. — Morse,  you  come  with  me." 

"Beg  pardon,  lieutenant,  I  think  Murphy  sees  something  now,"  said' 
Morse,  indicating  the  farther  shore  with  a  nod  of  his  fur-covered  head. 
Whirling  eagerly  about,  Brewster  was  surprised  to  see  his  little  Irishman,  a 
hundred  yards  or  so  away,  crouching  low  on  his  horse's  back,  still  in  the 
ravine  and  up  to  his  girth  in  snow,  and  peering  cautiously  eastward,  his 
eyes  just  level  with  the  bank.  Then  he  was  plainly  seen  to  signal.  In  an 
instant  Brewster  and  his  men  were  plunging  into  the  rapid  stream,  crushing 
the  ice  that  skirted  the  shores  and  bounding  out  upon  the  frozen  ground  be- 
yond. Again  Murphy  held  forth  a  hand, — a  warning  gesture,  not  a  beckon- 
ing one.  "Keep  down,  keep  down,"  he  signalled;  and,  wondering,  the 
little  party  of  troopers  cautiously  followed  into  the  ravine. 

"What  do  you  see?"  queried  Brewster,  eager  and  agitated. 

"  Upon  my  soul,  sir,  I  wish  I  knew  ;  but  it's  more  like  Indians  than 
an,ything  I  can  think  of." 

"Indians?  where  away?"  And,  with  a  wild  fear  at  heart,  Brewster 
gazed  over  the  bank  in  the  direction  indicated. 

"Indians,  and  coming  this  way,  sir,  or  I'm  a  tenderfoot,"  muttered 
Morse,  a  man  who  had  served  in  the  Twelfth  for  many  a  year. 

"  What  on  earth  can  they  be  doing  so  far  south  of  the  agency?  You 
don't  think  any  oF  the  hostiles  have  got  down  this  way?" 

"They're  all  hostiles,  sir,  when  there's  only  three  or  four  ag'in'  them. 
It  don't  matter  whether  these  are  from  the  agency  or  the  Bad  Lands  now, 
if  they  can  catch  a  white  man  a-napping,  and  something  has  brought  them 
out  here." 

"  My  God,  man  !  you  don't  suppose  they've  heard  of  the  ambulance?" 

"  They  hear  things  quicker  than  we  do,  lieutenant.  Day  or  night,  calm 
or  storm,  those  fellows  can  all  around  beat  us  in  getting  news." 

"And  they  are  coming  from  the  northeast,  lieutenant,"  chimed  in 
Murphy.  "  Tliat  means  if  they  are  from  the  villages  near  the  agency 
they've  circled  around  our  people." 

Breathless  the  little  party  watched  the  coming  dots.  The  stream  bore 
to  the  northeast  after  a  deej)  bend  about  half  a  mile  away,  and  on  the 
farther  bank,  moving  nearly  parallel  with  the  valley,  about  a  dozen  dark 
objects  could  be  seen  moving  at  rapid  lope,  the  springing,  tireless  gait 
of  the  Indian  pony.  Ponies  they  were  unquestionably,  and  each  with  his 
rider.  Every  moment  brought  them  nearer  and  nearer,  until,  as  they 
spread  out  in'extended  order  across  the  level  surface,  it  was  possible  to  count 
their  number,— eleven  ;  possible  to  note  that  every  now  and  then  some  one 
of  the  number  in  front  or  on  the  flanks  would  rein  in  suddenly  and  circle 
round  and  stoop,  as  though  examining  tracks  upon  the  prairie. 

"  It  is  not  i)ossible  the  ambulance  can  have  got  so  far  over  as  that," 
muttered  Brewster.  "  It  is  not  possible  that  they  can  have  heard  of  it  in 
all  that  fearful  storm.     Why,  Morse,  it's  madness  to  think  of  it !" 

"  I  don't  know  how  far  the  team  may  have  been  driven  out  that  way, 
sir,  but  the  blizzard  came  from  the  northwest,— from  their  left  front ;  it  beat 


A   SOLDIER'S  SECRET.  309 

across  their  path  all  the  way,  and  mules  won't  face  it ;  and  if  it  isn't  the 
ambulance  they're  after,  what  can  it  be?" 

"  My  God,  if  we  only  knew  where  it  was  !"  groaned  Brewster.  "  Come 
what  may,  men,  we've  got  to  stand  'twixt  it  and  those  scoundrels.  Here, 
Murphy,  lively  now,  slip  back  down  into  the  valley  and  ride  for  all  you're 
worth  to  the  ford  and  bring  tliose  fellows  back  with  you,  every  man  of 
them.  Tell  them  to  keep  under  the  bank  and  ride  like  hell.  OIF  with  you 
now."  And  this  time  there  was  no  recall :  Murphy  was  out  of  sight  in  a 
flash. 

Nearer  and  nearer  rode  the  savage  horsemen,  now  about  a  mile  away. 
Already  Morse  and  his  silent  comrade  had  swung  their  carbines  out  of  their 
leathern  buckets,  thrust  a  cartridge  in  tlie  cliamber  and  loosened  others  in 
the  woven  thimbles.  Brewster  never  for  an  instant  quit  his  gaze,  but  his 
hand  had  stolen  back  and  loosed  the  flap  of  the  holster  at  his  hip.  The 
movements  of  the  Indians  had  puzzled  him  :  they  were  riding  not  as 
though  moving  on  some  point  already  determined,  but  rather  as  if  search- 
ing, feeling  their  way.  Every  now  and  then,  too,  some  of  their  immber. 
cantered  to  the  edge  of  the  bank  and  seemed  to  scrutinize  the  valley. 

"  Snow-drifts  are  too  deep  and  plentiful  in  there,  around  that  bend,  sir. 
That's  why  they're  up  on  the  i)rairie." 

Brewster's  heart  seemed  almost  to  stand  still.  All  on  a  sudden  the 
leaders  swerved  ;  the  blanketed  riders  could  be  seen  bending  low  and  over 
as  they  swung  their  nimble  steeds  in  circle  to  tlie  riglit.  And  then,  then, 
an  instant  more,  and,  tossing  the  powdery  snow  all  in  a  fleecy  white  cloud, 
there  came  tearing  up  out  of  tlie  depths  of  some  unseen  coulee  a  lively  herd 
of  Indian  ponies  rejoicing  in  tlieir  unwonted  freedom  and  determined  not 
to  be  herded  back  to  slavery  without  a  struggle. 

It  was  hard  to  repress  the  shout  of  joy  tliat  sprang  to  the  soldiers'  lips. 
Then  it  wasn't  the  ambulance,  after  all ;  notiiing  but  this  frolicsome  band 
of  rascals  that,  after  breaking  away  from  the  Indian  boys  the  evening  be- 
fore, had  doubtless  been  driven  before  the  gale,  denumding  the  sending 
forth  of  quite  a  party  of  the  young  men  in  search,  even  before  the  storm 
had  fully  abated.  For  a  moment  the  troopers  forgot  their  mission  as  they 
watched  the  chase.  Fresh  and  unhampered  by  weiglit  of  any  kind,  the 
scurrying  band  came  sweeping  along  the  edge  of  the  distant  bluff,  following 
an  active,  mischievous  leader  and  leaving  their  jaded  pursuers  far  behind. 
Tlie  Indian  knows  too  much  to  chase  a  running  horse  ;  he  leaves  him  to 
his  own  devices,  well  knowing  lie  will  more  (piickly  stop  when  unpursued 
and  can  then  more  readily  be  headed  off  and  turned  l)ack  to  the  ways  he 
should  go.  On  came  the  nimble  herd,  full  tilt,  towards  the  eH)ow  in  the 
shallow  valley  where  a  broad  white  streak  told  of  deep  drifted  snow,  and 
there  the  leader  veered  to  the  left  and  south  and  would  doubtless  have 
stretched  away  at  racing  speed  on  that  course,  but  for  one  young  warrior 
on  a  dun-colored  pony,  who,  with  the  speed  of  the  wind,  came  darting  out 
across  the  level  surface  beyond,  gamely,  skilfully  heading  him.  Around 
went  the  leader  once  more  in  wide  circle  westward,  around  the  southern- 
most edge  of  the  fleecy  drift,  and  then,  with  thunder  of  hoofs,  the  whole 
troop  went  bounding  away  to  the  west  without  a  living  soul  to  interpose 
between  them  and  the  bald,  rolling  heights  at  the  far  horizon,  miles  and 
miles  away. 

"  Go  it,  pony  !  I'm  glad  to  see  a  redskin  done  for  once  !"  was  Morse's 
jubilant  shout.  And  then,  sudden  and  sharp,  "  Good  God  !  What's  that? 
Lieutenant,  look  !" 

Not  six  hundred  yards  away  now,  the  little  band  of  ponies,  following 
their  spirited  leader,  had  suddenly  halted  at  the  very  edge  of  some  dip  or 
sink  in  the  prairie  that  lay  to  the  southeast  of  the  snowy  rift  in  which  the 
troopers  were  crouching,  still  hidden,  they  and  their  horses,  from  the  sharp 
eyes  of  the  chasing  Indians.  Then  as  suddenly,  tossing  high  their  scraggy 
manes,  as  though  with  one  accord,  the  nimble  brutes  whirled  to  the  south, 
their  leader  indulging  in  a  fine  flourish  of  heels  as  he  sped  away.  And 
now  Morse  lay  against  the  bank  pointing  eagerh^  to  a  couple  of  black 
objects  startlingly  outlined  on  the  glistening  \vhite  of  the  snow,  two  objects 
that  came  plunging  up  from  the  invisible  depths  of  the  hollow,  struggling 
breast-deep  in  the  drifts,  and  at  last  reached  the  edge  of  the  prairie,  and, 
followed  instantly  by  another  couple,  with  their  long  ears  erect,  with  out- 
stretched neck  and  eager  brayings  clattered  away  in  pursuit  of  the  herd. 


3i0  ^   SOLblER'S  SECRt:'^. 

Brewster  knew  them  at  a  glance, — Sterrett's  ambulance  mules.  Indeed, 
the  broken  pole  was  still  dangling  between  the  two  in  rear  and  bounding 
with  them  over  the  frozen  turf. 

And  that  swerve,  that  sudden  halt  and  turn  to  the  south  end,  had  cost 
the  band  their  liberty.  Darting  along  abreast  of  them,  but  nearly  half  a 
mile  away  to  the  south,  the  warrior  on  the  dun-colored  pony  had  shot  far 
out  beyond  them,  and  now,  sweeping  around  in  wide  circle  to  his  right, 
rode  between  them  and  tlie  broad  wastes  to  the  west.  Two  other  Indians 
were  circling  in  their  front,  barring  the  way  to  the  low  hills  to  the  south. 
Others  still,  straggling  far  out  eastward,  reined  up  so  as  not  to  interfere  with 
the  "  rounding"  of  the  herd,  and  in  a  moment  or  two  more  these  three  ex- 
perts had  turned  their  runaway  property  in  wide  sweep  back  into  the 
shining  track  of  the  sun,  and  in  very  few  minutes  the  matter  was  settled  ; 
the  ponies  were  sulkily  trotting  along  the  bank  beyond  the  bend,  headed 
for  home  and  hard  work  again,  with  tlie  ambulance  mules  braying  at  their 
heels.  Here  the  younger  Indians,  the  boys,  took  charge,  and  from  the 
distant  slopes,  from  south  and  east  and  from  the  prairie  to  the  west,  the 
others  came  cantering  towards  that  sharp  angle  half  a  mile  away  and 
gathered  in  eager  consultation  about  one  who  seemed  to  be  their  leader. 

All  this,  and  much  more,  Brewster  and  his  men  were  watching  with 
bounding  pulses,  in  breathless  excitement,  Brewster  with  feelings  of  min- 
gled hope  and  despair.  Now  he  knew  that  the  ambulance  must  be  some- 
where near  at  hand,  possibly  up  that  long  ravine  on  tlie  south  side  that 
slanted  in  from  the  prairie  not  a  liundred  yards  away  below  them.  Surely 
the  banks  looked  as  though  there  were  a  good  ford  at  that  point.  Might 
not  that  be  the  very  one  of  which  Ellis  spoke  ?  Now,  if  it  were  but  pos- 
sible to  drop  back  out  of  the  drifts  in  which  they  were  liiding  and  recross 
the  stream,  they  might  yet  creep  unobserved  into  the  mouth  of  that  gully 
and  feel  their  way  afoot  until,  somewhere  in  the  snow,  they  came  upon,  as 
he  now  felt  sure  they  must,  tlie  storm-bound  wagon  with  its  precious  con- 
tents. From  their  crouching-place  it  was  impossible  to  see  across  the  ridge 
that  separated  them  from  the  ravine  referi'ed  to  ;  but  to  the  southeast  the 
prairie  lay  before  them,  and  the  keenest  eye  could  detect  no  sign  of  hollow 
between  that  which  lay  so  near  them  and  that  from  which  those  vagabond 
mules  had  emerged  far  out  upon  the  plain.  Somehow,  Brewster  felt  certain 
that  now  at  last  he  was  actually  within  pistol-shot  of  the  ambulance,  within 
speaking-distance,  almost,  of  the  girl  he  so  fondly  loved,  whose  very  life  at 
this  instant  depended  not  only  on  his  courage,  but  also  on  his  judgment. 
One  false  move  would  ruin  all. 

So  long  as  the  Indians  kept  up  their  powwow  at  the  bend,  so  long  was 
Winifred  safe.  Tlie  longer  they  delayed  the  nearer  would  it  bring  Murphy 
and  the  men  from  the  main  crossing  three  miles  away  vip-stream.  Then, 
six  to  six,  he  could  laugh  at  the  Sioux.  But  any  one  who  knew  Indians 
at  all  knew  that  the  discovery  of  the  mules  would  only  set  them  to  work  to 
find  the  snow  camp  from  which  the  animals  had  broken  away.  Ay,  even 
as  these  things  flashed  tlirough  his  mind,  Brewster  could  see  that  they  were 
signalling  "halt"  to  the  herd-guard,  and  that  two  of  the  youngsters  were 
lashing  their  ponies  out  in  front  of  the  band  and  gradually  bringing  it  to  a 
stand-still.  Almost  at  the  same  moment,  too,  those  in  consultation  sepa- 
rated, three  riding  swiftly  after  the  herd,  while  the  other  three,  slowly  and 
cautiously,  began  to  advance  towards  tlie  hollow  whence  the  mules  had 
emerged.     Evidently  they  expected  to  find  the  white  man's  wagon  there. 

"Now  is  our  time,  men,"  muttered  Brewster.  "  Quick  !  off  with  your 
side-lines  and  double  them  about  your  horses'  forefeet,  so  that  they  can't 
even  hobble  out  of  the  drift.  Keep  them  here.  Take  your  lariat  and 
hopple  my  horse,  one  of  you.  Throw  him  if  need  be.  I'll  watch  those 
beggars  down-stream.  Ah,  I  thought  so,"  he  muttered  :  "they've  grabbed 
the  mules  and  are  examining  the  harness  ;  that  will  tell  them  easily  enough 
they  were  cut  loose  after  breaking  the  pole.  Quick,  men  !  throw  snow  by 
the  bushel  all  over  your  horses.  Roll  in  it  yourselves.  Get  all  the  white 
on  you  can  ;  then  run  down  the  gully  as  soon  as  you  have  your  horses 
hidden,  and  watch  for  my  signal.  The  moment  I  say  go,  bend  double 
and  scamper  to  the  ice  yonder,  then  make  for  the  bluffs.  I'll  follow 
instantly." 

Meekly  the  two  troop-horses,  after  having  been  led  to  a  deeper  point 
down  the  coulee,  bent  their  heads  and  submitted  to  the  lashing  together  of 


A   SOLDIER'S  SECRET.  311 

their  fore-feet,  but  Brewster's  "Black  Jack"  was  of  different  mould.  He 
would  not  yield. 

"  Over  with  him,  Morse.  No  time  to  lose  now.  Lash  him  tight,  or 
he'll  break  away,"  called  Brewster.  And  poor  Jack's  plunging  availed 
him  nothiug.  A  moment  more,  with  a  dismal  groan,  he  was  on  his  side  in 
the  soft,  cold  bed,  the  lariat  was  being  lashed  and  knotted  so  that  even 
furious  struggles  could  not  free  him,  and  then,  to  add  to  the  indignity,  his 
erstwhile  friends  and  comrades  were  heaping  new  insult  and  a  storm  of 
snow  upon  him.    Jack  couldn't  understand  it. 

"Ready,  men  !  They're  just  peeping  over  into  the  hollow  now.  The 
moment  they're  fairly  in  it,  I  give  the  word." 

Twenty — thirty  seconds  of  breathless  silence.  Then  a  quick  gesture  ;  a 
quick,  low-toned,  but  imperative  "Go  !" 

Go  they  did,  skimming  over  the  pool  above  the  rapids,  leaping  the 
narrow  chasm  where  the  black  waters,  dancing  and  frothing,  had  defied 
the  ice  king  ;  ducking  under  the  opposite  bank  ;  carbines  in  hand,  revolvers 
at  the  hip,  cartridges  gleaming  in  every  belt ;  and  after  them,  leaping,  yet 
bending  low,  went  Brewster.  Another  moment,  and  they  reached  the 
mouth  of  the  ravine,  burst  through  the  powdery  drift,  and  then,  Brewster 
leading,  eyes  everywhere,  almost  on  all  fours  they  scurried  along  half-way 
up  the  opposite  slope,  keeping  well  under  the  crest  and  just  at  the  edge  of 
the  deep  drifts  to  their  right.  Fifty— sixty  yards  they  made  their  rapid 
way,  and  then  around  a  little  bend  and  among  great  heaps  and  mounds  of 
glistening,  shimmering  white  there  rose  an  odd-shaped  heap,  only  a  trifle 
higher  than  its  fellows,  and  from  the  midst  of  it  there  projected  a  dingy, 
whity-brown  canvas,  slanting  to  the  north,  and,  with  a  cry  of  delight  half 
stifled  on  his  lips,  Carroll  Brewster  leaped  into  the  snow,  floundered  to  his 
armpits  in  the  powdery  drift,  and  in  a  moment  more  had  forced  his  way 
through  the  fragile  wliite  wall  before  him,  had  seized  the  liandle  of  the 
door,  and  Winifred  Berrien,  starting  from  her  mother's  clasping  arms, 
blinded  for  an  instant  by  the  glare  of  radiant  sunshine,  barely  able  as  yet 
to  rally  from  the  stupor-iike  slumber  into  which  she  had  fallen,  heard  her 
name  called  in  the  joyous  tones  she  knew  so  well,  and  saw  her  lover,  a 
stalwart,  glowing,  rejoicing  young  snow-god,  all  sparkling  with  the  white 
crystals,  all  glistening  in  the  glorious  Ijeanis,  gazing  upon  her  with  a  love- 
light  in  his  brave  blue  eyes  that  brought  instant  glow  to  her  own  wan  and 
pallid  cheek.  And  then,  before  she  could  even  speak,  before  her  mother 
could  emerge  fi'om  the  enfolding  robes,  a  shout  was  heard,  then  the  sudden 
ring  of  a  rifle-shot,  followed  instantly  by  another,  the  spat  as  of  a  whip- 
lash on  the  canvas  top.  Something  tore  its  way  through  roof  and  front 
with  spiteful  "  zip." 

"  Down  !  down  upon  the  floor  !  both  of  you,  quick  !"  shouted  Brewster, 
as  he  slammed  the  door,  and  the  next  instant  they  heard  the  order  in  his 
ringing  tones,  half  stifled  in  the  snow,  "  Fire,  men  !  Keep  'em  off!  Fire  !" 
They  heard  the  quick  bang !  bang  !  of  carbines  close  at  hand,  the  prompt 
response  of  rifles  distant  as  were  the  first,  the  whistle  of  lead  through  the 
icy  air,  the  shrill  yells  of  battling  Indians,  the  furious  gallop  of  bounding 
hoofs.  Everywhere  to  their  front  the  rapid  fire  increased.  More  yells, 
partly  of  triumph,  partly  summoning  additional  warriors  to  the  spot,  then 
the  muffled  beat  of  coming  hoofs,  and,  in  the  midst  of  it  all,  Brewster's 
stern  voice,  calm  and  steady  :  "  Aim  well,  men,  but  fire  lively.  Don't  let 
them  get  again  so  close  as  to  have  a  shot  at  the  wagon.  Watch  that  above 
all."  .Two — three  minutes  the  sound  of  battle  raged  about  them,  increasing 
at  the  front.  A  soldier  voice  was  heard  to  say,  "There's  more  of  them 
coming,  sir.  You  can  see  them  down  there  to  the  east."  And  Mrs.  Berrien's 
heart  grew  faint  with  fear.  Winifred  had  buried  her  face  upon  her  breast 
and  closed  her  ears  to  the  horrid  sounds.  And  then,  all  on  a  sudden,  the 
yells  of  the  charging  Indians  seemed  to  grow  fainter,  then  sounds  of  dismay 
arose  among  them,  then  the  cries  were  drowned  in  the  clatter  of  iron-shod 
hoofs  and  the  chorus  of  soldier  cheers.  Murphy  and  his  little  squad  came 
whirling  up  the  bank,  and  Mrs.  Berrien's  heart  poured  forth  in  praise  and 
thanksgiving  at  the  joyous,  Milesian  hail : 

"  To  hell  wid  'em,  fellers  !  Sure  all  B  throop's  eomin', — not  two  miles 
behind  I" 


312  ^  SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

XIII. 

There  was  silence  and  anxiety  in  the  long  range  of  winter  camps  about 
the  agency.  The  Twelfth  were  gone,  nobody  knew  just  where  ;  but  over 
to  the  north,  over  towards  those  frowning  "  Bad  Lands,"— all  the  more  wild 
and  treacherous  now  that  the  snow  had  tilled  every  rift  and  crevice,  for  the 
jagged  surface  was  one  mass  of  pitfalls, — other  battalions  of  horse  were 
also  gone,  and  the  vigilant  watch  over  those  Indians  still  clustering  about 
their  old  haunts  in  the  valley  was  redoubled.  The  heavier  guns  of  the 
fleld-battery  commanded  the  smoky  lodges,  the  lighter  pieces  were  away 
with  the  cavalry.  The  infantry,  muffled  to  their  eyebrows,  manned  the 
rifle-pits  and  guard-line  and  threw  their  sheltering  wings  over  the  deserted 
camps.  For  good  or  for  ill,  the  crisis  was  at  hand.  Whatsoever  doubt  had 
existed  as  to  the  almost  universal  hostility  of  the  Sioux  was  banished  by 
the  events  of  the  preceding  week.  The  attempted  ambush  of  Sergeant 
Ellis  of  Berrien's  advance-guard,  the  attack  upon  the  scouts  and  couriers 
at  the  Porcupine,  and,  lastly,  the  affair  at  the  Wolf,  in  which  Brewster  a 
second  time  had  gained  distinction,  all  pointed  unerringly  to  one  conclu- 
sion :  whatsoever  might  be  their  assurances  to  officialshigh  in  rank,  to 
agents  whose  power  would  be  at  an  end  were  war  to  ensue,  to  self-consti- 
tuted framers  of  public  oj^inion,  every  soldier  on  the  spot  knew,  and  well 
knew,  that  the  Indians  would  be  peaceable  only  in  presence  of  a  formi- 
dable force  of  blue-coats,  but  that  nothing  but  ambush  and  massacre  awaited 
the  whites  who  ventured  forth  unguarded.  Up  to  this  moment,  however, 
of  all  those  gathered  at  the  scene  the  only  troops  which  had  had  actual 
collision  with  the  Sioux  were  of  Berrien's  battalion. 

Far  away  south  at  the  Pawnee,  old  Kenyon  had  been  doing  his  utmost 
to  still  the  anxious  fears  among  tlie  famiUes  of  the  absent  soldiers.  There 
had  been  lively  excitement  when  the  papers  arrived  giving  sensational 
details  of  Berrien's  wound  and  of  the  affair  at  the  Porcupine,  but  it  was  as 
nothing  to  that  whicli  prevailed  over  the  tidings  of  the  imminent  peril  in 
which  Mrs.  Berrien  and  Winifred  had  been  placed.  That  it  was  just  like 
Mrs.  Berrien  to  insist  on  joining  her  wounded  husband  at  once  was  con- 
ceded by  all,  but  ojDinions  differed  as  to  the  propriety  of  her  course  in  taking 
Winifred  with  her.  This  the  major  decided  by  prompt  assertion  that  Miss 
Berrien  doubtless  refused  to  be  left  behind.  '"And,  being  a  very  lovely 
blending  of  the  characteristics  of  both  her  parents,"  said  he,  "it  would 
have  been  decidedly  unlike  Miss  Berrien  to  have  stayed  at  home." 

And  then  came  the  dread  news  that  a  great  band  from  the  northeast, 
reinforced  by  a  reckless  gang  of  fanatical  young  ghost-dancers  from  the 
Bad  Lands,  had  broken  away,  and  that  all  the  regiments  had  gone  to  head 
them  off.  Far,  without  a  fight,  they  could  not  go.  The  question  was 
which  regiment  would  be  the  first  to  meet  them.  Then  the  next  night's 
mail  brought  the  next  day's  papers,  and  the  Twelfth,  having  swung  loose 
and  being  absent  from  the  neighborhood  whence  were  derived  the  items 
on  which  correspondents  based  their  reports  and  editors  their  comments, 
shared  the  usual  fate  of  the  absentee,  and,  having  sustained  the  only  casual- 
ties and  inflicted  the  only  punishments  yet  heard  of  about  the  agency,  was 
now  coming  in  for  its  share  of  the  "  foujours  torV^  to  which  it  was,  of  course, 
justly  entitled.  Kenyon  first  glared  at  and  then  exploded  over  a  despatch 
which  read  somewhat  as  follows  : 

"All  hope  of  bloodless  solution  of  the  difficulty  is  now  at  an  end. 
Even  the  most  peaceably  disposed  among  the  reservation  Indians  are 
furious  over  what  they  do  not  hesitate  to  term  the  slaughter  of  their  clans- 
men in  the  three  alfairs  that  have  recently  occurred  ;  and  it  is  an  open 
secret  that,  at  general  head-quarters,  the  gravest  anno,yance  is  felt  over  the 
total  overthrow  of  carefully-laid  plans,  all  caused  by  the  injudicious  con- 
duct of  certain  hot-headed  "officers  of  cavalry.  The  friends  of  White  Wolf, 
the  principal  '  brave'  shot  by  Major  Berrien's  troopers,  declare  that  he  and 
those  with  him  were  friendly  and  only  striving  to  reach  the  major  with  the 
news  that  couriers  were  coming,  hoping  thereby  to  earn  something  to  eat, 
for  they  were  cold  and  hungry,  when  they  were  fired  on  without  warning, 
and,  even  while  making  signals  of  peace  and  friendship,  White  Wolf  was 
slain.  Then  the  Brul6s  who  were  with  them  could  not  be  restrained,  and 
attacked  the  couriers  in  revenge.  As  for  the  affair  at  Wolf  Creek  after  the 
blizzard,  there  is  unspoken  denunciation  among  the  Indians,  and  the 


A  SOLDIER'S  SEQRET.  313 

'  damnation  of  faint  praise'  in  other  quarters,  of  the  conduct  of  a  cavalry 
officer  present.  The  Indians  declare  they  had  gone  out  only  to  gather  up 
their  ponies.  The  sight  of  tlie  mules  told  them  there  must  be  an  ambu- 
lance stalled  somewhere  in  tlie  drifts,  and  they  were  eagerly  searching  for 
it  to  render  succor  and  aid,  when  they  were  fired  upon  from  ambusli  by  the 
lieutenant  and  liis  men,  and  two  of  their  ponies  were  killed  and  one  young 
Indian  sliot  through  the  leg.  The  Indians  declare  they  could  easily  have 
killed  Major  Berrien,  but  merely  strove  to  defend  themselves  and  explain, 
and  that  had  they  been  hostile  they  could  have  finished  the  lieutenant  and 
his  little  squad  at  the  Wolf  Creek  crossing  long  before  reinforcements  came. 
Altogether,  there  is  something  so  plausible  in  their  statements  that  it  is 
understood  that  the  conduct  both  of  the  major  and  at  least  one  of  his 
subalterns  will  be  made  the  subject  of  official  investigation." 

"Well,  well,  wellP^  said  Kenyon.  "Thank  God  7'm  not  serving  a 
grateful  nation  in  the  heart  of  the  Indian  country.  It's  bad  enough  to  be 
shot,  and  worse  to  be  lied  about,  and  that  is  all  the  comfort  there  is  in  being 
a  cavalryman,  if  I  do  say  it  who  am  nothing  but  a  cross-grained  old  crank 
of  a  doughboy.  If  this  is  what  the  Twelfth  is  to  get  for  '  a  mere  afTair  of 
outposts,'  what  the  devil  will  be  said  of  them  if  thej^  should  get  into  a 
regular  pitched  battle?  Here,  Mr.  Adjutant,  dump  that  paper  in  the  fire, 
and  don't  let  a  woman  at  the  post  know  anything  about  it. — Know  it 
already?    How  the  mischief  could  they?" 

"There  were  half  a  dozen  of  them,  sir,  at  Mrs.  Hazlett's  reading  an- 
other copy  of  that  paper  as  I  came  down.  And  poor  Mrs.  Thorpe  is  crying 
her  eyes  out.  She's  been  utterly  upset  since  the  news  came  that  the 
Twelfth  had  been  sent  out.     Good  God,  sir,  she's  coming  in  now  !" 

It  was  indeed  poor  Mrs.  Thorpe  who  entered,  pallid,  her  eyelids  swollen 
with  weeping.  Old  Kenyon  was  on  his  feet  in  an  instant  and  leading  her 
to  a  chair. 

"  My  dear  madam,  my  dear  madam,"  he  began,  "  indeed  you  must  not 
give  way  so.  I  assure  you  there  is  no  cause  for  such  dread  and  anxiety. 
Do  strive  to  control  yourself." 

"I  cannot!  oh,"Maj()r  Kenyon,  I  cannot!  I  have  been  through  so 
much,  such  fearful  scenes  I"  she  sobbed,  wringing  her  nervous  hands,  rock- 
ing to  and  fro  in  an  agony  of  grief.  "  Oh,  it  is  easy  for  those  who  have  not 
lived  the  life  we  had  to  live  in  the  old  days  to  counsel  patience,  calmness.  I 
was  only  a  child  then,  kneeling  at  my  mother's  side  when  the  news  came 
in  that  widowed  half  the  women  in  the  post.  I  spent  my  girlhood  in  the 
regiment.  How  many  are  left  of  the  officers  who  were  so  good  to  me  then  ? 
Mother  was  only  one  of  a  dozen  whose  hearts  were  broken, — broken  as,  oh, 
God  !  I  feel  mine  is  to  be.  They  took  my  father  long  years  ago,  now  they 
demand  my  husband,  my  babies'  father,  my  all,  their  all !  Oh,  God !  oh, 
God  !" 

Sobbing,  rocking  to  and  fro  in  her  uncontrollable  grief,  the  poor  girl 
clung  to  Kenyon's  hand,  and  the  old  fellow's  eyes  blinked  and  smarted 
with  the  tears  he  could  not  quite  force  back.  He  laid  the  other  hand  upon 
her  bowed  and  swaying  head. 

"My  child,"  he  said,  brokenly,  "  for  your  babies'  sake,  try  to  bear  up. 
Be  your  father's  daughter.  I  knew  and  loved  him  well, — knew  you  Avhen 
you  rode  your  first  pony  at  the  old  fort  up  the  Missouri.  You  know  well  I 
wouldn't  try  to  deceive  you.  I  can't  think  the  Twelfth  is  to  bear  the  brunt 
of  this  business.  They  don't  belong  in  that  department  at  all.  They  are 
only  borrowed  from  here ;  and  surely  there  are  troops  enough  ihere,  more 
than  enough,  to  overawe  that  pestilent  gang.  All  that  is  necessary  will  be 
to  surround  the  Indians,  let  them  see  what  a  force  we  have,  and  they'll 
knuckle  down.  Don't  cry  so,  Mrs.  Thorpe  ;  don't  cry,  my  child.  Let  me 
take  you  over  home  now.     Just  get  the  little  ones  around  you  to-night,  and 

I'll  bring  over  some  famous  oranges  that  came  to-day,  and Wliy,  I  don't 

believe  the  Twelfth  will  have  to  pull  another  trigger.  Think  how  many 
other  regiments  and  commands  there  are  there." 

"  I  do,  I  do,  and  I  pray  and  pray,  but  no  comfort  comes.  Did  you  ever 
know  a  time  when  they  were  not  in  the  thick  of  the  fight?  Did  you  ever 
hear  of  any  time  when  the  loss  did  not  fall  heaviest  on  us?" 

"Don't  think  of  that  now,"  he  pleaded.  "Don't  borrow  trouble  from 
either  past  or  future.  Come,  let  me  take  you  home,  there's  a  good  girl.  I  tell 
you  if  that  band  hasn't  surrendered  they've  scattered  all  over  creation,  and 


314  ^   SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

you  can  no  more  catch  them  than  you  can — than  you  can— a  newspaper  lie. 
That's  the  strongest  simile  I  can  thinlj  of.  Did  you  hear  what  tliey  were 
saying  about  Berrien  and  Brewster  ?"  he  queried,  eager  to  divert  her  tlioughts 
from  her  own  misery. 

"I  did.  Isn't  it  cruel?  But  Major  Berrien  has  his  wife  and  Winnie 
with  him,  and  they're  bringing  him  home  ;  but  if  poor  George  is  shot, 
what  can  I  do?" 

"Do?  Why,  you  shall  go  right  to  him,  if  I  have  to  give  mj^self  a  seven 
days'  leave  and  take  you."  And  so,  soothing,  comforting  as  best  he  knew 
how,  the  veteran  major  led  her  home  to  her  wondering  brood,  to  the  laugh- 
ing, crowing  baby  leaping  in  the  nurse's  arms,  delighted  to  see  the  little 
mother  again,  to  the  joyous  children  romping  in  the  firelight,  innocent  of 
care  or  fear,  and  then,  striving  for  their  sake  to  still  her  sobs,  to  dry  her 
tears,  he  left  her  to  put  the  little  ones  to  bed,  to  clasp  their  folded  hands  in 
hers  as  the  wee,  white-gowned  girlies  knelt  at  her  side,  echoing— God  only 
knew  with  what  piteous  entreaty— the  lisping  prayer  for  His  divine  protec- 
tion for  the  loved  father,  the  devoted  husband,  the  gallant  soldier  who  that 
very  day  had  fought  his  last  fight  and  lay  lifeless  on  the  frozen  sod. 

Over  the  eastward  bluffs,  cold  and  hard  and  gray,  the  morning  light 
had  slowly  crept  to  the  zenith.  Over  the  sky  was  spread  one  limitless  pall 
of  cloud,  cheerless  and  repellent, — a  pall  so  dense  that  not  one  friendly  star 
had  peeped,  not  one  rift  of  sunshine  now  could  force  its  Wiiy.  All  below, 
bleak,  frowning,  and  sullen,  a  bare  and  blasted  landscape;  low  hills  and 
ridges  east  and  west,  low-lying  shallow  and  swale  between,  cheerless,  tree- 
less, shrubless,  not  even  a  veil  of  snow  to  hide  its  nakedness,  to  lend  one 
pitying  touch  to  break  the  dull,  dead  monotony  of  its  wintry  desolation  ; 
sweeps  and  slopes  rolling  away  unbroken  to  the  frowning  horizon  at  the 
west,  sterner,  harsher  lines  among  the  bluffs  across  the  tortuous  stream-bed, 
between  whose  ragged  banks  an  icy,  lonely,  and  dismal  rivulet  is  curdling 
now,  spreading  out  into  frozen  shallows  at  the  flats,  moaning  and  com- 
plaining around  its  warped  and  sudden  bends,  desolate  as  the  surrounding 
desolation,  deserted  as  the  Dead  Sea,  its  banks  repellent  even  to  such  sharers 
of  Dakota  solitudes  as  the  coyote  and  the  cottonwood,  shunned  of  man  or 
beast  or  tree, — a  stream  of  silence  and  gloom  at  the  dawn  of  this  December 
day,  and  so  cheerless  is  its  every  surrounding,  so  appalling  the  unnatural 
hush,  that  one  would  never  dream  of  life  upon  its  blasted  banks. 

Yet,  listen  !  Unseen,  but  dominant,  the  sun  has  risen  above  the  eastern 
hills,  and,  as  the  light  broadens  even  where  it  cannot  warm,  there  floats 
upon  the  air  from  far  away  at  the  southwest,  faint  and  clear,  a  cavalry 
trumpet  call ;  soft  at  first,  then  crescendo,  it  ceases  suddenly  in  shrill  high 
note.  It  thrills  through  and  through  a  rare  atmosphere  unrufiled  by  the 
fleeting  wing  of  hardiest  bird.  Like  the  wistful  call  of  scattered  quail,  it 
seems  to  say,  "Where  are  you?"  And  prompt,  expectant  of  the  coming 
of  faithful  mate,  listen  again  !  From  the  dim  recesses  to  the  north,  some- 
where among  those  bare  and  desolate  slopes,  the  answer  rises,  quick,  ring- 
ing, even  imperative,  and  the  signal  reads,  "This  way." 

Groping  through  the  bitter  darkness  of  the  December  night,  a  cavalry 
column  has  sought  and,  just  at  the  opening  of  this  cheerless  December  day, 
has  found  its  mate.  The  comrade  battalions  of  the  Twelfth  are  within 
hail. 

"  Forward  !"  rings  the  signal  from  the  southwest.  Forward  with  them, 
then,  around  that  point  at  the  low  bluff  to  our  front,  and  in  the  ghostly, 
gathering  light  the  scene  is  before  us,  the  tale  is  almost  told. 

There,  thickly  dotting  the  prairie  and  covering  the  low  ground,  its 
wigwams  smoke-begrimed  and  dingy,  lies  an  Indian  encampment ;  but 
even  in  such  shelter  as  this  the  hostile  horde  has  fared  far  better  than 
they  who  through  the  long,  freezing  night  have  kept  watch  and  ward  lest 
again  the  wary  chief  should  slip  through  the  meshes.  It  has  come  at  last. 
The  big  warrior's  fanatical  braves  have  made  their  rush,  Berrien's  men  the 
tackle.  Back  flew  the  signal  with  the  setting  sun.  Up  through  the  night 
came  Farquhar  with  "the  guards." 

Here  in  front  the  four  old  troops  we  know  so  well  have  shivered  for 
hours  about  the  village.  Here,  alert  and  determined,  Rolfe  and  Hazlett, 
Thorpe  and  Gorham,  have  clung  to  front,  flank,  and  rear,  well  knowing 
that  so  soon  as  the  colonel  got  the  news  he  would  not  only  speed  the  second 


A   SOLDIER'S  SECRET.  31 5 

battalion  on  its  way,  but,  gathering  any  other  forces  he  could  find,  would 
ride  the  long  night  through,  if  need  were,  to  join  his  men. 

Stern  and  silent,  Rolfe  is  standing  at  the  bank  of  the  stream,  wearied 
enough,  yet  certain  that  there  is  no  rest  before  them.  On  him,  as  senior, 
the  command  has  devolved  in  the  absence  of  the  beloved  major  now  being 
tenderly  nursed  and  comfortably  trundled  homeward  in  the  warm  interior 
of  a  Pullman.  No  excitement,  no  cheer,  attends  the  coming  of  the  column 
now  at  steady,  soldierly  gait  winding  into  the  shallow  depression.  Rolfe 
knows  that  without  Farquhar  and  his  reinforcements  attack  upon  or  inter- 
ference with  so  formidable  a  band  would  be  worse  than  desperation.  He 
knows  that  with  Farquhar  his  own  position  will  be  only  that  of  subordi- 
nate, and  that  he  must  obey.  He  knows  how,  were  he  supreme,  a  thousand 
troopers  at  his  back,  he  would  conduct  matters  now.  But  Farquhar  is  a 
soldier  long  accustomed  both  to  obedience  and  to  command  ;  Rolfe  is  one  to 
whom  obedience  comes  with  laggard  grace,  to  whom  command  is  oppor- 
tunity for  lavish  vent  of  his  imperious  will.  Orders  or  no  orders,  if  he  had 
the  power  he  would  deal  death  to  the  rabid  renegades  before  him.  Orders 
to  "bring  on  the  Indians,  but  not  bring  on  a  fight,"  to  his  thinking  are 
orders  like  those  which  should  forbid  a  man's  going  to  water  until  he  had 
learned  to  swina.  Orders  to  disarm  but  not  molest  are  simply  something 
to  be  laughed  to  scorn.  When  were  the  Sioux  ever  known  to  surrender 
those  precious  arms?  Such  things  when  reported  in  years  gone  bj^  turned 
out  to  be  as  rusty  shams  as  the  arms  turned  in.  Rolfe  was  in  mood  as 
sullen  as  the  morn,  and  the  signs  about  the  now  bustling  village  were  not 
to  his  liking.  Over  among  the  tepees  blanketed  squaws  were  scurrying 
about,  their  shrill  voices  suppressed,  but  their  black  eyes  flashing  hatred  at 
the  silent  squads  of  troopers,  carbines  ready  in  hand,  watching  every  move 
within  the  guarded  lines.  Young  women  and  boys  were  belaboring  the 
gaunt  and  dejected  ponies.  Eager  gestures  and  low  exclamations  called 
attention  to  the  coming  force,  and  in  groups  the  warriors,  shrouded  to  the 
very  lips  in  their  heavy  robes,  stood  or  sat  in  council ;  but  all  the  while, 
darting  from  point  to  point,  with  fierce  declamatory  gesture  went  Mephisto 
himself  in  the  Indian  "medicine-man."  Mark!  wheresoever  he  goes 
eager  ears  are  bent  to  hear  his  exhortation. 

"  My  God  !  why  can't  I  arrest  him  at  least?  With  that  old  scoundrel 
done  for,  the  rest  might  not  be  so  hard,"  is  Rolfe's  impatient  exclamation. 

"  Simply  because  the  attempt  would  lead  to  instant  fight,"  is  Hazlett's 
cool  reply. 

"  But,  man,  he's  putting  them  up  to  organized  resistance.  He's  giving 
them  some  instructions  now  ;  you  can  see  it  just  as  well  as  I  do." 

"Who  doesn't?  but "  A  suggestive  shrug  of  the  shoulders  indi- 
cates the  brother  captain's  opinion.  "You  know  the  old  saying,  Rolfe, 
'  Ours  not  to  make  reply.'  " 

"  Who's  in  command  of  those  advanced  men  fronting  that  part  of  the 
village?"  asks  Rolfe,  after  a  moment's  gloomy  pause. 

"Brewster.  Don't  you  see?  He's  talking  with  Sergeant  Ellis  there 
now." 

Rolfe  grinds  his  heavy  boot-heel  into  the  frosted  bunch-grass,  not  more 
harshly  than  he  grinds  his  teeth.  "  By  heaven  !  Hazlett,  bear  me  witness 
to  this,— for  there's  no  telling  how  things  will  turn  out  to-day,— if  I  had 
my  way  those  two  men  would  have  been  brought  to  book  and  made  to  ex- 
plain, instead  of  having  posts  of  honor  here,  Farquhar  refused  to  listen  to 
another  word  on  the  subject  until  we  got  home  again  ;  then  it  may  be  too 
late."  > 

"Well-1,  I  can't  understand  what  you  have  against  them  both, — or 
either,"  is  Hazlett's  reply. 

"And  I  can't  explain  here  or  now  ;  but  wait  till  we're  home  again, 
Hazlett,  if  we  ever  get  there." 

Farther  down  to  the  left  two  other  troop  commanders  have  been  watch- 
ing the  symptoms  among  the  swarming  lodges. 

"  There'll  be  the  devil's  work  this  day,  Thorpe,"  says  Gorham  at  last, 
with  gloomy  brow. 

And  Thorpe  only  bows  his  head. 

Three  hours  later  look  upon  the  scene.  The  open  prairie  on  the  hither 
side  of  the  village  is  no  longer  tenantless,  as  it  was  at  dawn.    Two  parallel 


310  A  SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

lines  confront  each  other  there.  In  dogged  submission  to  the  orders  of 
their  captors  and  tlie  mandate  of  tlie  big  white  chief  which  lias  been  laid 
before  them,  silent,  sullen,  muffled  to  the  eyes  in  dingy  robe  or  blanket, 
the  braves  have  slowly  moved  out  from  their  lurking-places  among  the. 
tepees  and  shuffled  down  the  gentle  slope  until  well  away  from  the  out- 
skirts of  their  town,  and  just  in  front  of  a  long,  silent  rank  of  dismounted 
troopers  they  squat  upon  the  ground.  No  word  is  spoken  by  either  side. 
Here  crouch  the  savage  leadei'S  of  the  hostile  tribe,  and,  in  long-extended 
line,  scores  of  their  fiercest  and  bravest.  Others  still  lurk  among  the 
squaws  and  lodges.  Others  peer  with  glittering,  malignant  eyes  from 
under  heaps  of  foul-smelling  robes  or  parfleches.  Those  in  the  outing 
glance  but  furtively  at  the  blue  line  before  them.  They  are  silent  as  the 
dead,  yet  the  war-cry  trembles  on  their  lips.  They  wait,  but  wait  expec- 
tant. They  crouch,  "but  it  is  the  tiger's  crouch,  ready  for  a  spring.  The 
word  has  been  passed  that  all  arms  must  be  surrendered,  and  every  arm  is 
there,  ready,  hidden,  but  "with  the  lightning  sleeping  in  it." 

Back  among  those  brown,  dingy  tepees,  breatliless  with  excitement, 
squaws  are  scurrying  to  and  fro ;  children  are  being  huddled  away  to  the 
farther  side.  ("Look  at  that.  Curly,"  mutters  Warren,  under  his  frozen 
moustache,  as  he  passes  rapidly  along  in  rear.  "  Isn't  that  enough  to  show 
they  mean  mischief?")  Some  of  the  Indian  police  and  interpreters  are 
still  searching  for  warriors  in  hiding.  Yet  has  not  the  old  chief  bowed  his 
assent  to  the  orders  and  given  his  directions  that  his  people  should  comply? 
Nothing  must  be — can  be — done  so  long  as  the  Indian  makes  no  overt 
move.  The  dismounted  men  of  two  troops  are  in  long  single  rank.  Some 
of  the  men  shiver  a  little,  for  cold  and  excitement  are  telling  now,  as  in  many 
eases  overcoats  have  been  thrown  aside,  but  brave  men  tremble  ofttiraes 
until  the  first  shot  comes,  and  then  the  nervous  strain  is  gone,  for  the  hot 
blood  leaps  and  tingles  through  the  veins.  Back  some  distance  the  horse- 
herders  are  aligned.  Off"  to  the  flanks  and  rear  comrade  troops  gaze  silently 
on  the  scene.  From  the  crest  of  a  low  bluff  the  black  muzzle  of  the  Hotch- 
kiss  gun  peers  from  its  knot  of  watchful  batterymen.  Farquhar,  vigilant 
and  grave,  has  just  sent  Warren  with  other  orders.  A  half-breed  Indian 
steps  forth,  as  though  to  carry  its  import  to  the  chief.  At  him  the  eyes  of 
the  old  maniac  of  a  medicine-man  glare  with  tigerish  fury.  He  lowers 
his  feathered  head.     He  crouches. 

Then,  suddenly,  a  cat-like  leap,  a  wild  yell.  Off  goes  every  blanket, 
as  though  hurled  by  the  explosion  from  within.  In  simultaneous  crash 
the  flame  and  lead  have  leaped  upon  the  trooper  line,  and  now  through  the 
veiling  smoke  every  Indian  is  fighting  like  a  demon.  Down  goes  many  a 
sturdy  soldier,  veteran  sergeant,  brave-faced  boy.  The  line  reels  with  the 
sudden  shock,  but  in  an  instant  men  like  Thorpe  and  Brewster  and  Ran- 
dolph leap  forward  among  the  men  and  their  voices  ring  with  the  clamor 
of  battle.  Back  up  the  slope,  scurrying,  stooping  low,  firing,  dropping  in 
their  tracks,  the  Indians  are  making  for  the  shelter  of  their  tepees, — for  the 
skirts  of  the  squaws.  What  Sioux  woman  fears  to  die  in  defence  of  her 
brave?  What  Sioux  warrior  disdains  to  shield  himself  from  foeman's  blow 
and  to  shoot  from  the  covert  of  the  sheltering  form  of  his  devoted  wife? 

"For  God's  sake,  men,  head  'em  off!  Don't  let  them  back  among  the 
women,"  is  the  yell.  But  Indian  tactics,  stooping  to  anything,  stopping  at 
nothing,  are  too  much  for  men  trained  to  fight  only  as  soldiers  and  gentle- 
men. Already  squaws  are  rushing  forward,  knife  and  revolver  in  hand. 
Already  the  hidden  savages  are  firing  from  under  tent  or  travois.  Already 
a  score  of  the  best  and  bravest  of  the  Twelfth  have  bit  the  dust.  Curly 
Brewster's  arm  is  smashed  by  rifle-bullet ;  Thorpe,  cheering  on  his  men, 
heading  them  in  their  rapid  return  fire,  plunges  suddenly  to  earth  with  one 
gasping  cry,  "Oh,  God  !  My  little  ones  !"  Rolfe,  riding  like  mad  a  dozen 
yards  ahead  of  his  men  in  wild  effort  to  cutoff  the  backward  move,  tumbles 
in  senseless  heap  at  the  very  feet  of  a  knife-wielding  fury  of  a  woman  who 
is  only  laid  low  just  as  her  clutch  is  on  his  hair,  her  gleaming  blade  at  his 
throat.  Ay,  on  this  bleak  and  barren  and  cheerless  field,  under  these 
leaden  skies,  beside  the  black  waters,  streaked  now  with  curdling  red,  the 
battle-fiend  is  loose :  there  is,  indeed,  "the  devil's  work  this  day,"  but 
where  the  blame  lies  as  between  the  soldier  who  must  fight  or  die,  and 
those  who,  far  and  near.  East  and  West,  so  promptly  lashed  him  as  squaw- 
shooter,  babe-slayer,  let  the  God  of  battles  decide. 


A   SOLDIER'S  SECRET.  317 

XIV. 

A  month  later,  and  Holden  has  his  wounded  safely  housed  under  the 
roof  of  the  hospital  at  old  Pawnee,  many  severely'  shattered  or  suffering 
great  pain.  Many  will  bear  to  their  dying  day  mementoes  of  that  savage 
December  battle.  Some  of  the  twoseore  are  doing  very  well ;  others,  per- 
haps, have  done  better,  and  are  sleeping  under  the  flag.  A  busy  man  is 
Holden,  and  a  very  proud  one,  as  he  has  the  right  to  be,  for,  one  and  all, 
the  troopers  love  to  speak  of  him  as  their  "fighting  sawbones."  He  was 
in  the  thick  of  it  all  when  the  rush  of  the  rearward  mounted  troops  swept 
into  and  through  those  fire-spitting  lodges,  and  the  Indians,  warriors, 
squaws,  and  children,  were  scattering,  fighting  fiercely  all  the  way,  to  the 
shelter  of  the  ravines  among  the  bluffs.  Tireless  as  ever,  he  and  his  assist- 
ants are  constantly  at  the  bedsides  of  the  wounded.  So  is  the  chaplain, 
one  of  the  church  inilitant,  whose  "  soul's  in  arms  and  eager  for  the  fray," 
for  his  friends  of  the  Twelfth  are  under  two  fires.  Gallantly  and  well  have 
they  withstood  that  which,  with  sudden  treachery  at  the  hands  of  their 
savage  foes,  flashed  in  their  very  faces.  But  they  have  no  redress  as  against 
this — this  civilized  lashing  at  their  verj^  backs.  The  parson's  sermon  Sun- 
day morning  in  answer  to  the  drivelling  sentimentality  of  certain  mis- 
guided ecclesiastics  far  from  the  scene  of  conflict  almost  lifted  old  Kenyon 
and  his  comrades  out  of  their  seats.  The  major  hugged  his  chaplain  after 
service  and  stopped  to  shake  hands  with  him  every  time  he  met  him  during 
the  afternoon.  In  many  a  pulpit  east  of  the  Missouri,  with  tearful  fervor 
was  the  picture  drawn  of  those  helpless,  pleading  Indian  mothers,  those 
shrieking,  terrified  little  Indian  babes,  ruthlessly  slaughtered  by  a  brutal 
and  infuriated  soldiery.  Nor  were  the  clergy  without  warrant  for  their 
"  bottom  facts,"  since  in  some  mysterious  way  the  representatives  of  the 
press,  hovering  about  that  imj^ersonal  section  of  military  anatomy  known 
as  head-quarters,  were  flooding  the  columns  of  their  journals  with  para- 
graphs about  the  wanton  killing  of  women  and  children  in  the  fight  in 
front  of  the  Twelfth.  "Holy  Joe,"  as  the  parson  had  been  termed,  knew 
well  the  day  when,  in  the  seclusion  and  simplicity  of  his  seminary  life,  he 
would  have  swallowed  whole  just  such  statements  and  turned  up  the 
whites  of  his  eyes  in  sympathetic  horror  at  the  recital.  But  the  man  of 
God  on  the  banks  of  the  Merrimac  and  his  brother  in  the  cross  on  the 
Upper  Missouri  see  very  different  sides  of  the  vexing  Indian  question. 
"Holy  Joe"  at  Pawnee  this  sparkling  month  of  January  was  mad  clear 
through  at  the  indigniti'es  and  aspersions  cast  upon  his  blue-coated  com- 
rades. He  wrestled  with  the  brethren  of  his  cloth  and  downed  them.  He 
even  dared  to  establish  a  censorship  of  the  press  and  to  keep  from  the  hands 
of  his  precious  wounded  those  journals  which  had  assailed  the  Twelfth. 

He  had  had  his  hands  full,  poor  fellow,  long  before  the  wounded  came, 
for  those  were  dire  days  and  nights  after  the  news  was  flashed  to  the  post 
and  the  widowed  and  fatherless  in  their  affliction  were  thrown  upon  his 
hands.  Poor  Mrs.  Thorpe  !  Ah,  she  was  only  one  of  several.  There  was 
wailing  among  the  wives  and  little  ones  down  where  once  the  soldiers' 
families  were  so  thickly  clustered.  There  were  other  households  in  dread 
anxiety.  There  were  women  broken  down  with  grief  and  sleepless  watch- 
ing. There  was  one  so  ill  she  could  not  even  now  be  told  she  would  never 
look  upon  the  face  of  her  gallant  soldier  again.  But  draw  the  veil.  It  was 
on  such  bleeding  hearts  and  on  the  men  who  bore  the  brunt  of  the  fiercest 
fighting  of  the  campaign  that  the  lash  of  press  and  pulpit  fell. 

But  old  Kenyon  was  in  his  element.  To  the  best  and  kindliest  of  men 
there  is  in  being  able  to  say  "  Didn't  I  tell  you  so?"  a  joy  that  surpasses  the 
sweets  of  religious  consolation.  It  was  something  to  hear  him  declaiming 
among  the  artillery  and  infantry  officers  during  the  days  that  followed  the 
announcement  of  official  investigation  at  the  exi^ense  of  the  Pawnee  battal- 
ions. "Why,  gentlemen,"  said  he,  "I  have  never  ceased  to  thank  God  I 
didn't  take  the  chance  for  promotion  that  came  in  the  reorganization  twenty 
years  ago.  I  was  one  of  the  senior  captains  of  infantry  then.  I  could  have 
got  one  of  those  cavalry  vacancies  just  as  well  as  not,— been  a  yellow  major 
ten  years  before  the  leaves  dropped  on  my  shoulders  in  the  blue  ;  but  if  by 
any  chance  I  were  ordered  into  the  dragoons  to-day  I'd  swap  out  or  quit  for 
good.  From  the  time  those  Bloods  and  Piegans  got  their  deserved  thrash- 
ing at  the  haijds  of  Tim  Baker's  battalion  I've  knowc  enough  to  steer  clea? 


318  A   SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

of  it.  You  know  those  facts  as  well  as  I  do.  You  know  those  Indians  had 
been  murdering,  robbing,  burning,  pillaging,  for  two  years.  You  know  how 
all  Montana  begged  and  implored  General  Slieridan  to  put  a  stop  to  it. 
There  was  no  catching  them  until  winter,  and  then  when  he  sent  those 
Second  Cavalry  fellows  up  there  with  orders  to  thrash  Siieol  out  of  them, 
what  was  the  result?  Didn't  the  papers  East  and  West  turn  to  and  damn 
him  and  them?  Didn't  they  dub  him  '  Piegan  Phil'  from  that  time  forth? 
No,  sir,  no  cavalry  service  for  me.  There's  only  one  thing  harder  than  the 
knocks  that  they  have  been  getting  for  the  last  twenty  years  on  the  frontier, 
and  that's  tlie  linocks  they've  had  to  bear  at  Lome." 

But  towards  the  end  of  January  the  old  post  was  beginning  to  pluck  up 
heart  again,  and,  to  tlae  keen  delight  of  Mrs.  Berrien  and  Winifred,  their 
particular  major  was  able  to  drive  with  them,  bundled  up  in  his  furs,  and 
lolling  back  in  the  cushions  of  Berengaria's  barouche,  as  he  termed  his 
wife's  comfortable  carriage,  with  that  rejoicing  matron  by  his  side,  distrib- 
uting smiles  and  sunshine  and  joyous  nods  of  recognition  wherever  she 
went ;  everybody  waving  hand  or  hat  or  handkerchief  as  they  bowled 
along,  and  Winifred — bonny  Winifred — beaming  upon  her  father  from  the 
front  seat.  Very,  very  sweet  Miss  Berrien  was  looking  just  now,  said  all 
who  saw  her  ;  yet  there  was  a  shade  of  wistful ness  in  her  face,  a  constant 
expression  about  those  deep,  dark  eyes  that  seemed  to  tell  they  were  ever 
on  watch  for  one  who  never  came.  Shattered  as  was  his  sabre  arm.  Curly 
Brewster  had  scoffed  at  the  idea  of  being  sent  back  to  Pawnee. 

"What's  the  use?"  he  said.  "I  would  be  utterly  alone  there,  while 
here  I  have  all  the  fellows  about  me.     What  better  care  do  I  need?" 

In  the  midst  of  all  their  trials  and  annoyances,  in  the  thick  of  the 
whirl  of  events  that  followed  their  sharp  and  sudden  fight,  the  officers  and 
men  of  the  Twelfth  found  themselves  more  closely  drawn  together  even 
than  before.  Very  little  was  said  when  outsiders  were  by  as  to  the  depth 
of  feeling  aroused  in  their  ranks  by  the  unaccountable  criticism  of  the 
press.  Very  little  had  to  be  said  in  the  official  investigation  of  the  affair  to 
clear  them,  one  and  all,  of  the  array  of  allegations  lodged  at  their  doors. 
But  that  every  man,  from  the  colonel  down,  bore  away  from  the  field  of 
their  winter's  travail  a  sense  of  injury  beyond  the  scar  of  savage  missile, 
who  could  doubt? — who  could  blame?  It  did  not  prevent  their  having 
some  quiet  fun  of  their  own,  however.  Gray-haired  Farquhar  was  whim- 
sical in  his  sympathy  with  Rolfe,  whose  scalp  had  been  saved  by  the  man 
of  all  others  he  had  most  reviled, — Sergeant  Ellis.  Randolph,  from  the 
recesses  of  the  hospital  tent,  poked  no  end  of  gibes  at  Ridgeway,  who  had 
lost  his  eye-glasses  in  the  morning  fight  and  had  been  nearly  run  off  with 
by  the  Sioux.  As  for  Rolfe's  plight,  "  he  lost  all  the  skin  from  the  side 
instead  of  the  top  of  his  head,"  laughed  Gorham.  It  was  pitiable  enough 
to  make  the  boys  forget  the  austerity  of  his  past,  for  to  his  dying  day  Rolfe 
would  carry  the  marks  of  his  involuntary  "scrap  with  a  squaw,"  as  Ran- 
dolph terrned  it.  "Rolfe's  scars  have  come  to  the  surface,"  chimed  in 
Warren,  who  never  could  get  along  with  him.  They  all  hoped  he  would 
go  back  to  Pawnee  with  the  wounded  train  ;  and  he  did.  So,  too,  did  Ellis, 
wearing  on  the  arm  in  a  sling  the  new  chevrons  of  a  first  sergeant,  won,  as 
said  his  colonel  in  presenting  them,  "  together  with  the  heartiest  recom- 
mendation for  a  medal  of  honor  I  could  write,  for  bravery  on  the  field  of 
battle."  Rolfe  turned  his  bandaged  head  away  when  Holden  gave  him  all 
the  story.  He  knew  not  what  to  think,  much  less  what  to  say.  Ellis  had 
leaped  through  the  swarm  of  fighting  braves  and  with  the  butt  of  his  car- 
bine dashed  aside  the  unsexed  fiend  whose  clutching  claws  were  in  the 
captain's  hair,  and  then  had  fought  like  a  tiger  over  the  prostrate  body  and 
saved  the  life  of  the  man  who  had  maligned  him. 

"  One  half-second  more,  and  you  were  gone,  Rolfe,"  said  Holden,  gravely, 

"  I  never  said  he  wasn't  a  fine  soldier/'  answered  Rolfe,  faintly.  "  Per- 
haps I  didn't  know  him  aright." 

"That  isn't  all  there  is  to  it,  Rolfe,"  was  the  doctor's  reply.  "  He  is 
more  than  a  soldier.     He  is  a  gentleman  ;  and  I  know  it." 

Yet  when  Rolfe  expressed  a  desire  to  see  and  speak  with  Ellis  later  he 
calmly  begged  the  doctor  to  excuse  him. 

But  just  why  Brewster  would  not  go  home  with  the  wounded  the  boys 
couldn't  quite  understand.  He  would  be  off  duty  for  months.  He  might 
not  swing  sabre  again  for  a  year.    Miss  Berrien  was  there,  all  readiness,  no 


A   SOLDIER'S  SECRET.  319 

doubt,  to  thank  him  warmly  for  all  he  had  done  to  save  her  and  her  mother 
from  the  blizzard,  from  the  Indians,  and  heaven  knows  what  all,— to  bless 
him  for  his  rescue  of  papa,— to  beam  upon  him  with  those  wondrous  dark 
eyes,  thought  poor  Ridgeway,  who  felt  somehow  that,  after  all,  his  cake 
was  all  dough.  And  yet  Curly  wouldn't  go.  What  was  more,  he  had 
never  so  much  as  exchanged  one  word  with  Winifred  Berrien  from  the 
moment  of  the  discovery  of  the  ambulance.  It  was  "  B  throop,"  as  Murphy 
said,  tliat  had  the  honor  of  conveying  the  ladies  on  to  camp  and  the  bed- 
side of  the  astonished  major.  It  was  a  blow  to  Winifred  to  learn  that 
within  twelve  hours  after  their  arrival  the  old  battalion  had  ridden  away, 
Brewster  with  it. 

"  I  know  why  Curly  doesn't  dare  go  back,"  said  one  of  the  sages  of  the 
bachelor  mess.  "  He's  afraid  Knowles  will  come  out  and  insist  on  lugging 
him  off  to  town  to  be  nursed  under  his  roof,  or  else  of  her  going  out  to  nurse 
him.  Begad  !  it  may  be  tough,  but  it's  a  heap  safer  here."  And  so  "  Anti- 
noiis"  remained  with  his  fellows  in  the  wintry  field,  and  old  Beri'ien,  who 
never  could  be  got  to  write  a  letter  to  anybody,  found  he  could  stand  it  no 
longer.  He  bade  Berengaria  write  and  say— well,  something  ;  something 
really  must  be  said  about  how  they  appreciated  his  conduct ;  "  by-gones  be 
by-gones ;"  something,  anything";  he  didn't  know;  she  did:  she  always 
knew  just  what  to  say.     "  So  write,  Bess." 

"But  I  have,  Dick." 

"  Berengaria  !    And  without  my  consent  ?" 

"Richard  Plantagenet,  Coeur-de-Lion,  T6te-de-Veau,  of  course,— ten 
days  ago." 

"What  did  you  say?" 

"Everything  that  was  proper,  I  trust." 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"Nothing." 

"  Didn't  he  answer  ?" 

"  How  could  he,  Dick  ?  You  can't  with  two  hands  ;  he  has  but  one,  the 
left  at  that." 

"  He  might  have  got  somebody  to  write  for  him.    I  did."" 

"  So  did  lie." 

"Thought  you  said  he  didn't  say  anything." 

"  Well,  he  didn't.  He  said  everything  that  was  gentlemanly,  courteous, 
appreciative,  and  yet — nothing.     A  model  letter,  Dick." 

"  What  does  Winnie  say  ?" 

"Nothing." 

"Didn't  she  see  it?" 

"Why  should  she,  Dick?  Two  months  ago  you  practically  forbade 
their  meeting." 

"Oh,  I  know  ;  but — I  didn't  know  him  then." 

"Not  even  after  seven  years'  service  with  him,  Dick?" 

"  Oh,  well,  that — that  party  in  petticoats  there  in  town,  I  didn't  know 
her  as  well  as — well,  as  after  I  heard  all  about  her  from  those  fellows  in  the 
Eleventh." 

"  But  I  knew  her,  Dick,  from  the  start." 

"  I  know  you  did,  Bess.  You  said  so  ;  and  I  suppose  I've  been  an  ass," 
said  Berrien,  ruefully. 

"You  sometimes  do  cross  the  danger-line,  Dick  dear.  That  is,  when  I 
let  3'ou." 

The  major  had  nothing  to  say  in  response  to  this  accusation.  He  pon- 
dered in  silence  a  moment.  "Well,  a  fellow  can  change  his  mind,  can't  he, 
as  well  as  a  woman  ?" 

"  Not  as  well  as  a  woman,  Dick.  Still,  he  can  change.  And  suppose  a 
certain  fellow  were  to  change  his  mind  now  and  take  six  months'  leave  and 
go  away  to  be  cured?" 

"What!    Brewster  change  his  mind?— about  Winnie,  do  you  mean? 

Why,  confound  him  !  I'd  round  him  up  so  quick The  idea  of  his  going 

back  on  Winnie  !  Why,  if  I  thought  such  a  thing  possible  I'd  have  him 
here  on  his  knees  at  her  feet  inside  of  a  week." 

"Oh,  no,  you  wouldn't,  Dick,"  said  she,  laughing  softly. 

"Wouldn't?    Why  not?" 

"Just  because  two  women  wouldn't  let  you, — I  for  one,  Winnie  for  two." 

"  You  still  think  she  cares  for  him?" 


320  ^   SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

"  I  won't  answer  that,  Dick.  But  this,"  with  sudden  change  from  her 
laughing  manner,  "  I  will  say :  no  matter  what  she  cared  or  how  she  suffered, 
neither  you  nor  I,  Dick,  nor  any  one  on  this  wide  earth,  would  ever  wring 
one  word  from  her  lips." 

And  over  at  Holdeu's  things  were  going  on  in  an  odd  groove.  It  was 
Kenyon  who  was  a  frequent  visitor  there  now,  not  Rolfe.  Mrs.  Holden  was 
still  in  St.  Louis  with  her  olive-branches,  for  the  doctor  had  frankly  told  her 
that  just  so  long  as  he  had  all  these  wounded  on  his  hands  the  children 
would  be  in  his  way. 

"  He  means  me,"  said  Jennie  to  Miss  Guthrie,  with  prompt  resentment. 
"But  he  says  next  month  he'll  come  on  here, — business  will  require  it  as 
well  as  pleasure, — pay  us  a  ten  days'  visit,  and  take  us  home.  Then  you'll 
come  too,  won't  you,  Nita?"     But  Miss  Guthrie  shook  her  head. 

"You  promised  us,"  said  Mrs.  Holden,  reproachfully;  "and  Rolfe 
won't  be  there  to  worry  you  this  time,"  she  faltered.  "He's  going  to  take 
a  long  leave  and  go  abroad." 

"But  even  that,"  wrote  Jennie  to  her  liege,  "did  not  seem  to  comfort 
her.  She  says  she  will  never,  probably,  visit  Pawnee  again  ;  and  I  know 
well  as  can  be  it  is  all  on  account  of  that  terrible  fright.  What  can  there 
have  been  behind  it  all?  Now  that  the  Twelfth  are  coming  home  and  you 
have  everything  running  snioothly,  don't  you  think  it  possible  to  find  out 
something  about  that  strange  affair?  You  have  never  written  a  word,  and 
I  can  see  Nita's  eyes  questioning  me  every  time  she  knows  I  have  a  letter. 
The  other  day  I  was  in  her  room,  and,  looking  over  some  old  albums  that  I 
drew  from  the  bottom  of  a  desk,  I  came  across  a  picture  of  hers  just  like 
the  one  that  is  in  the  little  silver  frame  on  the  toilet-table  in  her  room  at 
Pawnee,  except  that  this  was  blurred  and  worn.  '  Why,  Nita  !'  I  cried,  un- 
thinkingly, as  she  entered,  'I  thought  you  told  me  mine  was  the  only  one 
left  of  tiiis  kind,  and  here's  one  that  looks  as  if  it  might  have  been  worn 

next  some  fellow's   heart  and  kissed  a  million '  and  then  I  stopjied 

short  and  dropped  it,  for  she  had  turned  white  as  death  and  was  stretching 
out  her  hands.  'Where  did  you  find  that?'  she  whispered  at  last.  '  Be- 
tween the  leaves  of  this  old  album,'  I  said.     '  It  was  lying  there  loosely.' 

'  I  had  not  seen  it  for  six  years.     I  thought  I  had  burned  it  with ' 

And  then  she  broke  off  suddenly,  and  shuddered,  but  seized  it  and  took 
it  away.  If  she  would  only  talk  to  me  of  Jack  ;  but  she  will  not,  even 
though  I  know  that  ever  since  the  suicide  of  Mr.  Percival  last  August  Mr. 
Guthrie  has  been  working  day  and  night  reopening  the  old  matter.  All  the 
friends  of  the  Guthries  are  now  more  than  ever  confident  that  Jack  was 
absolutely  innocent, — that  Mr.  Percival  as  president  of  the  bank  had  made 
away  wuth  those  missing  funds  and  securities  and  charged  it  to  Jack  and  to 
his  friend  Harold  Worden.  An  effort  has  been  made  to  get  at  Mr.  Perci- 
val's  papers,  all  of  them,  but  his  widow  is  still  so  broken  that  she  cannot  be 
seen  by  any  one,  say  her  physicians.  It  is  believed  she  knows  something 
of  the  inner  history  of  the  whole  case,  and  that  she  is  striving  to  hide  what 
she  knows  for  her  children's  sake.  Of  course  people  say  she  has  behaved 
very  ill, — that  she  ought  to  sell  and  restore  to  the  bank  real  estate  and  prop- 
erty that  from  time  to  time  Mr.  Percival  had  settled  upon  her.  But  she 
only  goes  into  hysterics  when  lawyers  are  mentioned.  Mr.  Guthrie  is  now 
in  a  highly  nervous  and  excitable' state,  which  naturally  reacts  upon  Nita. 
I  wish  we  could  get  her  away  from  here.  He  went  West,  you  remember, 
when  he  left  her  with  us  at  Pawnee.  .  He  went  in  the  hopes  of  finding  some 
trace  of  Mr.  Worden,  so  I  learn  now,  and  to  urge  the  immediate  return  to 
St.  Louis  of  Jack's  old  and  intimate  friend  to  demand  justice  at  the  hands 
of  the  Percivals,  for  he  was  ruined  irretrievably  by  Percival's  accusation 
when  dismissed  from  the  bank.  But  he  has  vanished  utterly,  and  I  know 
that  they  have  about  given  him  up  for  dead.  A  detective  agency  has  been 
at  work  for  months,  and  twice  of  late  men  have  come  to  the  house  asking 
if  it  were  not  possible  to  find  somewhere  a  picture  of  Mr.  Worden  ;  but  Nita 
says  none  exist  that  she  knows  of.   I  believe  that  she  burned  all  that  she  had. 

"Why  will  she  not  trust  me  and  tell  rae  about  it, — she  who  used  to 
have  no  secret  from  me?  We  know  that  he  was  deeply  in  love  with  her, 
and  that  she  was  believed  to  care  for  him  ;  but  there  was  a  fearful  scene 
between  him  and  Mr.  Guthrie  over  poor  Jack's  body.  The  old  gentleman 
was  wild  with  grief,  and  in  his  misery  he  upbraided  Worden  as  the  cause 


A  SOLDIER'S  SECRET.  321 

of  it  all,— accused  him  of  being  the  thief,  and  cursed  him  for  concealing 
his  crime  at  the  expense  of  Jack's  life  and  honor.  Possibly  he  did  believe 
it  then  ;  but  since  Percival's  death  everything  is  changed.  I  believe  he 
would  give  all  he  owns  to  make  amends  to  Worden  now,  and  sometimes  I 
think  that  that  is  what  is  killing  Nita." 

"  'That  that  is  what  is  killing  Nita,'  "  read  Holden  again,  this  time 
half  aloud,  as  he  pondered  over  the  words.  Then  a  sound  at  the  door 
attracted  him.    He  glanced  up  quickly. 

"  Oh,  come  in,  sergeant.    I  did  not  hear  you  knock." 

'•  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  was  the  answer  in  Ellis's  deep  voice,  a  faint 
flush  rising  to  his  pale,  black-bearded  face.  "  I  knocked  twice  at  the  outer 
door,  and  then,  knowing  the  doctor  to  be  here,  ventured  into  the  hall.  Am 
I  too  early,  sir?" 

"  You  are  just  in  time.  Come  in.  Shut  that  door  and  sit  down.  How's 
the  arm  to-day,  Ellis?" 

Obediently  the  tall  trooper  had  stepped  within  and  closed  the  door,  but 
he  still  remained  erect,  a  shade  of  hesitation  in  his  manner.  "The  arm 
seems  doing  well,  sir." 

"And  yet  you  yourself  do  not  pick  up  as  I  could  wish.  Take  that 
chair,  Ellis ;  we  shall  not  be  interrupted,  and  I  want  to  talk  with  you 
about  your  case.  You  have  won  honor  and  troops  of  friends  in  this  cam- 
paign, and  when^the  regiment  gets  back  and  they  And  you  pale  and  languid, 
so  utterly  unlike  yourself  and  unfit  to  take  your  duties  as  first  sergeant, 
they  will  say  I  was  at  fault.  Can't  stand  that,  you  know  :  so  I  have  spoken 
to  Major  Kenyon  about  the  matter,  and  he  has  directed  that  you  move  out 
of  hospital  forthwith  and  under  my  roof.  No,  keep  your  seat.  You  are  to 
report  to  me  for  special  duty  in  making  up  the  field  papers  and  reports,  and 
I  shall  need  you  right  hei'e  where  I  can  supervise  it  all  and  look  after 
you." 

For  a  moment  the  two  men  sat  gazing  straight  into  each  other's  eyes. 
Then  again,  trembling  slightly,  Ellis  strove  to  rise. 

"  Dr.  Holden,  I — I  ought  not  to  take  advantage  of  this.  Indeed,  I 
cannot." 

"  That  will  do,  sir,"  was  the  quietly  smiling  reply.  "  Orders  are  orders, 
sergeant,  and,  being  a  patient,  you  are  doubly  under  mine.  What's  more, 
you  can  ask  no  question  until  that  chevron  is  replaced  by  the  shoulder- 
strap.  Miis,  under  ivhat  name  shall  the  officers  of  the  Twelfth  ask  that  you 
be  made  one  of  their  number  f 

Making  no  reply,  the  sergeant  bowed  his  head  and  covered  his  face  with 
his  hands. 

Late  that  evening  old  Kenyon,  dropping  in  to  see  the  doctor,  found  the 
tall  cavalryman  seated  at  a  desk  in  Holden's  library,  and,  as  he  promptly 
arose  and  stood  erect  in  acknowledgment  of  the  presence  ot  the  post  com- 
mander, the  major  strode  straight  up  to  him  and  held  out  his  hand  : 

"Sergeant,  I  am  as  proud  and  pleased  as  your  own  father  could  be. 
When  a  whole  regiment  recommends  a  man  for  a  commission,  as  this  day's 
mail  tells  us,  it's  worth  more  than  all  the  senatorial  backing  in  Columbia. 
It  may  not  fetch  it,  but  I'd  rather  have  it.  Now,  have  you  any  friends  to 
aid  you?" 

"  None  in  the  world,  sir." 

"  No  relatives?  no  kin  ?    Not  even  a  Congressman ?" 

"  Not  even  a  Congressman.     A  sister,  perhaps  ;  but  that  is  all." 

"  Well,  well,  well !  Never  mind,  though,  my  lad  ;  we'll  see  you  through. 
What  you  must  do  is  get  strong  and  well.  You're  but  the  ghost  of  your- 
self, and  the  doctor  and  I  have  moved  you  over  here  as  a  matter  we  owe  the 
regiment.  I  thought  you  were  told  to  go  to  bed  an  hour  ago.  Which  is 
your  room?" 

"The  doctor  has  given  me  the  run  of  the  top  floor,  sir,  but  mine  is  the 
front  room  on  this  side,"  answered  Ellis,  gravely. 

"Well,  it's  time  for  you  to  turn  in  :  so  I  order  it.  Let  me  see.  This  is 
the  25th  of  January.  A  month  from  now,  or  two  at  most,  I  hope  to  see 
you  with  a  strap  on  your  shoulder,  and  long  before  that  with  the  flush  of 
health  in  your  cheek.  Now  good-night  to  you,  and  pleasant  dreams." 
And  the  major  strode  away. 

Only  an  hour  after  sunset  the  silver  disk  of  the  moon  had  risen  cloud- 
less and  unveiled,  and  now,  as  the  bugle  was  calling  the  belated  ones  back 
Vol.  XLIX.--21 


322  ^  SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

to  the  post  for  night  inspection  of  quarters,  the  burnished  shield  was  high 
aloft,  flooding  tlie  broad  valley  with  its  radiant  sheen,  throwing  black 
shadows  upon  the  broad  road-way,  the  white  picket-fence,  the  glistening 
verandas  at  the  post.  Holden,  returning  from  a  late  visit  to  some  of  his 
patients  at  the  hospital,  stojjped  and  looked  quickly  and  intently  up  at  the 
little  gallery  overhanging  the  eastward  Avail.  In  the  front  room,  that 
which  he  had  assigned  to  Ellis,  a  light  burned  dimly.  The  Venetian  window 
of  the  rear  room  leading  to  the  gallery  was  dark,  yet  open,  and  on  the 
little  ledge,  leaning  against  the  casement,  the  moonlight  gleaming  on  his 
face  and  form,  a  tall  soldier  was  gazing  intently  eastward.  Quietly  Holden 
strode  along,  entered  the  gate,  went  noiselessly  into  the  hall  and  up  the 
stairs.  The  door  from  Nita's  room  to  the  landing  stood  wide  open.  At 
this  juncture  a  person  standing  outside  would  have  seen  the  silent  occupant 
of  "Robbers'  Roost"  turn  with  sudden  start  and  peer  into  the  room,  for 
Holden,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  gleaming,  glistening  space  between  the 
two  rear  windows  and  just  over  the  toilet  table,  had  purposely  dropped 
his  heavy  stick  with  resounding  clatter  upon  the  landing  floor.  "  I  thought 
so,"  he  muttered,  in  serene  satisfaction.  Then,  picking  up  his  stick,  he 
calmly  strolled  across  the  threshold  and  into  the  dark  room. 

"  Beautiful  view  of  a  moonlight  night,  Ellis.    That  was  Miss  Guthrie's 
favorite  perch  when  she  was  here." 


XV. 

A  great  city  is  draped  in  mourning.  On  every  side,  at  half-staff,  the 
national  flag  hangs  limp  and  lifeless  in  the  moist  and  misty  air,  as  though 
of  its  own  volition  drooping  in  honor  of  the  soldier  dead.  Under  the 
sodden  skies,  through  thronged  yet  silent  streets,  in  long,  long  column 
chosen  detachments  of  soldiery  are  leading  to  its  final  resting-place  the 
shrouded  clay  of  him  who  to  such  glorious  purpose  had  led  the  Union  blue 
in  every  field  from  the  Mississippi  to  the  sea,  and  who  through  long  years 
of  honored  service  ranked  foremost  on  the  rolls  of  the  army, — foremost, 
perhaps,  in  the  great  heart  of  the  people.  For  days,  as  though  in  sympathy 
with  the  wide-spread  grief,  the  heavens  have  poured  their  floods  upon  the 
brown  and  leafless  slopes.  All  nature  seems  plunged  in  wintry  gloom. 
The  black  smoke  from  a  host  of  stacks  and  chimneys  has  settled  down  upon 
the  silent  city,  covering  it  like  a  pall.  From  North  and  South,  from  East 
and  West,  battalions  and  batteries,  national  and  State,  have  been  concen- 
trating to  take  part  in  the  last  honors  to  the  illustrious  chief,  and,  dripping, 
yet  disciplined,  without  the  stir  of  martial  music,  the  men  have  marched 
from  the  trains  to  the  rendezvous  assigned  them  about  the  town. 

At  last  the  hour  has  come.  The  weeping  skies  have  checked  their 
tears.  The  streets  and  sidewalks  along  the  line  of  march  swarm  with 
ci*^izens  whose  hushed  voices  and  reverent  mien  speak  eloquently  of  their 
sense  of  the  national  loss.  From  many  a  stately  mansion  and  modest 
homestead  out  beyond  the  business  section  festoons  of  black  are  fluttering 
in  the  rising  breeze,  the  flag  is  twined  witli  crape,  the  windows,  balconies, 
and  steps  are  alive  with  spectators.  And,  far  out  on  the  westward  avenue, 
on  a  sheltered  portico  that  projects  from  a  solid,  old-fashioned  residence  of 
cut  stone  and  almost  overhangs  the  street,  there  is  gathered  a  little  bevy 
of  fair  forms  and  faces  which  we  saw  together  for  the  first  time  that  Indian- 
summery  afternoon  of  the  reception  at  Pawnee.  The  rapid  trot  of  order- 
lies and  mounted  police,  sent  ahead  to  warn  the  populace  off  the  street  and 
back  to  the  sidewalk,  and  the  distant  wailing  of  cavalry  trumpets  far  down 
the  avenue,  have  told  that  now  the  funeral  column  is  approaching;  and 
from  the  warmth  of  the  cosey  parlor,  well  wrapped  in  mantles  and  furs, 
the  ladies  have  come  forth  into  the  chilly  February  day, — Mrs.  Berrien, 
Mrs.  Holden  and  her  children,  Winifred,  whose  soft  cheeks  are  aglow  and 
whose  dark  eyes  turn  instantly,  eagerly  towards  the  head  of  the  advancing 
escort,  Nita  Guthrie,  pallid,  languid  when  unobserved  by  her  guests,  yet 
brightening  instantly,  bravely,  when  addressed,  and  striving  to  be  her  old 
gracious,  radiant  self  for  the  sake  of  these  and  other  visitors  from  Pawnee  ; 
for  the  Twelfth  has  been  detailed  especially  to  lead  the  escort  of  the  great 
commander,  and  all  the  way  from  the  frontier  and  only  a  few  days  home 


A   SOLDIER'S  SECRET.  323 

from  the  stirring  scenes  of  its  fierce  campaign  the  regiment  has  been 
brought  hither  by  the  orders  of  a  general  who  knows  their  worth  as  well  he 
knows  their  wrongs,  and  whose  soldier  heart  has  felt  for  them  in  all  their 
trials.  It  was  in  his  power  to  give  this  honor  to  others,  but,  though  his 
own  old  regiment  is  within  easy  call,  he  means  that  the  people  shall  see  for 
then^elves  what  manner  of  men  are  these  whom  press  and  pulpit  have 
assailed  and  against  whose  fair  fame  the  shafts  of  slander  have  been  hurled, 
only  to  fall  blunted  and  broken,  or,  like  boomerangs,  come  hurtling  back 
about  the  ears  of  the  thrower.  Vindicated  by  the  verdict  of  his  peers, 
doubly  vindicated  by  the  highest  powers  of  the  land,  gray -haired  Farquhar 
is  chosen  to  command  the  escort,  and,  though  the  flower  of  the  nation's 
soldiery  marches  in  the  funeral  train  this  day,  the  eyes  of  all  the  gathered 
throng  are  strained  to  see  and  hail  and  honor  the  standard  and  the  guidons 
of  the  men  who  bore  the  brunt  of  battle  only  two  short  months  gone  by. 

And  with  the  squadrons  and  the  guns  from  Pawnee  came  such  of  the 
wounded  officers  as  were  well  enough  to  be  transported  hither,  and  with 
them  half  a  dozen  of  the  ladies  of  the  garrison.  To  the  huge  delight  of  the 
old  battalion,  two  of  whose  troops  are  cruelly  thinned  in  numbers  now,  the 
jovial  major  is  permitted  by  Dr.  Holden  to  mount  "  Old  Glory"  and  take 
his  position  in  front  of  the  line.  To  the  tremulous  joy  of  Winifred  Ber- 
rien, Mr.  Brewster  has  telegraphed  from  Washington,  whither  he  was  sum- 
moned immediately  after  the  close  of  the  investigation  at  the  agency,  bid- 
ding them  bring  his  horse  and  equipments,  for  even  though  he  cannot  draw 
sabre  he  means  to  ride  with  "the  black  troop"  on  this  day  of  days.  She 
has  not  seen  him  since  that  wonderful  morning  when,  like  a  young  snow- 
king,  he  burst  through  the  fleecy  barriers  about  them  and  stood  before  her 
rejoicing  eyes  their  rescuer,  her  father's  preserver,  her  lover,  her  hero  ;  and 
ever  since'in  his  pride  he  has  held  aloof  from  her  and  all  she  holds  dear. 
She  can  hardly  hush  the  fluttering  of  her  heart  as  now,  near  at  hand,  she 
hears  the  familiar  strains  of  the  trumpets  of  the  Twelfth,  still  sounding  the 
mournful  dead-march.  Other  ladies  of  the  Twelfth  are  here,— Mrs.  Haz- 
lett,  Mrs.  Gorham,  and  Mrs.  Warren  ;  and  small  wonder  can  there  be  that 
their  soft  eyes  fill  with  tears.  Ever  since  the  brief  and  bloody  campaign 
the  sad,  solemn  tones  have  been  their  daily  music.  The  crape  is  not  yet 
rusting  on  the  sword-hilts  of  their  lords,  worn  in  honor  of  poor  Thorpe  and 
Rand  and  Burrows,  when  it  is  renewed  for  the  general-in-chief. 

And  now  the  crowds  have  drifted  back  from  the  asphalt.  The  platoon 
of  mounted  police  has  slowly  clattered  by.  Then  in  long  rank,  boot  to 
boot,  muffled  in  their  blue  overcoats,  the  yellow-lined  capes  turned  back, 
led  by  their  veteran  chief  and  guiding  their  spirited  grays  with  hardly  a 
touch  of  rein,  the  trumpeters  of  the  Twelfth  cover  the  street  from  curb  to 
curb,  the  brazen  bells  uplifted  and  pouring  forth  their  mournful  strains.  A 
little  space,  and  then,  mounted  on  mettlesome  bay  in  the  rich  housings  of 
a  general  officer,  there  rides  the  marshal  of  the  parade,  followed  by  rank 
after  rank  of  staff-officers,  all  in  the  sombre  dark  blue  of  the  service.  The 
autumn  frosts  of  a  vigorous  life  have  silvered  the  strands  at  his  temple  and 
•  tinged  with  ruddy  glow  the  cheeks  of  that  firm  and  soldierly  face,  but  the 
eyes  gleam  clear  and  keen  as  ever  they  shone  a  quarter-century  ago,  when 
he  and  Farquhar  spurred  through  the  misty  forest-aisles  about  Dinwiddle 
and  led  the  cheering  troopers  to  the  charge  on  Pickett's  crouching  line  at 
the  Forks.  He  knows  the  fair  party  on  the  Guthrie  balcony  at  a  single 
glance,  and  touches  the  visor  of  his  forage-cap  as  he  moves  slowly  by,  then 
summons  an  aide,  gives  him  a  low-toned  order,  and  the  officer  reins  aside 
to  let  his  comrades  pass,  then  jogs  back  down  the  avenue  to  meet  the 
column.  And  now  necks  are  craning  on  every  side,  and  a  murmur  runs 
along  the  crowded  banquette, — 

A  murmur  that  fain  would  break  forth  in  a  cheer, 

but  for  the  solemn  occasion  of  their  coming.  Eyes  gleam  and  brighten  ; 
lips  stir  with  inarticulate  greeting  ;  hands,  kerchiefs,  and  hats  are  waved  in 
voiceless  acclaim.  Any  other  time,  and  all  the  great  city  would  burst  into 
tumultuous  cheer,  for  "here  rides  gray-haired  Farquhar  at  the  head  of  his 
staflF,  and  just  behind  them,  commanding  the  Twelfth,  still  pallid  from  his 
wounds,  but  erect  and  soldierly  as  ever,  the  senior  major,  dear  old  Berrien, 
lowers  his  sabre  in  acknowledgment  of  the  salute  of  the  aide,  bends  his  ear 


324  A  SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

to  listen  to  the  message,  glances  quickly  at  the  balcony  into  the  smiling 
face  of  his  wife,  meeting  Winifred's  dark  and  glowing  eyes,  but  shakes  his 
head,  motions  to  Dr.  Holden,  who  is  at  liis  left  rear,  and  ambles  on.  Hol- 
den  nods  appreciatively  on  receipt  of  what  seems  to  be  a  similar  message, 
reins  out  of  column,  followed  by  his  orderly,  dismounts  at  the  side  street, 
and  presently  is  standing  by  his  wife's  side,  welcomed  most  cordially  by 
Miss  Guthrie  to  the  now  crowded  balcony.  In  column  of  platoons  stretch- 
ing from  walk  to  walk,  clear  across  the  street,  ranks  carefully  aligned,  every 
man's  head  and  eyes  straight  to  the  front,  the  leading  troops  of  the  Twelfth 
are  now  clinking  steadily  by.  Hazlett  has  glanced  out  of  the  corners  of  his 
eyes  at  the  lovely  picture  on  the  gallery,  but,  riding  at  attention  as  they  are, 
and  on  duty,  he  makes  no  sign.  Randolph  and  Ridgeway,  heading' their 
platoons,  strive  to  do  two  things  at  once, — look  as  though  they  saw  and 
aj^preciated  the  fluttering  greetings  of  hand  and  handkerchief  and  smiling 
eyes  to  their  right,  and  still  look  as  though  they  did  not  see  it  at  all.  The 
sorrels,  the  grays,  have  gone  by,  the  bay  troop  is  passing,  and  now  yonder 
comes  Gorham  over  on  the  other  side  of  the  street,  the  nearest  he  can  get  to 
his  regulation  position  of  four  yards  to  the  left  of  his  leading  platoon,  and 
out  from  the  sheltering  screen  of  tree-branches  and  in  front  of  the  centre 
of  the  first  subdivision  of  the  blacks,  his  sabre  arm  still  in  its  sling,  his  face 
pale  with  confinement  and  suffering,  but  tall  and  stalwart,  rides  Curly. 

"Oh,  there's  Mr.  Brewster!  Mr.  Brewster!  Oh,  why  doesn't  he  look?" 
cries  Miss  Guthrie,  as  the  handkerchiefs  begin  waving  furiously,  and  fair, 
eager  faces  press  forward  in  the  effort  to  attract  his  attention, — all  but 
Winifred,  who,  though  bravely  smiling  like  the  rest,  is  clutching  with 
trembling  hands  the  back  of  her  mother's  chair  and  shrinking  behind  her 
mother's  form.  It  is  impossible  for  him  not  to  see  the  fluttering  signals. 
He  lialf  glances  towards  that  thronging  gallery,  and  in  a  second  the  light 
leaps  to  his  eyes,  a  flush  to  his  pallid  cheeli.  Instinctively  his  arm  twitches 
in  the  efibrt  of  the  hand  to  reach  the  cap-visor,  and  the  instant  twinge  of 
shooting  pain  brings  him  to  his  senses.  He  has  one  brief,  fleeting  look, 
however,  at  the  beaming  face  he  loves,  and  he  has  just  time  for  a  half- 
gesture  with  the  bridle-hand,  a  little  nod,  and  then,  as  on  he  rides,  he  feels 
rather  than  sees  that  one  sweet  face  that  beamed  upon  him  has  suddenly 
paled,  that  one  graceful  form  is  now  staggering  back  into  Holden's  waiting 
and  expectant  arms.  Only  two  platoons  in  the  black  troop  to-day,  for  the 
others  sleep  beneath  the  wintry  sod  or  still  languish  in  the  hospital  ward. 
Only  two  platoons.  Brewster  heads  the  first ;  a  tall,  dark-eyed,  dark-mous- 
tached  sergeant  the  second.  . 

"  There's  Sergeant  Ellis  !"  cries  Mrs.  Berrien,  in  her  pride  and  pleasure. 
"  And  he's  shaved  off  his  beard  !  Did  you  ever  see  him  look  so  young  and 
well?" 

But  Mrs.  Holden,  too,  has  turned,  and  does  not  heed.  Her  watchful 
eyes,  her  attentive  ears,  have  other  work  to  do.  Obedient  to  her  hus- 
band's touch,  she  has  drawn  close  to  his  side.  It  is  into  her  arms  and  his 
that,  with  one  quick,  gasping,  stifled  cry,  Nita  Guthrie  has  fallen  as  though 
stricken  by  a  bolt  from  heaven.  It  is  by  these  loving  arms  the  limp  and 
prostrate  form  is  quickly  borne  within  and  laid  upon  the  sofa,  and  Holden 
whispers  to  his  devoted 'wife,  "  It  is  all  clear  now." 

That  night,  the  long  ceremonies  of  the  day  concluded,  a  throng  of  fair 
women  and  brave  men  are  gathered  in  the  parlors  and  corridor  of  the  great 
hotel.  Down  in  the  marbled  court  below,  some  Italian  musicians  are  play- 
ing soft,  sweet  music.  Out  in  the  street,  under  the  glare  of  the  electric 
light,  a  fine  regiment  of  State  troops  has  drawn  up  in  long-extended  line 
and  is  standing  at  ease  while  its  officers  are  bidding  farewell  to  a  host  of 
friends  upon  the  walks  below.  Here  and  above  are  soldiers  of  all  branches 
of  the  service,  who  with  the  morning's  sun  will  be  scattering  to  their 
stations  again.  Some  are  clustered  in  the  broad  vestibules  and  on  the  office 
floor.  Others,  the  juniors  mainly,  are  paying  their  respects  to  the  wife  of 
the  commanding  general  and  to  the  ladies  of  the  Twelfth,  for  on  the  mor- 
row they  too,  with  the  regiment,  take  flight  for  their  prairie  home.  The 
liour  is  iate,  and  several  of  those  present  have  just  come  in  from  a  some- 
what subdued  and  quiet  entertainment  given  in  their  honor  at  one  of  the 
beautiful  homes  of  the  city.  The  solemn  nature  of  the  duty  that  has  called 
them  hither  precludes  the  possibility  of  any  general  gathering,  but  the 
dinner  to  which  the  Berriens  and  others  were  bidden  has  lasted  so  long 


A  SOLDIER'S  SECRET.  325 

that  Winifred  began  to  believe  it  would  never  end,  and  Mrs.  Berrien  has 
seen  all  too  plainly  that,  though  she  strove  to  appear  joyous  and  apprecia- 
tive, her  daughter  longed  to  leave  the  scene  and  return  to  the  hotel,  where, 
as  was  well  known,  many  of  the  officers  were  to  spend  the  evening.  Not 
until  nightfall  had  the  Twelfth  passed  by  on  its  return  from  the  march  to 
the  distant  cemetery,  and  as  they  jogged  along  at  ease  one  or  two  of  the 
troop  or  platoon  commanders,  in  answer  to  joyous  hail  from  the  sidewalk, 
had  reined  out  of  column  by  old  Berrien's  permission  and  dismounted 
under  the  portico,  but  Brewster,  smiling,  had  shaken  his  head  and  gone  on 
with  his  blacks  to  the  muddy  cantonment  far  down  at  the  southern  verge. 
Winifred  was  already  dressed  for  dinner.  She  had  liastened  to  her  room  as 
soon  as  they  returned  from  the  Guthries',  andMrs.  Berrien  made  no  comment. 
She  well  understood  that  the  girl's  one  thought  was  to  be  ready  to  welcome 
if  he  should  come  :  there  was  no  telling  at  what  minute  he  might  be  an- 
nounced. And,  though  they  were  not  to  leave  the  hotel  until  nearly  seven, 
Winifred  was  ready  at  four.  The  mother  heart  yearned  over  her  child  as 
she  saw  how  the  shadows  deepened  in  her  dark  eyes  when  the  column 
went  on  out  of  sight  in  the  wintry  gloaming,  Bi'ewster  Avith  it.  At  that 
moment  she  could  almost  share  her  husband's  idea  of  bringing  the  young 
man  to  his  knees  then  and  there.  What  business  had  he  playing  the  in- 
different in  this  utterly  unsoldierly  fashion  ?  How  dare  he  treat  Winifred 
with  coldness?  Slie  had  done  him  no  wrong.  Not  since  that  night  of  the 
last  hop  at  Pawnee,  the  night  the  marching  orders  came,  had  there  been 
opportunity  for  the  girl  to  speak  to  him  at  all.  Of  course  the  major  had 
been  brusque  and  repellent,  and  had  virtually  forbidden  his  further  atten- 
tions ;  but,  heavens,  that  was  not  Winifred's  doing,  and  botli  the  major 
and  herself  had  endeavored  to  show  him,  without  unnecessary  allusion  to 
the  matter,  that,  whatsoever  might  have  been  the  suspicions  or  impressions 
aroused  by  the  singular  conduct  of  that  middle-aged  married  flirt  at  Paw- 
nee, they  no  longer  entertained  the  faintest  ill  opinion  of  him.  Indeed, 
Mrs.  Berrien  never  had.  Blue-blooded  herself,  her  faith  in  bon  sang  was 
deep-rooted.  She  had  always  liked  Brewster,  but  she  was  a  loyal  wife  and 
would  in  no  wise  act  counter  to  her  husband's  wishes.  It  was  now,  when 
Mr.  Brewster  seemed  allowing  his  pride  and  resentment  to  prompt  him  to 
this  undeserved  and  cruel  wounding  of  her  daughter's  heart,  that  Mrs. 
Berrien  first  felt  any  unkindliuess.  She  could  have  made  him  suffer  for  it, 
but  that  she  knew  it  would  hurt  Winifred  as  well.  Without  a  word,  but 
just  so  soon  as  the  last  of  the  yellow  cape-linings  disappeared  from  view, 
Winifred  had  turned  from  the  parlor  and  again  sought  her  room.  Mrs. 
Berrien  sent  a  bell-boy  for  Mr.  Randolph,  who,  having  dismounted  at  the 
entrance,  was  standing,  the  centre  of  a  group  of  friends,  in  the  marl^le- 
floored  office  below,  and  Randolph  came  up  witli  the  next  trip  of  the  ele- 
vator. 

"Do  you  go  with  us  to  the  dinner  at  the  A s' to-night,  Mr.  Ran- 
dolph ?" 

"  No,  Mrs.  Berrien  ;  I  believe  only  those  who  are  so  fortunate  as  to  be 
the  husbands  of  certain  ladies  of  the  Twelfth  are  bidden.  We  are  going  to 
have  a  little  gathering  here  to  see  Curly  off." 

"And  where  does  Curly  go? — and  when  ?" 

"Back  to  Washington  by  the  first  train,  Mrs,  Berrien.  He's  been 
offered  a  detail  at  the  War  Department." 

"  How  delightful  that  is  for  Mr.  Brewster  !  Why,  the  Twelfth  is  getting 
some  little  recognition,  after  all.  Up  to  this  moment  the  general's  welcome 
home  is  the  only  word  we've  had  from  a  soul.  Then  you'll  all  be  here  to- 
night, will  you?" 

"  Most  of  us.  Rolfe's  here,  too,"  laughed  Randolph,  "  but  he  sat  in  a 
deep  window  during  the  procession  and  doesn't  mean  to  show  in  public 
yet,  I'm  told  he  wants  to  make  up  with  Curly  before  he  goes  to-night,  but 
Curly  won't  let  him."  And  Randolph  knit  his  brows.  "  I  wouldn't  if  I 
were  Brewster.  Wouldn't  it  be  odd  if  they  took  the  same  train,  though? 
I  suppose  he  won't  care  to  exhibit  that  new  cheek  of  his  to  Miss  Guthrie, 
Will  she  be  here  after  the  dinner  ?" 

"  I  doubt  it,  Mr.  Randolph.  Miss  Guthrie  is  not  at  all  well.  She  had 
a  sinking-spell  of  some  kind  this  afternoon  during  the  parade,  and  has  not 
left  her  room  since.  Say  to  Mr.  Brewster  for  me  that  we  shall  hope  to  see 
him  before  he  leaves,  will  you?    We'll  be  back  about  ten  o'clock." 


326  ^   SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

But  it  is  after  ten,  long  after,  that  now  they  are  gathered  in  the  parlors, 
and  music,  laughter,  and  the  sound  of  merry  voices  ring  through  the  wide 
corridors.  Winifred,  the  wistful  look  gone  from  her  dark  eyes,  a  soft  flush 
on  her  cheek,  is  standing  near  one  of  the  high  windows,  the  centre  of  a 
group  of  ladies  and  officers  among  whom  at  this  moment  is  Brewster,  his 
right  arm  still  in  its  sling.  Though  she  strives,  after  her  first  fluttering 
welcome,  not  to  glance  at  him  again,  just  now  at  least,  she  cannot  quite 
control  her  eyes.  She  cannot  but  mark  with  shy  delight  how  her  father's 
broad  palm  is  laid  upon  her  hero's  shoulder,  as  the  veteran  trooper  looks 
into  the  younger  soldier's  face  with  an  expression  she  is  thankful  to  see. 
All  around  the  big,  stiffly-furnished,  formal  room,  with  laughter  and  with 
gladness  old  friends  are  meeting  again  for  the  first  time  in  years,— one  at 
least  of  the  joys  of  our  nomad  army  life.  The  buzz  of  conversation,  the 
remarks  of  Mr.  Ridgeway,  who  clings  to  her  side,  and  the  sweet,  thrilling 
strains  of  "  Rigoletto,"  floating  up  from  the  rotunda,  fall  upon  listless  ears. 
Winifred  is  striving  to  catch  his  words,  for  now  her  mother  has  joined 
them,  and  her  cordial,  kindly  voice  mingles  with  those  about  her.  She 
cannot  hear  what  is  said,  except  in  mere  snatches,  a  word  here  and  there, 
but  she  can  and  does  see  that,  though  thoroughly  courteous,  Brewster  is 
dignified,  almost  unresponsive.  When  her  father  makes  some  jovial  allu- 
sion to  his  narrow  escape  at  the  Porcupine  and  would  apparently  refer  to 
Brewster's  rush  to  the  rescue,  the  latter  seems  to  wave  it  aside  and  turn  at 
once  to  another  subject.    Why  will  he  be  so — so  unlike  his  old  self? 

Hark  !  From  the  street  below  the  ringing  call  of  the  bugle  !  Randolph 
pokes  his  head  in  through  the  other  window  : 

"  Come  out,  all  of  you.  Come  and  see  them  march  away."  It  is  that 
handsome  regiment  from  the  Queen  City.  And  in  a  trice,  men  and  women, 
they  are  pouring  out  upon  the  roof  of  the  portico. 

'*  Come  along  !"  shouts  old  Berrien.  "  Come  along  !  Let's  give  'em  a 
cavalry  seud-ofF."  And  away  he  goes  at  the  heels  of  the  throng.  "Come, 
Berengaria,  you  want  to  see  this  regiment,  I  tell  you.  It's  a  beauty.  And 
such  a  band  !"     But  Berengaria  holds  back  an  instant. 

"  Winifred,  dear,  your  wraps  are  not  here,  and  I  fear  it  is  too  chilly  for 
you." 

"Oh,  I'll  throw  my  cape  over  her,"  bursts  in  Ridgeway.  "Just  the 
thing  ! — Come,  Miss  Berrien. — Where's  your  cape.  Curly?  You  bring  Mrs. 
Berrien,  will  you?"  And,  rejoicing  in  his  finesse,  Mr.  Ridgeway  offers  his 
arm. 

"My  cape's  down-stairs  in  the  office,"  answers  Brewster,  shortly. 

"Yes,  and  whatever  you  do,  Brewster,  don't  you  go  out  in  the  night 
air  without  it,"  quietly  remarks  Dr.  Holden  at  this  juncture,  as  he  follows 
the  party. 

"  Orders  are  orders,"  laughs  Mrs.  Berrien.  "  Sorry  for  you,  Mr.  Brewster, 
but  you'll  have  to  see  them  through  our  eyes. — Yes,  thank  you,  Mr.  Ridge- 
way," as  she  possesses  herself  of  that  young  trooper's  arm,  "  I  shall  be  very 
glad  of  your  cape."  And  Ridgeway,  with  one  stupefied  backward  glance, 
recovers  himself  and  goes. 

Winifred  is  still  standing  by  the  curtained  window,  half  hidden  by 
the  projection  of  the  chimney  and  its  marble  mantel.  Very,  very  lovely 
she  is  in  her  dinner  toilet,  a  simple  gown,  clinging  in  its  soft,  creamy  folds 
about  her  slender  form,  a  necklace  of  rare  pearls,  a  beautiful  quaint  old 
heirloom,  looped  below  her  fair,  rounded  throat,  its  pendant  rising  and  fall- 
ing rapidly,  unevenly  now,  for  her  heart  is  throbbing  hard.  One  moment 
Brewster  hesitates,  casts  a  quick  glance  around,  then  steps  forward  to  her 
side. 

"Possibly  we  can  see  from  this  window,  Miss  Berrien,"  he  says,  as  he 
raises  the  shade.     And  together  they  disappear  into  the  curtained  alcove. 

But  they  cannot  see.  This  window,  like  the  other,  looks  upon  the 
roof  of  the  portico,  and  the  backs  of  their  numerous  friends  are  visible,  but 
not  the  street,— not  the  departing  soldiery  in  whom  such  interest  is  felt. 
It  is  chilly  here  by  the  cold,  glassy  barrier.  A  bright  coal  fire  is  blazing  in 
the  grate.  Both  have  been  warned  not  to  take  cold,  yet  neither  seems  to 
think  of  that  fire. 

"  No,  I'm  afraid  we  can't  see  them  here,"  says  Winifred,  inanely.  "  But 
won't  you  go  and  get  your  cape?" 

"  I  saw  them  to-day,  and  I  can  see  them  again  to-morrow." 


A  SOLDIER'S  SECRET.  327 

"  To-morrow  ?  Where  ?"  Aud  now  the  dark  eyes,  full  of  trouble,  glance 
quickly  up. 

Hear  those  sounds  from  below  !  The  shrill  voice  of  the  colonel :  "  Column 
of  fours.  Break  from  the  right  to  march  to  the  left."  The  inevitable  boom, 
boom,  br-r-oom,  boom,  boom,  of  the  drums.  Loud  plaudits  aud  cheers  from 
the  crowd.  Lively  applause  from  the  portico.  Low  voices  are  indistin- 
guishable here  at  the  window.  Brewster  pulls  down  the  shade  ;  it  may 
shut  out  the  noise,  thin  as  it  is,  and,  so  long  as  one  can't  see  anything,  why 
have  it  up  ? 

"  Wliere  ?"  she  repeats.     "  I  thought  they  went  East,  and  that  we " 

But  she  gets  no  further.  The  pearl  pendant  is  rising  aud  failing  hke  a 
storm-tossed  shallop.  Her  slender  lingers  are  nervously  twisting  and  un- 
twisting her  filmy  handkerchief.  Tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  echoing  the  drum- 
beats, the  columu  of  fours  is  striding  away  down  the  applauding  thorough- 
fare. Then,  as  the  band  clears  the  left  flank  of  the  line  and  opens  out 
across  the  street,  joyous,  spirited,  ringing,  it  bursts  into  martial  song. 
Where  had  she  heard  that  introduction  before  ?  Surely  there's  something 
familiar.    But  she  has  no  time  to  think  of  tliat  now. 

"  I  supposed  -you  never  cared  for— detached  service,"  she  falters.  "  But 
— is  it  your  wound?" 

He  shakes  his  head  : 

"Three  months  ago  I  would  not  have  left  the  regiment.  Now  I  am 
better  anywhere  away  from  it." 

Oh,  Curly,  Curly  !  "  What  fools  these  mortals  be  !"  You  should  have 
sense  enough  to  see  how  uttei'ly  the  situation  has  changed.  You  ouglit  to 
know  that  something  more  tlian  gratitude  has  prompted  all  old  Berrien's 
clumsy  efforts  at  cordiality.  You  ought  to  see  i)y  Mrs.  Berrien's  unaffected 
kindliness  that  the  cloud  has  been  dispelled.  Wliy  stand  in  your  own  light, 
a  victim  to  this  bumptious  pride,  striving  to  persuade  yourself  that  had  it 
not  been  for  the  fortunes  of  war  her  father  would  have  interposed  to-day  ds 
sternly  and  positively  as  he  did  before,  and  she— she  would  probably  have 
as  meekly,  tamely  submitted  as  she  did  that  bitter  night  of  parting  at  the 
gate?  Can  you  never  forgive  that  unresponsive  hand,  that  half-shrinking, 
constrained  good-by? 

He  is  silent,  waiting  for  her  reply.  He  will  not  look  at  her,  for  her 
beauty  dazzles,  almost  drives  him  wild  with  passionate  love  and  longing. 
He  has  worsliipped  her,  adored  her  as  loyal  kniglit  might  worship  his  queen 
of  love  and  beauty.  Down  in  his  heart  of  hearts  her  image  has  lived 
tlirough  every  instant  of  the  fierce  campaign,  and  reigns  there  now,  rebel 
ajjainst  it  thougli  he  may.  Her  silence  daunts  him.  If  he  had  thought  to 
pique  or  trap  her  into  questioning,  it  was  unworthy  of  his  love  and  her. 
Her  little  hands  are  clasping  now.  She  has  started,  raised  her  head,  is 
listening  intently.  Absorbed  only  in  her,  in  his  love,  in  his  wrongs,  Brews- 
ter has  lost  all  ear  for  tlie  thrilling,  martial  music  growing  fainter  and  fainter 
down  tlie  street,  but  the  look  in  her  sweet  face  startles  iiira.  The  color  has 
fled.  The  dark  eyes  are  dilating.  One  little  hand  is  uplifted,  as  if  to  ward 
off  any  other  sound.  Borne  on  the  uight  wind  the  strains  come  full  and 
rich  upon  the  ear.  No  wonder  tlie  girl  is  silenced,  stunned.  Oil  for  the 
clasping  mother's  arms  now  !  Oh  for  the  love,  the  wordless  sympathy,  that 
was  hers  that  cold,  gray  wintry  morning  wlien  the  battalion  with  its  loved 
ones  strode  buoyantly  away  down  the  winding  road  at  Pawnee  !  All  the 
heart-breaking  sorrow,  all  the  vague,  throbbing,  quivering  pain,  come  back 
to  her  again  as  now  she  leans  breathless  against  the  casement,  listening  to 
the  same  sad,  sweet,  tearful  old  song, — 

Love  not,  love  not,  ye  hapless  sons  of  clay ! 

One  instant  only  she  stands  trembling  there,  then  a  great  sob  surges  up  in 
her  throat,  and,  burying  her  face  in  her  hands,  she  bursts  away,  she  runs 
she  knows  not  whither.  Out  into  the  deserted  corridor,  along  the  carpeted 
aisle,  she  speeds.  Then  to  her  left,  wide  open,  brightly  lighted,  she  spies 
the  elevator,  and,  with  the  leap  of  hunted  hare  to  its  form,  she  springs 
within.  No  one  there.  She  tries  to  shut  the  sliding  door,  but  now  some 
one  is  there, — Brewster, — and  his  one  arm  is  too  strong  for  her  two.  An 
instant  more  and  he  is  with  her,  blessing  the  fates  that  had  carried  off  the 
attendant  for  a  surreptitious  look  at  the  departing  regiment.    With  quick 


328  ^  SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

decision  Curly  pulls  the  starting-rope,  and,  when  the  car  has  glided  softly 
upward  just  half-way  to  the  next  floor,  checks  its  motion,  then  springs 
to  her  side.  Never  till  that  instant  had  he  known  the  full  misery  of  a 
crippled  and  useless  arm. 

"Winifred,  sweet  one,  listen  !"  he  cries,  seizing  a  slender  wrist  and 
striving  to  draw  her  hand  away,  as,  sobbing,  she  crouches  in  tlie  corner  of 
the  cage,  while  his  brave  young  heart  is  thumping  with  a  joy  and  exulta- 
tion it  never  knew  before.     His  blue  eyes  are  aflame  with  love  and  gladness. 

"  Listen  !    Don't  cry  so  !    I  must  tell  you." 

R-r-r-r-ring  !  goes  the  confounded  elevator-bell.  She  springs  to  her  feet, 
stifling  her  sobs,  conquering  her  womanly  weakness. 

"  Oh,  do  let  me  out !"  she  cries,  dashing  away  the  tears. 

"I  won't,"  he  answers,  with  such  joyous,  teasing  triumph  in  his  deep 
tones.  "  Though  a  million  men  a  minute  ring  that  bell,  I'll  never  let  you 
go  now, — never.     You  cruel,  wicked,  heartless  girl,  you  sent  me  away " 

"  Oh,  do  let  me  out,  Mr.  Brewster  !"  she  pleads.  "  Indeed  you  must." 
(R-r-r-r-r-riug.)     "  Tiiere's  that  awful  bell  again." 

"You  sent  me  away,"  he  calmly  continues,  while  his  eyes  dance  and 
gleam,  "  utterly  miserable  because  of  your  coldness  and  constraint.  You 
knew  I  worshipped  the  very  ground  you  stood  upon.     You  knew  I  loved 

you  better  than  anything  in  the  wide  world "     (R-r-r-r-r-r-    B-r-r-r-r-r- 

ring  !) 

"  I  must  go,"  she  pleads,  struggling  hard  to  free  the  hand  he  has  clasped. 
"Oh,  do,  Mr.  Brewster!" 

"  You  shall,— you  shall,  the  very  instant  you  have  paid  toll,  Miss  Ber- 
rien," he  laughs,  low.  (R-r-r-r-r-r-  B-r-r-r-r-ring !)  "I'll  put  you  out  on 
any  floor  you  wish  when  you  have  said  just  two  words." 

"Oh,  quick  !  Do  let  me  go  !"  And  she  makes  a  frantic  lunge  at  the 
starting-rope,  but  too  late.  His  daring  arm  is  round  her  now.  He  can  use 
but  one,  and  that  has  enfolded  and  drawn  her  close  to  his  breast.  The 
clatter  of  the  bell  is  deafening.  "Oh,  please,"  she  murmurs,  struggling  in 
vain,  and  glancing  up  in  his  glorified  face. 

"  Not  until  you  say,  '  Yes,  Carroll.'  Now,  quick  !  Winifred,  do  you  love 
me,  just  a  little?"  No  answer.  Head  bowed  again,  and  now  on  tlie  only 
available  resting-place.  (B-r-r-r-  B-r-r-r-r-r-  B-r-r-r-r-EiNG !)  "I  can't 
hear,"  he  laughs  low  and  joyously,  and  the  blond  head  bows  until  the  curl- 
ing moustache  is  sweeping  her  flushed  and  tear-wet  cheek.  "  Did  you  speak, 
Miss  Berrien?" 

"Yes,  Carroll."     A  mere  whisper. 

"  Louder,  please.  Miss  Berrien."  Oh,  what  eloquence  there  is  in  that 
one  clasping  arm  ! 

"Oh,  please  let  me  go!  Yes,  yes.'  yes  !— if  I  must."  And  then  the 
bell  rattles  madly,  but  unavailingly,  and  for  the  instant  neither  hears.  For 
the  instant  she  can  speak  no  more,  for  the  soft,  red  lips  are  sealed. 

Two  minutes  later,  as  that  brightly-lighted  car  glides  down  and  comes 
to  a  stop  at  the  parlor  floor,  a  flushed  and  wrathful  youth  confronts  the  tall 
cavalryman  who  calmly  steps  forth  as  though  on  air  and  holds  out  a  warn- 
ing hand. 

"  Young  man,  if  ever  I  hear  of  you  quitting  your  post  again  and  allowing 
a  novice  to  get  caught  between  floors  you'll  get  into  trouble.  It's  lucky  for 
you  I'm  the  only  one  who  can  tell  anything  about  it  this  time."  But  the 
wrath  is  gone,  and  with  bulging  eyes  the  boy  glares  at  the  round  gold  piece 
in  his  palm,  then  at  the  vanishing  lieutenant,  and  then  into  the  empty  car. 

Homeward  bound  !  The  horses  are  all  aboard.  The  second  battalion 
has  steamed  away.  Berrien's  men  from  the  car  windows  are  answering  the 
cheers  of  the  crowds  of  citizens  assembled  to  see  them  off,  The  ladies, 
safely  ensconced  in  the  cosey  interior  of  the  Pullman,  are  saying  adieu  to 
the  number  of  friends,  army  and  civilian,  who  have  accompanied  them  to 
the  train.  The  conductor  has  just  reported  "  All  ready,  sir,"  to  Major  Ber- 
rien, who  goes  back  in  command,  and  Winifred,  clinging  to  her  mother's 
side,  peers  eagerly  over  the  heads  of  the  surrounding  throng.  Holden  sig- 
nals to  his  better  half  to  come  off,  unless  she  j)refers  going  back  to  Pawnee 
without  him,  and  with  much  laughter  and  playful  effort  to  keep  her  aboard, 
in  which  the  jovial  major  is  most  prominent,  that  popular  young  matron  is 
finally  lifted  from  the  rear  platform.    Mr.  Ridgeway,  who  has  attached  him- 


A   SOLDIER'S  SECRET.  329 

self  to  Miss  Berrien's  side,  becomes  suddenly  aware  that  she  has  disap- 
peared and  returned  to  the  interior,  also  that  Curly  Brewster,  waving  a 
brown  telegraph  envelope  over  his  head,  has  shouldered  his  way  into  the 
cTowd  and  is  making  for  the  car.  "Wants  another  good-by  word,  I  sup- 
pose," growls  Kidgeway  to  himself,  in  deep  disgust,  yet  comforted  with 
the  thought  that  the  train  will  be  oft"  in  a  moment,  leaving  Brewster  be- 
hind. Far  forward  a  bell  begins  to  ring,  the  steam  to  hiss  ;  the  couplings 
of  the  box-cars  jerk  and  strain  ;  the  horses  snort  and  stamp  in  their  wooden 
cages  ;  the  motion  reaches  the  rear  of  the  train,  and  the  Pullman  leaps  for- 
ward with  sudden  start,  then  settles  into  slow,  gentle  ghde  along  the 
polished  rails. 

"  Tumble  off,  Brewster  !"  shouts  Ridgeway,  in  feverish  anxiety.  "  You'll 
be  carried  away  if  you  don't." 

"Shut  up.  Ridge,"  whispers  Randolph,  unsympathetically.  "He's 
carried  away  for  good.     It's  you  that's  left." 

"Why,  hello!  here's  Brewster!"  booms  the  major,  as  he  enters  the 
sunshiny  car,  when  at  last  the  crowded  station  has  faded  from  view. 
"Thought  you  were  ordered  to  Washington,  lad?  Changed  your  mind, 
eh? — What,  Berengaria?" 

"  Be  quiet,  Dick,"  whispers  his  smiling  wife.  "  He  hasn't  changed  his 
mind.    Neither  has  Winifred." 

But  Holden  is  not  the  only  one  of  the  Pawnee  party  who  remains. 
Sergeant  Ellis  has  a  furlough  to  visit  Louisville,  and  is  to  take  the  train 
thither.  In  his  cavalry  uniform  he  was  at  the  station  to  see  his  comrades 
safely  started,  and  the  last  cheers  of  the  troopers  were  for  him,  as  he  stood 
with  kindling  eye  and  flushing  cheek,  the  centre  of  a  crowd  of  curious 
citizens.  As  the  train  disappears  around  the  distant  curve,  Holden  touches 
his  shoulder. 

"At  noon,  Ellis?" 

"  At  noon,  sir,"  is  the  prompt  response  ;  and  the  sergeant  recovers  him- 
self, and,  springing  to  attention,  raises  his  hand  in  salute.     Holden  smiles. 

"  I  fancy  that's  about  the  last  time  you'll  be  doing  that  sort  of  thing," 
he  says,  significantly. 

"  You  may  rest  assured  that  the  impulse  will  remain,  doctor.  It  is 
the  outward  sign  of  an  inward  respect  that  every  day  has  only  served  to 
strengthen." 

At  noon  Holden  is  at  the  hotel  with  a  carriage,  anct  Ellis,  transmogri- 
fied, a  decidedly  distinguished-looking  civilian,  steps  forth  from  the  vesti- 
bule and  joins  the  doctor. 

"To  Warren  L.  Guthrie's  oflBce,"  is  the  brief  order,  and  the  carriage 
tKjlls  rapidly  away. 

"Mrs.  Holden  is  with  Miss  Guthrie  now,"  says  Holden,  after  a  mo- 
ment's silence.  "  As  yet  she  is  to  be  told  nothing, — as  you  desire ;  but 
should  we  hear  favorably  as  to  the  commission  befoi-e  our  return  to  Paw- 
nee  ?"  he  asks,  tentatively. 

"No,  doctor.  If  we  meet  again  it  must  be  as  I  was,  not  what  this 
campaign  has  made  me." 

"  What  you  have  made  yourself,  man  !  Don't  talk  of  it  in  that  way. 
The  Lord  made  you  a  gentleman.     You  made  yourself  a  soldier." 

Ellis  smiles. 

"A  gentleman  despite  night  prowling  and  petty  larceny?" 

"  Well,"  says  Holden,  "  that's  something  I  leave  you  to  settle  with  her. 
It  seems  you  only  carried  out  a  fair  warning,  though  of  course  you  had  no 
idea  of  the  ghastly  effect  it  would  have.  But  you  never  told  me  how  you 
reached  that  balcony." 

"  Easily  enough,  doctor.  I  simply  took  a  light  rope  and  grappling- 
hook  from  the  flre-house,  climbed  up  the  rear  porch  at  the  end  away  from 
where  Kathleen  and  Murphy  were,  went  along  the  south  slope  of  the  main 
roof  to  the  chimney,  slung  the  rope  about  it  and  lowered  myself  gently  to 
the  balcony,  then  threw  off  my  overcoat  and  stood  at  the  open  window. 
She  had  gone,  and  I  thought  I  was  too  late,  but,  catching  sight  of  the  very 
picture  whose  return  she  had  demanded  and  which  I  had  sworn  to  have 
again  as  well  as  to  see  her,  I  was  just  entering,  when  I  heard  her  step  upon 
the  stairs.  I  did  not  see  her.  I  do  not  see  how  it  was  possible  for  her  to 
see  me ;  yet  there  came  that  scream  of  terror  and  the  fall  and  then  the 
rush.    It  all  flashed  over  me  in  an  instant  that  I  had  been  guilty  of  a  mad- 


330  ^  SOLDIER'S  SECRET. 

brained  prank,— that  it  would  never  do  to  be  caught  there  ;  it  could  never 
be  explained,  I  was  up  on  the  roof  in  a  second,  snatched  away  the  hook 
and  rope,  crouched  down  to  the  back  porch,  waited  a  moment  for  Murphy 
and  Kathleen  to  run  inside,  then  slid  to  the  ground,  hid  the  rope  under  the 
wood-pile  in  the  dark  cellar,  squeezed  through  a  gap  in  the  fence  into 
the  captain's  yard  next  door, — they  were  all  over  at  the  Hazletts', — then 
donned  my  overcoat  and  joined  the  men  running  up  from  the  laundresses' 
quarters.  Late  at  night,  as  the  sentry  told  Captain  Rolfe,  I  went  back, 
ostensibly  to  get  my  pipe,  and  recovered  the  rope  and  hook.  That  was 
all." 

Holden  ponders  a  moment : 

"My  wife  has  told  me  what  she  knew  of  your  interview  with  Mr. 
Guthrie  after  poor  Jack's  death  ;  but  Miss  Guthrie  would  never  speak  of 
what  passed  between  herself  and  you." 

On  the  pale,  clear-cut  face  the  lines  of  care  and  sorrow  and  privation 
seem  to  deepen.  The  shadows  darken  about  the  mournful  eyes.  "  I  sup- 
pose I  should  never  have  blame^  her  as  I  did,"  he  answers,  "  but  I  was 
mad  with  grief  over  Jack,  with  helpless,  hopeless  indignation  over  Per- 
cival's  accusation  ;  and  then,  of  all  others,  to  have  her  turn  against  me  as 
she  did, — that  was  the  bitterest  cup  !  Her  father's  influence  in  her  ovei'- 
wrought  condition  was  what  did  it,  I  suppose  ;  but  she  drove  me  from  her 
sight  as  though  I  were  indeed  a  felon,  demanded  the  return  of  every  line 
and  trinket  she  had  ever  given  me, — even  that  prized  little  carte  de  visite  I 
had  carried  about  me  for  a  year.  It  w^as  then,  when  she  declared  she  would 
never  look  upon  my  face  again,  that  I  went  wild  with  misery,  or  despair,  I 
suppose.  I  swore  that  sooner  or  later  she  should  see  me,  and  that  before  I 
died  her  picture  would  be  back  here  in  its  old  place,  and  then  I  left  her. 
God  knows,  the  experiences  of  the  years  that  followed  might  have  knocked 
the  romantic  nonsense  out  of  any  man.  My  poor  sister  seemed  to  be  the 
only  one  who  had  any  faith  left  in  me.  I  wandered  all  over  the  West  as 
Ralph  Erroll,  mining,  'grub-staking,'  working  like  a  dog.  I  was  starving 
in  the  Hills  when  Brewster  came  to  my  aid.  I  couldn't  take  his  money 
without  telling  him  something  of  my  story,  but  I  gave  no  names.  He 
doesn't  know  to-day  anything  about  the  old  trouble, — doesn't  dream  that 
he  well  knows  the  people  who  were  once  my  most  cherished  friends.  It 
was  through  him  I  enlisted,  and  within  three  months  a  mine  I  had  located 
and  yet  couldn't  sell  for  a  dollar  began  to  pay.  By  the  time  we  reached 
Pawnee  my  half-interest  in  it  proved  worth  all  my  years  of  toil.  Then  I 
thought  to  see  her  again, — tool?  my  furlough  at  the  very  time  her  father 
was  West  trying  to  find  me  and  undo  the  wrong  he  had  done,  and— you 
know  the  rest.  She  was  here,  and  I  returned  only  to  learn  that  she  was 
about  to  leave  and  that  Captain  Rolfe  was  her  accepted  lover.  Bearded, 
aged,  uniformed  as  I  was,  I  believed  she  would  not  know  me  even  if  we 
wei-e  to  meet  face  to  face  ;  and  believing,  more,  that  no  vestige  of  the  regard 
she  once  felt  for  me  remained,  believing,  too,  that  she  was  to  marry  Captain 
Rolfe,  I  was  bitter,  brutal,  mad  enough  to  strive  to  carry  out  my  vow. 
Twice  I  had  seen  her  on  that  balcony  on  the  moonlit  evenings,  and  I  de- 
termined that  the  night  of  her  departure  she  should  see  me  for  the  last 
time.  You  know  the  rest.  I  shaved  clean,  so  as  to  look  as  much  as  pos- 
sible as  I  did  in  the  old  days,  wore  my  civilian  dress,  and— nearly  killed 
her." 

"It  was  a  fearful  experiment,"  says  Holden,  gravely.  "About  the 
maddest  thing  you  could  liave  done." 

"  I  was  mad,  doctor,  when  I  heard  she  was  to  marry  him.  God  knows 
I  have  realized  it  daily,  hourly,  ever  since.  And,  yet,  how  could  she  have 
seen  me?    She  never  reached  the  door." 

"  Simplest  thing  in  the  world.  Nothing  but  the  old  principle  in  optics, 
—the  angle  of  incidence  and  the  angle  of  reflection.  That  mirror  over  the 
toilet  table  did  the  job.  I  saw  you  in  the  moonlight  at  the  balcony  window 
when  you  couldn't  see  me  in  the  dark  hall,  and  neither  of  us  could  liave 
seen  the  other  had  the  mirror  been  away.  Now  here's  Mr.  Guthrie's.  Mind 
you,  you've  got  to  make  amends  for  that  hair-brained  performance  at  "Paw- 
nee :  so  no  word  of  reproach  to  him.     He's  old  ana  broken." 

Three  minutes  later  the  clerk  has  retired,  after  ushering  Holden  and 
his  friend  into  the  private  office.  The  instant  the  latch  has  clicked,  a 
gray-haired,  sorrow-stricken  man,  tears  standing  in  his  fading  eyes,  hands 


A  SOLDIER'S  SECRET.  331 

quivering  and  trembling,  totters  forward,  and  might  have  fallen  but  for 
the  strong  arms  that  catch  and  clasp  him. 

"  My  boy's  friend  !  my  boy's  friend, — whom  I  so  wronged  !"  he  falters, 
and  then  for  a  while  there  is  solemn  silence. 

"Is  Mr.  Percival's  confession  complete,  and  have  you  seen  it?"  asks 
Ellis,  gently. 

"  I  have,  my  boy,  at  last." 

"  And  it  clears  me,  Mr.  Guthrie  ?" 

"Utterly  and  entirely,"  the  old  man  cries.  "I  thank  my  God  I  was 
wrong  ! — I  was  wrong  !" 

One  scene  more.  Pawnee  again.  The  night  train  has  come  from  the 
East.     Holden's  carriage  is  at  the  station,  and  so  is  Brewster. 

"All  right?— all  arranged?"  whispers  the  doctor,  as  he  springs  from 
the  car  and  grasps  the  lieutenant's  hand. 

"All  right !  Kenyon's  just  left  him,"  answers  Curly,  and  then  busies 
himself  lifting  the  merry  children  from  the  step,  welcoming  Mrs.  Holden, 
and  carefully  assisting  Nita  Guthrie  to  tlie  platform. 

"You  happy  fellow  !"  she  murmurs.  "How  can  I  congratulate  you? 
It's  announced,  is  it  not?"  And  for  a  moment  she  seems,  despite  pallor 
and  fatigue,  the  old  buoyant,  radiant  Nita. 

"Announced?"  answers  Curly.  "  My  mother-in-law  elect— God  bless 
her ! — says  my  face  announced  it  before  that  elevator  could  reach  the  lower 
floor." 

They  drive  rapidly  up  the  winding  road,  and,  though  plainly  nervous 
and  excited,  the  fair  guest  never  loses  her  presence  of  mind.  She  has  some- 
thing appreciative  to  say  as  they  pass  each  familiar  object, — the  lower  gate, 
where  the  spruce  sentry  stands  at  a  carry  in  salute  ;  the  guard-house,  where 
the  relief  is  just  forming;  the  broad  west  gate;  the  brightly-lighted  bar- 
racks across  the  parade ;  the  group  of  trumpeters  in  the  moonlight  out 
under  the  tall,  glistening  flag-staff.  Then  come  the  rush  of  Murphy  and 
Kathleen  to  open  the  door  and  assist  them  to  aliglit ;  the  rapturous  greet- 
ing between  the  children  and  their  Hibernian  friends ;  the  fragrance  of 
coffee  floating  in  from  tlie  kitchen  ;  the  hickory  logs  snapping  and  spai'k- 
ling  in  the  fireplace ;  the  old  familiar  rooms ;  the  swinging  lamp  in  the 
hall. 

"Welcome  to  Pawnee  once  more,  Nita,"  says  Holden,  clasping  both 
her  hands.  "We've  had  enough  of  pale  cheeks  and  drooping  spirits. 
We've  brought  you  here  to  recall  the  roses, — to  win  you  l)ack  to  joy  and 
health,  and  to  your  own  old  room,  Nita.  Now,  will  you  promise  not  to 
faint  this  time,  no  matter  what  spooks  you  see?" 

She  is  trembling  violently.  She  looks  into  his  beaming  face  with  eager, 
questioning,  imploring  eyes. 

"  Come,  dear,"  whispers  Mrs.  Holden.     "  I'm  going  up  with  you." 

The  doctor  summons  the  children  into  the  dining-room  to  see  the  lovely 
flowers  on  the  table.  Mrs.  Holden  twines  her  arm  about  her  cousin's  waist, 
and  up  the  stair  they  slowly  go.  Nita  trembles  more  and  more.  They  are 
within  a  few  steps  of  the  landing,  and  as  they  come  in  sight  of  the  open 
door  Nita  shrinks  closer  to  her  cousin's  side.  Three  steps  more,  and  in  the 
dark  chamber  there  gleams  that  silvery  shield  of  mirror  between  the  dim 
white  curtains,  reflecting  the  dazzling  moonlight  from  without.  They 
reach  the  landing,  and  Miss  Guthrie  pauses,  breathless,  unnerved.  She  can 
go  no  farther. 

"  Nita,  it  was  no  ghost  you  saw,"  whispers  Mrs.  Holden.  "  Shall  I  call 
him?" 

One  instant  the  blue  eyes  dilate,  wild  with  hope,  incredulity,  joy,  and 
fear,  all  intermingled.  Then  there  is  the  sound  of  quick,  springing  step 
along  the  hall.  A  tall,  dark-haired,  dark-eyed  soldier  fairly  leaps  towards 
them.  Nita  turns  quickly  at  the  sound,  and  then  with  outstretched  arms 
throws  herself  forward  to  meet  him.  No  terror,  no  anguish  now,  but,  as 
she  is  clasped  to  his  heart,  joy  unutterable  in  her  stifled  cry,  in  the  one 
word,— 

"Harold!" 

THE  END. 


332  ^^^  NEWSPAPER-MAN  AS  A   CONFIDANT. 

THE  NEWSPAPER-MAN  AS  A   CONFIDANT. 

[JOUBNALIST  SERIE&] 

THAT  newspapers  print  all  they  know,  is  a  popular  belief  held  by 
nearly  every  one. 

That  newspapers  print  more  than  they  know,  is  a  vulgar  belief 
held  by  that  large  and  ignorant  portion  of  every  community  which 
does  not  read  newspapers  to  be  informed,  but  to  be  interested  and,  if 
possible,  shocked. 

That  newspapers  print  all  that  they  hear,  is  a  supposition  entertained 
by  the  people  who  bring  what  they  think  is  news  to  newspaper-offices. 

That  newspapers  print  nothing  that  they  hear  from  irresponsible 
sources,  without  investigation,  is  the  truth,  known  to  all  trained  news- 
paper-men. That  they  do  not  print  all  they  know,  is  known  also  to 
all  trained  newspaper-men.  That  they  do  not  print  more  than  from 
one-tenth  to  one-half  of  what  they  know,  is  the  truth;  and  it  is 
known  only  to  one  or  two  men  in  every  newspaper-office,  whose  busi- 
ness it  is  to  decide  whether  a  "  §tory"  is  worth  "  following  out,"  and 
whether,  after  "  following  out,"  it  is  proper  for  publication.  Even 
these  men,  unless  they  are  of  an  introspective  and  retrospective  turn  of 
mind,  do  not  realize  the  enormous  quantity  of  chaff  they  winnow  for 
the  public's  daily  loaf. 

Fierce  as  competition  is,  there  could  to-day  be  started  in  every  large 
city  of  the  East  a  newspaper  which  would  outstrip  every  other  news- 
paper in  the  vital  interest  of  its  news  by  simply  printing  what  the 
other  newspapers  refused  to  print.  This  news  would  all  of  it,  too,  be 
within  legal  and  conventional  bounds  of  decency. 

Then  why  not  start  such  a  newspaper?  will  be  asked.  Such 
newspapers  have  been  started  in  plenty,  but  none  were  sustained. 

The  reason,  simple  though  seemingly  paradoxical,  is  that  the  stock 
in  trade  of  every  solidly-established  newspaper  is  the  news  it  does  not 
print.  In  other  words,  confidence  is  the  source  of  every  piece  of  really 
valuable  news;  and  to  maintain  that  confidence  and  obtain  that  news 
the  newspaper-man  must  daily  sacrifice  a  vast  amount  of  readily 
printable  and  vastly  readable  matter  the  publication  of  which  would 
cut  him  off  from  his  sources  of  supply. 

This  is  the  reason  why  the  newspaper-man  is  the  best  confidant  in 
the  world.  He  cannot  betray  confidences  in  type,  for  fear  of  cutting 
off  future  supplies  of  news.  He  cannot  betray  them  in  speech,  for 
fear  that  some  one  else  will  betray  them  in  type  and  thereby  expose 
him  to  the  reproaches  both  of  the  source  of  his  news  and  the  source 
of  his  income. 

If  the  theory  be  not  conclusive,  let  me  call  a  witness  to  the  fact. 
I  may  not  do  so  by  name, — too  many  thousands  know  it, — but  I  may 
describe  the  witness  as  a  man  who  for  a  dozen  years  has  been  con- 
nected with  the  administration  of  justice  in  one  of  the  great  Eastern 
cities.  His  language  was,  "  I  have  always  taken  newspaper-men  into 
my  confidence,  and  I  have  been  betrayed  but  once." 


LIPPINCOTTS   MAGAZINE  ADVERTISER. 


CAPTAIN  CHARLES  KING'S 
POPULAR  MILITARY  NOVELS 


"  As  descriptions  of  life  at  an  army  post,  and  the  vicissitudes,  trials,  and  heroisms  of  army  life  on  the 
plains  in  what  are  called  '  times  of  peace,'  the  novels  of  Captain  King  are  worthy  of  a  high  and  perma- 
nent place  in  American  literature.  They  will  hereafter  take  rank  with  Cooper's  novels  as  distinctively 
American  works  of  fiction." — Army  and  Navy  Register,  Washington,  D.C. 

The  Colonel's  Daughter.  Under  Fire. 

Captain  Blake.  Marion's  Faith. 

Foes    in   Ambush    (Paper,  50  centsj. 
l3mo.     Cloth,  illustrated,  $1.25. 


Waringf's  Peril. 

i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.00. 


Trials  of  a  Staff  Officer. 


Trooper  Ross  and  Signal  Butte. 

8vo.     Cloth,  illustrated,  $1.50. 

Kitty's  Conquest. 

Laramie ;  or,  The  Queen  of  Bedlam. 

Two  Soldiers,  and  Dunraven  Ranch. 

Starlight  Ranch,  and  Other  Stories. 

The  Deserter,  and  From  the  Ranks. 

A  Soldier's  Secret,  and  An  Army  Portia. 

Captain  Close,  and  Sergeant  Croesus. 

izmo.    Cloth,  $1.00;   paper,  50  cents. 

A  Tame   Surrender.      A  Story  of  the  Chicago  Strilce. 
l6mo.     Polished  buckram,  illustrated,  75  cents.  Issued  in  the  Lotos  Library. 

EDITOR    OF 

The  Colonel's  Christmas  Dinner,  and  Other  Stories. 

l2mo.     Cloth,  $1.25  ;   paper,  50  cents. 

An  Initial  Experience,  and  Other  Stories. 
Captain  Dreams,  and  Other  Stories. 

i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.00  ;  paper,  50  cents. 

"  From  the  lowest  soldier  to  the  highest  officer,  from  the  servant  to  the  master,  there  is  not  a 
character  in  any  of  Captain  King's  novels  that  is  not  wholly  in  keeping  with  expressed  sentiments. 
There  is  not  a  movement  made  on  the  field,  not  a  break  from  the  ranks,  not  an  offence  against  the 
military  code  of  discipline,  and  hardly  a  heart-beat  that  escapes  his  watchfulness." — Boston  Herald. 


Sold  by  Booksellers  everywhere,  or  mailed,  upon  receipt  of  price,  by  the  Publishers, 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT    COMPANY, 

7J5  and  7J7  Market  Street,  Philadelphia. 


m 
m 
m 

m 
@ 
m 
m 

m 
m 

W 


L1PPINC0TT8   MAGAZINE  ADVERTISER. 


' '  To  the  Public  -  - 

CHAMBERS'S    ENCYCLOP/EDIA 

-•--!  1897    EDITION  i-«- 

is  a  notable  improvement  on  all  other  encyclopaedias.  It  is  as  near  perfect  as  human 
skill  and  modern  progress  can  make  it.  The  order  and  method  of  treatment  make 
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All  its  subjects  are  so  arranged  that  the  uneducated,  as  well  as  the  learned,  can, 
without  difficult}-,  find  the  information  required,  and  the  subject  of  each  article  is 
treated  in  such  a  lucid,  simple,  and  popular  style  that  the  meaning  is  easily  appre- 
hended even  in  the  discussion  of  abstruse  themes.  The  information  conveyed  is  like- 
wise of  a  practical  character,  adapted  to  prepare  young  people  for  the  battle  of  life. 
These  qualifications  alone  make  this  new  edition  an  absolute  necessity  in  every  home. 

No  one,  however  busy,  can  afford  to  be  a  day  without  a  first-class,  up-to-date  ency- 
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PHILADELPHIA,   PA. 


RAYS  RECRUIT. 


BY 


CAPTAIN  CHARLES  KING,  U.S.A., 

AUTHOR     OF     "THE     COLONEL'S     DAUGHTER,"      "THE     DE.SERTER,"     "FROM     THE 

RANKS,"    "A   SOLDIER'S    SECRET,"    "SERGEANT    CRCESUS,"    "CAPTAIN 

CLOSE,"    "A   TAME   SURRENDER,"    ETC. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY. 


Copyright,  1897,  by  J.  B.  Lippincott  Company. 


Printed  by  J.  B.  Lippincott  Company,  Philadelphia,  U.S.A. 


LIPPINCOTT'S 
JyJONTHLY   J^AGAZINE. 


APRIL,    189  7. 


RAY'S    RECRUIT. 


M^' 


PRELIMINARY. 

To  Mr.  Darey  Hunter  Gray. 

DEAR  BOY, — As  foreshadowed  in  my  last,  the  concern  has 
gone  to  smash,  and  your  prospects  with  it.  When  its  affairs 
are  settled,  the  firm  of  Hunter,  Bloom  &  Co.  will  have  enough  to  pay 
its  funeral  expenses,  and  that's  about  all.  What  I  have  left  is  my 
wife's,  who  will,  I  trust,  be  able  to  support  me  until  certain  life- 
insurance  policies  become  due,  out  of  which  she  can  reimburse  herself, 
through  my  dying,  for  the  cost  of  my  living.  I'm  too  old  to  try 
again, — too  sad  to  care  much,  except  for  you. 

"  Your  father  was  my  dear  friend,  your  mother  my  beloved  sister. 
When  he  died  I  promised  him  I  would  be  a  father  to  you.  When  she 
died  her  last  words  were  a  plea  that  I  should  be  good  to  her  boy.  I 
accepted  both  trusts,  Darcy,  and — betrayed  both. 

"They  died  poor  :  I  was  rich.  They  would  have  had  you  learn 
to  carve  your  own  career,  and  I  loved  you  so  that  from  your  bright, 
brave  boyhood  you  were  spoiled  and  indulged  as  my  own  son.  I  gave 
you  the  best  I  had.  I  balked  you  in  only  one  desire,  that  of  going  to 
West  Point.  Harvard,  London,  Paris,  Berlin,  Vienna,  Rome,  and  the 
Riviera  were  your  educators.  I  planned  to  make  you  a  railway  mag- 
nate, when  you  hadn't  learned  the  first  principles  of  the  business.  I've 
accustomed  you  to  every  luxury, — to  a  life  of  careless  ease,  to  be  a 
dawdler  and  a  dilettante — isn't  that  what  you  call  it?  I  counted  on 
leaving  you  rich,  and  I  leave  you  ruined.  The  self-reproach — the 
misery  which  overcomes  me  as  I  write  these  words,  no  words  can  tell 
you. 

"I  know  what  you  would  write  and  say, — you  were  always  gener- 
ous; but,  Darcy,  don't  write,  don't  come, — just  yet.  Wait  until  you 
get — the  next  news.     Wait  until 

"However,  let   us   get   down   to    business.     Of  course   you  and 

485 


436  RAY'S  RECRUIT. 

Mrs.  Hunter  will  not  be  apt  to  see  much  of  each  other.  She  will 
mourn  me  less  than  you ;  and  you  more  than  I  deserve.  The  very 
little  nest-egg  your  mother  set  aside  for  you  is  intact.  With  accrued 
interest  it  amounts  to  some  eleven  thousand  seven  hundred  and  twenty 
dollars.  You  have  no  debts  to  speak  of,  have  you?  I've  paid  all 
you  ever  told  me  about,  twice,  I  think,  and  you  were  always  frank 
and  truthful.  That  little  sum,  with  what  you  have  to  your  credit  in 
the  Chemical  and  over  there  with  you,  represents  the  sum  total  of  your 
fortune.  You  never  needed  it  before,  and  so  I  never  happened  to 
mention  it  to  you. 

"  But  despite  your  defects  in  bringing  up,  for  which  I  am  responsible, 
you're  not  much  worse  off  than  if  you'd  gone  into  the  army  (I  hope 
you've  outlived  that  lunacy,  as  you  did  the  other  one  for — you  know), 
and  can  now  make  a  strike  for  yourself.  You  have  the  best  of  health, 
the  best  of  looks  (for  you  strongly  resemble  your  uncle  as  he  was  at 
your  age),  the  best  of  education  for  any  purpose  that  isn't  absolutely 
useful,  and  there  is  nothing  that  I  know  of  to  prevent  your  marrying  a 
fortune  as  I  did,  and  living  happy  ever  after — as  I  didn't. 

"  Don't  underrate  the  extent  of  ray  collapse — Bloom  got  away  with 
what  Wall  Street  left — or  of  my  love.  Thank  God  I  have  no  son  of 
my  own.  Thank  God  I've  only  you  to  kneel  to  and  say.  Forgive  the 
blind,  miscalculating,  but  utterly  humbled  old  fellow  that " 

But  here  the  eyes  of  the  man  seated  there  by  the  dancing  waters 
in  the  glad  April  sunshine  grew  so  blind  with  tears  that  he  could  read 
no  more. 

Out  on  the  blue,  translucent  waves  the  white  swans  were  paddling 
to  and  fro,  dipping  for  bread  tossed  by  the  lavish  hands  of  laughing 
children  and  their  white-capped  bonnes.  The  flashing  oars  of  many  a 
skiff  drove  through  the  sparkling  waters,  sending  snowy  little  surges 
breaking  from  the  sharp,  white  prows.  Fairy  yachts  and  swift  paddle- 
wheel  steamers  clove  the  mirror  surface  farther  from  the  shore,  and 
tossed  the  creamy  foam  along  their  billowing  wake.  Half-way  over  to 
the  Savoy  shore,  deep  in  the  shadow  of  the  mountains,  two  white- 
winged  barques  seemed  wooing  the  faltering  breeze,  for  not  a  leaf  was 
stirring  in  the  deep  green  foliage  that  shaded  the  path  along  the  sea 
wall.  Towering  high  aloft,  dazzling  in  the  sunshine,  the  snow-seamed, 
snow-capped  crags  blinded  the  eye  with  their  radiance  as  they  peered 
down  into  their  own  reflections  in  the  sombre  depths  at  their  shadowy 
base.  Away  to  the  eastward,  lovely  little  towns  and  villages  lay  at 
the  foot  of  the  vine-clad  slopes  of  the  northern  shore,  while  here  and 
there  a  venerable  ruin — castle,  convent,  or  fortress — stood  sentinelled  in 
bold  relief  on  some  projecting  height,  or  nestled  under  the  shoulder 
of  some  rocky  cliff,  close  to  the  water's  edge.  Near  at  hand,  in  the 
public  Place,  the  carrousels,  thronged  with  children,  old  and  young, 
were  spinning  madly  to  the  reedy  melodies  of  some  donkey-driven 
organ.  Waltz,  galop,  and  military  march  rioted  in  loud  rivalry,  and 
a  group  of  Italian  singers,  smiling  indomitably,  carolled  "  Funiculi 
Funicula"  in  nimble  opposition  to  a  Tyrolean  band  quacking  like  noisy 
ducks  in  the  pavilion  at  the  water's  edge.  The  bell  buttoned  page 
of  the  Beau  Rivage  was  still  darting  about,  distributing  letters  just 


RAY'S  RECRUIT.  437 

brought  in  by  the  grinniDg  facteu7\  ever  a-scent  for  tips,  and,  having 
still  three  or  four  undelivered  missives,  halted  in  front  of  the  Amer- 
ican. 

"  Pardon,  m'sieu',  but — ees  Mees  Langdon " 

"  Up  at  the  billiard-rooms,  probably,"  was  the  brusque  answer,  as 
Mr,  Gray  turned  hastily  away  to  hide  the  suspicious  moisture  in  his 
eyes. 

"  But  no.  I  'ave  been  there.  I  'ave  letters  for  her,  and  for 
M'sieu'  Sm— eet." 

The  gloom  in  the  tall  American's  face  deepened  perceptibly. 

"  Over  yonder,  possibly,"  he  answered,  with  a  sidewise  nod  of  the 
head  towards  a  little  arbor  "  far  from  the  madding  crowd"  at  the  east- 
ward edge  of  the  pretty  grounds;  then  turned  away,  impatient  of 
further  inquiry.  Some  men  were  chatting  eagerly  at  the  fountain  as 
he  passed.     One  of  them,  English  unmistakably,  hailed  him  jovially. 

"  Time  you  were  ready.  Gray.  You're  going  to  Chillon,  of  course." 
And,  with  a  true  Briton's  deep  disdain  of  foreign  names,  he  spoke  it 
as  it  was  spelled. 

"  No,"  was  the  answer ;  "  I'm  going  to  cool  off." 

"  Been  getting  a  red-hot  letter,  as  you  Yankees  say,  I  suppose," 
the  Islander  went  on,  impervious  to  satire. 

"That's  about  the  size  of  it,"  answered  Gray,  without  halting. 
Two  of  the  men  looked  after  him  with  no  little  concern  in  their 
eyes.  Others  hailed  him  as  he  passed  them  by.  Gray  was  evidently 
popular.  A  woman,  in  billowing  laces  and  a  parasol  chair,  smiled 
largely  upon  him  as  he  raised  his  straw  hat,  and  bade  him  pause,  but 
prevailed  not.  Two  younger  women,  in  trim  walking  attire,  nodded 
coquettishly  and  said  it  was  the  very  day  for  the  trip ;  them,  too,  he 
answered  only  vaguely,  and,  with  a  far-away  look  in  his  deep  blue  eyes, 
he  passed  on  to  the  telegraph  office,  and  the  group  of  smoking  men 
broke  up. 

"  Something's  amiss  with  Gray,"  said  one  of  the  party,  a  New- 
Yorker.     "  I'll  go  see." 

"  I  don't  see  what  there  was  in  the  size  of  the  letter  to  upset  him," 
said  the  Euglishman,  unconscious  of  slang  that  was  not  Britannia 
ware.  "  Gray's  a  good  sort,  though.  Could  a  fellow  do  anything, 
d'  you  suppose  ?" 

But  the  pursuer  was  slow.  Seeing  him  coming,  and  divining  his 
object,  Mr.  Gray  slipped  out  of  the  side  door,  dived  through  the 
shrubbery  that  bordered  a  winding  drive-way  to  the  west,  and  took 
himself  off  through  the  crowded  Place.  He  had  need  to  be  alone, — 
to  face  his  changed  fortunes  fair  and  square. 

Twenty-five  years  old,  and  up  to  the  midweek  mail  from  America 
he  had  never  known  a  care  since  boyish  days,  unless  it  was  some 
momentary  heart-pang  when  Amy  Langdon  proved  unkind.  In  a 
dawdling,  amateurish  way  he  had  read  the  daily  papers  and  signed 
some  letters  and  reports  laid  before  him  by  an  attentive  clerk  in  the 
office  of  the  Eastern  traffic  manager  of  a  great  road  of  which  his  uncle 
was  a  heavy  stockholder  and  prominent  director.  The  most  serious 
thing  he  had  ever  undertaken  was  his  membership  in  a  crack  city 


438  RAY'S  RECRUIT. 

regiment,  wherein  he  had  served  through  the  ranks  and  really  earned 
a  commission.  But  both  these  avocations  he  had  quitted  during  the 
previous  winter,  and  all  because  Amy  Langdon  was  reported  flirting 
dangerously  at  Nice  and  Mentone,  and  if  she  were  not  actually  engaged 
to  Darcy  Gray  he  at  least  felt  so  far  engaged  to  her  that  flirtation  was 
denied  him. 

As  pretty  a  girl  as  ever  rode  in  Central  Park  was  Amy,  and  as 
dashing  a  horsewoman,  and  it  was  Gray's  admirable  riding  and  uni- 
versally acknowledged  prospects  that  made  him  for  the  time  so  accept- 
able a  parii.  He  could  manage  a  horse  far  better  than  he  could  a 
woman,  however,  and  Miss  Langdon  kept  him  at  her  side  when  in 
saddle  and  subject  to  call  at  all  other  times.  But  she  had,  not  un- 
kindly, laughed  off"  his  protestations  and  dissected  his  offers.  "  It's 
absurd,  Darcy.  You  haven't  a  cent  in  the  world  that  doesn't  come 
from  your  uncle,  and  who  knows  what  his  wife  will  do  with  his  for- 
tune,— or  he  himself,  for  that  matter?  As  for  me,  I'm  a  beggar  with 
social  aspirations.  Come,  be  sensible,  and  I'll  like  you  better.  Be  a 
soldier,  Darcy,  and  face  the  facts.  That's  the  one  thing  you're  cut  out 
for." 

"  You're  hard-hearted.  Amy,"  he  had  answered. 

"No;  only  hard-headed.  I'm  soft-hearted  enough  to  like  you 
too  well  to  spoil  both  our  lives." 

Gray  believed  himself  much  in  love  when  she  went  abroad  in 
November,  and  took  it  much  to  heart  that  she  should  be  so  constantly 
attended  by  Fred  Smythe,  who  had  no  atom  of  sense  in  his  head,  but 
no  end  of  dollars  in  his  pocket.  But  when  a  lordling — a  younger  son 
of  an  older  house  than  ever  dwelt  in  Gotham — an  Honorable,  between 
whom  and  the  title  and  estates  was  a  lord  with  only  one  lung  and  that 
fast  going — had  opposed  his  sighs  to  those  of  Smythe,  and  there  came 
rumors  that  Locksley  Hall  was  to  be  enacted  over  again  with  an 
American  Amy  in  the  foreground,  Darcy  Gray  believed  it  time  to  rush 
for  the  Riviera,  and  a  worried  old  uncle  most  unwillingly  let  him  go. 
Hunter  loved  that  boy,  his  sister's  son,  as  the  apple  of  his  eye.  There 
wasn't  anything  he  wouldn't  have  given  him  but  the  means  of  earning 
his  own  living.  All  that  he  proposed  to  settle  magnificently.  But 
the  bottom  began  to  drop  out  of  the  market  in  mid- January,  and  left 
him  stranded  high  and  dry  by  the  middle  of  May.  Two  million 
dollars,  said  Wall  Street,  had  "gone  where  the  woodbine  twineth." 

Over  beyond  the  hurly-burly  of  the  public  Place,  crowded  with 
townfolk  and  children,  the  road-way  wound  along  the  water's  edge. 
Gray  strode  rapidly  westward,  his  head  bowed,  his  hands  thrust  deep 
in  his  trousers- pockets.  He  missed  his  usual  companions,  a  heavy 
stick  and  a  nimble  fox-terrier,  but  both  had  been  left  with  the  portier 
as  inappropriate  to  a  voyage  to  Chillon.  They  were  to  have  started,  a 
merry  party  it  proinised  to  be,  by  the  early  boat  from  Geneva,  and  he 
could  see  her  now  cleaving  the  limpid  waters  around  the  headland  of 
Morges.  It  was  time  to  warn  his  companions  that  he  could  not  go. 
One  girl,  at  least,  might  miss  him,  and  she  should  be  accorded  oppor- 
tunity to  name  some  other  escort.  Amy, — "Amy,  shallow-hearted." 
She  had  disappeared  with  that  brainless  ass  half  an  hour  ago,  possibly 


RAY'S  RECRUIT.  439 

to  console  him  for  the  fact  that  he  was  not  one  of  the  dozen  bidden  by 
Madame  la  Comtesse  to  be  of  the  party  to  voyage  with  her  to  the 
famous  castle,  breakfast  with  her  aboard  La  France,  and  dine  en  fHe 
at  Montreux.  Vane,  the  Briton,  was  one,  and  small  comfort  did  he 
afford  Smythe  by  bidding  him  jolly  up,  and  perhaps  Madame  would 
let  him  in  for  post- prandial  coffee  at  Montroo. 

Gray  had  never  been  able  to  stomach  Smythe ;  he  called  him  an 
insupportable  cad  ;  but  when,  at  a  turn  in  the  path,  he  came  suddenly 
upon  the  combination  of  brainless  ass  and  insupportable  cad  squatted 
on  a  stone,  elbows  on  knees,  his  fuzzy  jowls  deep  sunken  in  his  hands, 
his  eyes  on  the  far-away  line  of  the  Savoy  shore,  the  intruder  relented. 
Here  was  woe  perhaps  as  deep  as  his  own. 

But  in  this  case  misery  loved  not  company,  and  Smythe  was  surly. 
No ;  there  wasn't  anything  Gray  could  do  for  him,  thanks.  He  was 
feeling  seedy,  that  was  all.  It  was  plain  to  see  that  the  interview  with 
Miss  Langdon  had  left  him  sore  at  heart.  Gray  stood  another  moment, 
irresolute.  There  was  absolutely  no  reason  why  he  should  do  the  fel- 
low a  good  turn.  Smythe  hated  him  and  plainly  showed  it.  But 
Gray  had  ignored  his  spleen,  and  ever  good-humoredly  tolerated  him. 
It  is  easy  for  a  man  to  forgive  another's  jealousy.  But  Gray  had 
suffered  too  much  from  Miss  Langdon's  caprice  not  to  know  the 
symptoms  when  so  patent  as  they  were  in  Smythe.  Ill  fortune  makes 
some  natures  magnanimous, — rare  natures, — and  Gray  turned  again. 

"  Look  here,  old  man"  ("  old  chap"  had  not  then  come  into  vogue), 
"  if  I  can't  do  anything  for  you,  you  can  for  me.  I  was  to  have  gone 
with  that  party,  you  know,  to  Chillon  this  morning.  Yonder  comes 
the  boat  now.  Go  to  Madame  for  me,  like  a  good  fellow,  and  tell  her 
I've  just  received  ill  tidings  from  home.  I've  got  to  go  to  Geneva  by 
the  ten  o'clock  train.  I  was  paired  off  with  Miss  Langdon.  Tell 
Madame  I'm  awfully  sorry,  but  I  can't  go.  She'll  ask  you  in  my 
place — see  if  she  doesn't.     So  long." 

And  in  another  minute  he  was  breasting  the  heights  to  Lausanne, 
while  Smythe  was  speeding  to  Beau  Rivage. 

It  was  late  that  evening  when  he  returned  from  a  solemn  day  with 
the  bankers,  the  consul,  and  certain  tradesfolk  whose  prospects,  tem- 
poral and  eternal,  he  was  given  to  understand  were  shattered  by  his 
cancellation  of  certain  orders  for  furs  and  bijouterie.  Heavy  levy  was 
made  on  his  check-book  to  solace  their  suffering,  but  there  is  a  certain 
recklessness  of  cost  when  one's  financial  tether  is  nearly  at  an  end. 
Dinner  was  over  at  Beau  Rivage.  The  band  was  playing  delightfully 
in  the  south  portico.  Men  in  evening  dress  were  sauntering  and 
smoking  and  sipping  coffee  about  the  corridor.  A  few  American  and 
English  girls  with  their  escorts  were  dancing  in  the  salon.  Gray  was 
still  in  "  knickers,"  and  had  dined  solus  at  the  Hotel  Terminus.  He 
paused  at  the  portico  and  gazed  in  at  the  scene  of  mirth,  luxury,  and 
enjoyment  wherein  he  had  been  so  thoroughly  at  home,  and  contrasted 
unflinchingly  the  scene  with  that  which  he  had  planned  for  his  future. 
Now  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  get  to  his  room  to  write,  and  he  hoped 
to  reach  it  unobserved,  but  the  Honorable  Rokeby  had  received  his 
instructions  and  nabbed  him. 


440  RAY  S  RECRUIT. 

"  Eoh,  /  say,  Gray — Miss  Langdon,  y'  know,  wished  to  speak  with 
you  directly  you  came  iu." 

"  Yes,"  vvas  the  languid  answer;  "and  where  is  she  now?" 

"  In  their  salon,  I  fancy.  She  said  she  was  too  tired  to  dress  for 
dinner.     Had  a  beastly  day,  y'  know." 

Gray  nodded,  slowly  ascended  the  winding  stairway,  and  tapped  at 
the  door  in  the  west  corridor. 

"  'Trez,"  answered  a  boyish  voice,  and  Darcy  was  exuberantly 
welcomed  by  a  ten-year-old  Langdon.  "  The  mater  and  sis  are  having 
a  row  in  the  gallery,"  said  he,  radiantly.  "  Old  Smythe's  been  pester- 
ing her.  Go  out  there :  they  don't  mind  you,  you  know,  and  I  can't 
get  away  from  here  until  they've  finished." 

But  further  confidences  were  ended  by  the  sudden  entrance  of  Miss 
Langdon  herself.  She  had  evidently  been  watching  for  Gray's  return. 
Outstretched  to  him  in  eager  greeting  were  Amy's  long,  slender  white 
hands;  uplifted  to  his  in  anxious  inquiry  were  a  pair  of  the  softest, 
loveliest  eyes.  The  voice  in  which  she  spoke  was  soft,  almost  tremu- 
lous.    '•  What  is  it,  Darcy  ?" 

And  the  hand  sidled  into  his,  and  Miss  Langdon  to  a  sofa  whither 
she  would  have  drawn  him ;  but,  despite  the  hand,  which,  despite 
itself,  he  released,  he  remained  on  his  feet  and  concisely  answered, — 

"  What  you  expected." 

"  From  Mr.  Hunter  ? — Gerald,  go  down  and  play  with  Ralph 
until  mother  sends  for  you." 

"  Ralph  isn't  there,"  was  the  petulant  answer. 

"  Then  go  and  play ;  go  anyhow."  Then  she  turned  for  answer. 
"From  Mr.  Hunter?" 

<'Yes." 

"And  it's  true?" 

"  Yes,  every  cent." 

Then  the  hands  would  be  no  longer  denied.  Both  went  impul- 
sively out,  seized  his  with  no  timid  grasp,  and  drew  him  impetuously 
down  beside  her.  Then  to  his  amaze  he  saw  the  fair  face  quivering 
piteously,  the  lovely  eyes  brimming  with  tears,  the  soft  red  lips  twitch- 
ing with  uncontrollable  emotion.  "  Oh,  you  poor,  dear  boy — oh, 
Darcy,  Darcy,  I  never — I  never  knew  how  much  I  cared  for  you  till 
now,"  she  almost  sobbed.  "  Gerald,  if  you  don't  leave  this  room 
instantly  I'll " 

But  the  boy  bolted,  and  then  Darcy  saw  that  she  was  gazing  up  at 
him  through  a  briny  depth  of  tears.  Even  in  his  surprise,  even  in  the 
thrill  of  joy  with  which  he  heard  this  fond  confession,  he  recaptured 
himself,  as  it  were,  in  the  nick  of  time. 

"Under  the  circumstances,  that's  something  I  didn't  expect  to 
hear,"  said  Darcy. 

"  Under  other  circumstances  you  wouldn't  have  heard  it,"  said 
Amy. 

"  It's  a  bit  rough  on  Smy the,  isn't  it  ?" 

"  It  in  no  wise  concerns  him.  As  for  Rokeby,  he  must  take  me 
just  as  I  am." 

"Oh,"  said  Gray,  looking  fairly  at  her  at  last,  and  beginning  to 


RAY'S  RECRUIT.  441 

tug  at  the  hand  she  still  held  in  her  two,  "  it's  to  be  an  inter- 
national affair,  is  it  ?  And  I  am  addressing  the  future  Countess  of 
Lancaster  ?" 

"  Listen  to  reason,  Darcy,"  said  Miss  Langdon,  regaining  dignity 
and  self-possession  at  sight  of  the  hunger  in  his  eyes.  "  I  have  no 
money.  I  have  every  ambition,  every  longing,  every  desire  that  only 
position  and  money  can  gratify.  I  like  you  better  than  any  man  I 
ever  knew,  yet  I  wouldn't  marry  you,  because  you  hadn't  enough  to 
offer,  and  I  never  so  fully  felt  that  I  could  and  would  marry  you  as 
now — when  I  can't.  Even  Mr.  Smythe,  with  half  a  million,  could 
not  buy.  I  am  going  to  a  higher  bidder, — the  highest  I  could  find. 
So  far  as  I'm  concerned,  that  settles  my  fate,  but  it's  yours  I  care 
about,  Darcy.  You've  been  a  dawdler  and  a  do-nothing  all  your  life. 
What  will  you  do  now?" 

''  Be  true  to  my  friends — and  their  estimate  of  me,  probably.  You 
wouldn't  have  me  to  disappoint  them,  would  you?" 

"What  on  earth  do  you  mean?  Speak  sensibly,  Darcy.  I've 
never  been  worth  your  trust  when  you  gave  it.  Now  I'm  honest  with 
you.     What  will  you  do  ?" 

"  What  they  all  prophesied, — nothing," 

"  Darcy,  you  have  brains  and  energy.  You  have — persistence 
enough  to  win  anything — that's  worth  having,"  she  concluded,  lamely. 

There  was  a  subdued  sound  of  sniffling  on  the  balcony  without. 
Over  the  moonlit  Alpine  sea  the  mater  was  gazing  towards  the  shores 
of  France  and  wondering  if  many  mothers  had  such  trials  as  daughters 
at  whose  farthingales  dangled  half  the  eligibles  in  society.  Smythe's 
mother,  it  seems,  had  taken  up  the  pen  to  second  the  plaintive  baa  of 
her  golden  calf,  and  was  dealing  trenchant  blows  at  her  old  crony,  the 
mother  of  the  belle  of  the  season. 

"  Mother  will  be  in  here  in  a  moment,  Darcy.  You  must  be  frank 
with  me,  and  Rokeby  may  be  up — any  moment.  You  will  stay  here 
until — you've  had  time  to  look  about  you?" 

"I've  had  plenty  of  time  to-day.  Everything's  settled.  Tell 
Rokeby  I'm  sorry  I  shan't  be  able  to  take  him  bear-  and  elk-hunting, 
as  I  promised." 

"  Do  you  mean  you're  going  soon, — to-morrow?" 

"No,"  said  Gray,  rising,  "I'm  going  to-night." 

One  instant  the  beautiful  face  beside  him  wore  an  expression  of 
utter  woe,  of  genuine  sympathy  and  sorrow,  then  decked  itself  with 
winning  and  conventional  smiles,  for  the  salon  door,  opening  at  the 
moment,  revealed  young  hopeful,  the  brother,  tugging  at  the  hand  of 
the  other  hopeful,  monocled.  Knickers  and  evening  dress  confronted 
each  other  at  the  threshold.  Rejected  Yank,  accepted  Briton,  met  as 
do  modern  mortal  rivals  without  sign  of  rancor. 

"  Er— ah— what's  up.  Gray  ?" 

"  Nothing.     I'm — down." 

By  the  midnight  express  he  left  via  Berne  for  Basel.  He  could 
not  face  the  throng  of  inquisitive  sympathizers  on  the  morrow.  He 
meant  to  skip  away  unnoticed,  but  he  had  been  too  genuinely  popular, 
and  there  are  men,  and  many  of  them,  Briton  or  Boston,  who  will  go 


442  RAY'S  RECRUIT. 

out  of  their  way  to  say  good  words  to  a  fellow  in  distress.  Three  of 
them  trailed  Gray  to  the  station  and  ran  him  to  earth  on  the  train, 
and  said  impetuous  things  about  being  his  banker,  and  made  other 
offers  impossible  to  take  seriously.  The  only  thing  he  could  take  was 
a  drink  with  all  three,  until  they  tumbled  off  at  the  conductor's  shrill 
summons,  and  through  the  night,  under  the  glitter  of  the  lamps,  some- 
thing came  gleaming  and  spinning,  and  he  caught  Rokeby's  handsome 
flask  and  Rokeby's  parting  words  : 

"  Take  a  drink  for  me  once  in  a  while,  will  you,  old  boy  ?     Au 
revoir." 


CHAPTER  I. 


The  major  was  sprawled  on  the  broad  of  his  back  under  the  shade 
of  a  spreading  cottonwood,  a  slouch  hat,  battered  and  weather-stained, 
pulled  well  down  over  his  fine,  dark-brown  eyes,  their  heavy  brows 
concealed  by  its  jagged  brim,  their  long,  thick,  curling  lashes  down- 
ward sweeping  towards  the  bronzed,  sun-tanned  cheeks.  The  bristling 
beard  and  curling  black  moustache  concealed  the  lines  of  the  mouth 
and  jaws,  rendering  speculation  as  to  the  major's  characteristics  mere 
guess-work,  which  wouldn't  be  the  case,  said  Captain  Trotter,  a  physi- 
ognomist of  the  first  order  in  his  own  estimation,  if  the  major's  face 
were,  as  usual  with  him  in  garrison,  freshly  and  cleanly  shaved  except 
as  to  the  upper  lip.  Open  at  the  throat,  the  major's  dark-blue  flannel 
shirt  rolled  easily  back,  revealing  a  black  waste  of  hairy  stubble  down 
to  the  protuberant  "  Adam's  apple,"  below  which  the  fair  skin  showed 
almost  as  white  as  a  child's  and  well-nigh  as  soft.  A  devotee  to  cold 
water  was  the  major,  even  in  his  cups,  and  that,  too,  in  days  when  the 
traditions  of  the  great  war  still  held  sway  in  the  cavalry,  and  the  cock- 
tail was  the  rule,  not  the  exception,  at  morning  stable-call.  Not  that 
he  preached  the  doctrine  of  total  abstinence  or  looked  upon  himself  as 
a  model  of  virtue  in  any  way.  "  Whiskey  never  did  me  any  good," 
was  his  modest  explanation.  "  I  never  seemed  to  need  it  or  to  care 
for  it.  I  never  saw  any  fun  in  getting  full,  and  the  only  time  I  ever 
did,  it  made  me  sick  for  a  week, — a  thing  that  never  happened  to  me 
before  or  since.  If  you  like  it,  Ray,  or  if  it  agrees  with  you,  Blake, 
why,  go  ahead.  So  long  as  you  don't  get  full  and  neglect  your  busi- 
ness, it's  none  of  mine."  Time  was  in  the  regimental  past,  as  the 
major  very  well  knew  and  the  minors  sometimes  said,  when  Ray 
occasionally  "got  full"  and  when  Blake  seemed  to  think  it  agreed  with 
him, — until  tlie  day  afterwards,  at  least.  But  Blake  and  Ray  had 
found  reason  to  part  company  with  their  old  familiar  friend,  that 
intimacy  having  led,  as  often  do  others,  to  later  estrangement;  that 
familiarity  having  bred  contempt;  that  warmth,  as  Tona  Hood  would 
have  said,  having  ])roduced  a  coldness.  "Singed  cats"  was  what  the 
unreconciled  of  the  subalterns  called  these  erstwhile  jovial  blades,  but 
never  where  either  "  cat"  could  hear,  as  each  was  known  to  be  un- 
pleasantly ready  to  back  his  views.  Both  officers  had  so  far  mended 
their  ways  in  this  respect  that  neither  would  sip  from  the  seductive 


RAY'S  RECRUIT.  443 

bowl,  yet  each  was  entirely  willing  that  the  rest  of  the  commissioned 
list  should  be  free  agents  in  the  matter,  with  the  possible  exceptions  of 
Brady,  who  never  drank  that  he  didn't  make  an  ass  of  himself,  and 
Rawson,  who  never  drank  that  he  didn't  make  trouble  for  somebody 
else. 

And  about  these  five  men, — the  major,  whose  name  is  spelled 
M-a-i-n-w-a-r-i-n-g  and  always  pronounced  "  Mannering,"  and  Ray 
and  Blake,  who  have  often  appeared  in  these  chronicles  of  by-gone 
frontier  days,  and  Brady  and  Rawson,  who  have  never  yet  so  appeared 
and  who  never  will  again,  so  far  as  this  chronicler  is  concerned, — about 
these  five  men  and  one  other  yet  to  appear,  hangs  most  of  this  story, — 
these  six  men  and  just  two  women. 

Place  aux  dames,  though  this  bivouac  on  the  Boxelder  was  no  place 
for  them  whatever,  and  neither  woman  was  there  at  the  time,  and  only 
one  of  them  was  known  to  any  one  of  the  men  referred  to.  One  of  the 
women  was  Mrs.  Main  waring,  and  the  other,  a  spinster,  was  Kate  Leroy. 

It  was  a  hot  day,  a  dusty  day,  and  the  command  could  prove  it 
without  the  use  of  a  word  as  it  unsaddled  in  the  grove  and  men  and 
horses  made  for  the  nearest  water.  They  had  marched  since  early 
morn  and  covered  twenty  miles  when  the  trumpets  rang  the  signal  for 
the  final  halt.  They  had  been  winding  for  hours  in  long  column  of 
twos  down  the  sandy  bottom  of  a  vanished  creek,  and  the  sight  of  this 
oasis  in  the  desert,  the  clump  of  cottonwoods  with  its  outlying  strag- 
glers fartiier  down  stream,  was  indeed  a  grateful  one.  It  told  of  the 
presence  of  living  water,  and  the  regiment,  said  Trooper  Kelly,  "  was 
as  dhry  as  the  chaplain's  temperance  sermon  the  night  before  Patrick's 
Day  in  the  morning."  Mainwaring's  four  troops,  being  first  on  the 
ground,  pre-empted  what  grass  there  was  before  breaking  for  the  spring. 
Trooper  law  reserved  to  the  horses  of  the  owner  all  space  within  lariat 
length  of  the  firmly  driven  picket-jiin,  and  woe  to  the  man  that  "jumped 
the  claim."  In  like  manner  had  the  major's  "striker"  pre-empted  the 
biggest  Cottonwood  for  his  master's  roof-tree,  and  there,  dusted,  shaken, 
and  smoothly  spread,  were  the  major's  blankets  when,  fresh  from  his 
dip  in  the  stream,  that  sturdy,  keen-eyed,  compactly  built  soldier  came 
back  for  his  rest. 

And  there  he  lay,  the  picture  of  trooper  content,  beguiling  the 
moments  until  dinner  should  be  ready,  and  trying  hard  not  to  go  to 
sleep  meantime,  with  a  copy  of  "  Les  Miserables,"  hauled  from  the 
depth  of  his  capacious  saddle-bags.  Having  had  little  schooling  to 
speak  of,  Mainwaring  was  an  assiduous  reader  of  fiction,  and  prided 
himself  on  the  fact. 

Presently,  without  lifting  his  eye  from  the  page,  or  glancing  to- 
wards the  party  interrogated,  who  was  sprawled  in  similar  fashion 
under  an  adjacent  tree,  the  major  popped  the  following  question  : 

"  Blake,  what's  savvy  ke  pew  ?" 

And  Blake,  without  lifting  his  eyes  from  the  written  pages  of  the 
missive  in  his  lean  brown  hand,  responded,  after  the  manner  of  soldier 
folk,  "  Damfino." 

The  major's  brows  contracted  in  a  scowl.  Suspiciously  he  glanced 
at  his  long-legged  comrade.     "  Thought  you  spoke  French,"  said  he. 


444  RAY'S  RECRUIT. 

To  which  Blake  blandly  responded,  with  modest  and  not  inex- 
cusable hesitancy, — 

"  We-11 — er — not  always.     Isn't  it — possibly,  sauve  qui  peutf" 

"  Well,  sove  ke  pw/i,  then,"  responded  Mainvvaring,  with  disdainful 
emphasis  on  the  convenient  monosyllable.     "  What's  that  ?" 

"  That,"  said  Blake,  "  is  what  the  girls  say  when  Brady  tries  to 
dance, — Jump  for  your  lives  and — Brady  take  the  hindmost.  It's 
polite  French  for  'the jig  is  up.'" 

Ca})tain  Ray,  stretched  at  ease  upon  a  costly  Navajo  blanket  of 
which  he  was  inordinately  proud,  reached  out  with  his  moccasiued  foot 
and  indented  the  canvas  re-enforcement  of  his  comrade's  field  riding- 
breeches,     "  Quit  it,  Blake,"  he  muttered. 

But  the  major  needed  no  man  to  protect  his  interests.  He  might 
not  know  French,  but  he  knew  Blake,  and  liked  him, — ordinarily. 

"  I  more  than  half  thought  you  didn't  know.  Legs,"  he  said,  with 
a  yawn.  "Legs"  was  a  regimental  pet  name  for  the  longest  and 
lankiest  of  the  commissioned  list.  "  You  West  Pointers  have  nearly 
all  had  two  years'  schooling  in  that  tongue,  and  another  year  in  Spanish, 
and  I'm  blessed  if  ever  a  one  of  you  could  speak  either.  I'd  have  a 
heap  more  respect  for  you  if  you'd  come  out  like  a  man  and  say  you 
didn't  know,  like  Ray,  for  instance.     There's  no  nonsense  about  liim." 

Here  Blake  kicked  backward,  in  delighted  return  of  his  comrade's 
broad  hint.  "  Well,  major,"  he  hastened  to  say,  "  my  translation  was 
a  trifle  free,  perhaps,  but  the  phrase  is  a  clumsy  one  to  turn  into  English. 
Ray  will  agree  with  me  as  to  the  translation.  The  main  trouble  with 
his  French  is  the  accent.  It's  a  combination  of  blue  grass  and 
Apache." 

"  Well,  he  has  the  good  sense  to  keep  it  to  himself,  then,"  answered 
Mainwaring,  still  a  trifle  sulky,  "  I'd  pattern  after  him,  if  I  were 
you." 

"  Faith  and  so  I  would,  major  mine,  did  not  my  innocent  associates 
so  often  take  me  for  a  lexicon.  But,  now,  you  ought  to  speak  French 
like  a  native.  Mrs.  Mainwaring  does.  You  couldn't  have  a  better 
teacher,  and  Stannard  says  all  a  man  needs  to  learn  anything  in  this 
world  is  brains  and  time.     You've  got  lots  of — time." 

"  What's  that  about  Stannard  ?"  interrupted  the  major,  sharply,  and 
Blake's  diversion  had  told,  as  he  meant  that  it  should.  If  there  was 
one  man  in  the  army  of  whom  Mainwaring  was  jealous,  it  was  Stan- 
nard. He,  like  Stannard,  had  been  a  capital  troop  commander  for 
years.  He  had  attained,  at  last,  the  rank  of  major,  vice  Barry  pro- 
moted, only  a  year  or  so  after  Stannard;  had  served  just  as  well  as 
had  Stannard ;  had  as  fine  a  war  record,  and  an  honored  and  honor- 
able name;  had  a  charming  wife,  health,  and  competence,  yet  mourned 
in  secret — even  at  times  made  audible  moan — over  the  fact  that  among 
the  officers  and  men  of  the  regiment  what  Stannard  said,  thought,  did, 
was  never  to  be  questioned.  Stannard  was  authority  on  all  points 
of  soldiering ;  Stannard  was  the  expert  engineer,  builder,  draughtsman, 
topographer,  and  all-round  military  "sharp;"  while  he,  Mainwaring, 
whose  troop  had  been  a  model,  whose  battalion  was  now  really  in  finer 
shape  than  Stannard's,  and  who  had  abundant  means  and  spent  where 


RAY'S  RECRUIT.  445 

Stanuard  saved,  was  looked  upon  iu  tlie  cavalry  as  a  good  soldier,  a 
fine  officer,  despite  his  surly  mannerisms,  and  yet  because  he  hadn't 
enjoyed  Stannard's  advantages  and  a  college,  or  even  high  school, 
training,  he  must  submit  to  perennial  playing  of  second  fiddle.  It  set 
him  against  Stannard,  and  it  led  eventually  to  trouble. 

"  If  you'd  only  be  wise,  Leonard,"  his  brighter  better  half  had 
said  to  him,  "you  wouldn't  ask  questions  of  Blake,  Look  it  up  in  the 
encyclopaedia,  or  even  ask  me." 

'"  Why,  hang  it,  Laura !"  interrupted  the  major,  "  half  my  years 
are  spent  in  saddle  out  in  the  field.  You  and  the  encyclopaedia  are 
a  month's  march  away.  I  can't  help  wanting  to  know  what  things 
mean." 

"  Then  ask  Captain  Truscott  or  Captain  Freeman."  She  knew 
too  much  to  wound  him  by  suggesting  Stannard.  "  Blake's  propensity 
to  burlesque  everything  is  irresistible  unless  you  happen  to  be  alone 
with  him."  And  Mainwaring  would  promise,  and  despite  his  promise 
would  fall,  for,  as  he  frankly  admitted,  he  couldn't  help  wanting  to 
know,  you  know,  and,  as  it  never  occurred  to  him  that  he  could  mis- 
pronounce any  word,  foreign  or  domestic,  poor  Mainwaring  was  eter- 
nally putting  his  foot  in  it.  He  and  Tommy  Hollis  were  Blake's 
entire  delight,  and  neither  man  could  resent  his  witticisms,  even  when 
they  verged  on  the  personal,  for  Blake,  like  Ray,  was  a  regimental 
idol  because  of  deeds  that  won  a  tribute  outvying  the  Victoria  Cross  or 
Congressional  Medal  of  Honor.  Mainwaring  swore  by  both  as  soldiers, 
and  Hollis  fairly  worshipped  Blake.  But  Tommy  was  away  on  other 
duty  just  now,  and  the  shafts  of  the  long-legged  captain's  ridicule  fell 
most  improperly  on  his  sluggish-witted  chief. 

Blake  did  not  thoroughly  like  him.  He  thought  Mainwaring 
selfish,  opinionated,  and  conceited.  He  admitted  him  to  be  a  first-rate 
soldier,  a  fine  drill-master  and  tactician,  a  truthful,  honest,  and  pure- 
minded  man,  a  devoted  husband  and  father, — in  fact,  one  of  the  repre- 
sentative men  of  the  cavalry.  It  wasn't  that  he  was  narrow  (his 
tolerance  on  the  whiskey  question  was  an  evidence  that  he  was  not),  yet 
he  was  "  butt-headed,"  said  Blake.  "  He's  perpetually  referring  to  Ray 
and  to  me  as  the  exponents  of  the  liquor  habit,  when  both  of  us  quit 
long  ago.  We  all  like  Stannard,  and  he  doesn't;  at  least  he  is  always 
ready  to  disparage  anything  Stannard  says  or  does,  and  if  he  were 
Stannard's  senior  instead  of  junior  he'd  overrule  any  decision  or  order 
of  Stannard's  just  because  it  was  Stannard's.  So  when  he  comes  out 
with  his  bulls  I  can't  help  goading  him  a  bit.  Somebody's  got  to  keep 
him  in  check,  or  we'll  be  getting  the  laugh  from  those  fellows  of  the 
Eleventh  and  Twelfth." 

"  They  wouldn't  see  the  blunders,  Blake,  only  you  show  'em  up," 
said  Ray,  in  remonstrance,  and  with  not  a  little  reason,  for  Blake 
was  incorrigible.  "  Some  day  you'll  cut  Mainwaring  to  the  quick, 
and  he  comes  of  a  stock  that  hits  hard  and  doesn't  forgive  easy  or 
forget  at  all.     Better  hold  off.  Legs." 

And  "  hold  off"  Legs  had  to  for  several  days  of  a  dreary  home- 
ward march,  dreary  because  the  colonel  meant  to  rest  the  horses  thor- 
oughly after  a  fierce  and  furious  chase  and  campaign,  and  so  made 


446  RAY'S  RECRUIT. 

short  marches  where  the  officers  and  men  would  gladly  have  made  two 
a  day.  The  road  was  dusty,  the  October  sunshine  was  hot  and  dry, 
the  nights  were  snapping  cold,  but  here  at  last  they  were  only  one  day 
out  from  their  new  station,  Fort  Ransom,  and  Blake  had  broken  bonds 
again.  Raising  himself  on  elbow  and  peering  across  the  blue-shirted 
shoulder  of  his  friend,  Ray  could  see  that  Mainwaring  was  still 
glowering  at  him,  and  evidently  pondering  over  that  reference  to 
his  having  time  enough  to  learn  anything.  As  yet  its  full  signifi- 
cance was  not  apparent,  but  it  was  the  policy  of  wisdom  to  distract  his 
attention  and  set  his  wits  to  work  on  something  else.  Like  the  horse, 
which  noble  animal  Mainwaring  almost  worshipped,  he  could  consider 
only  one  point  at  a  time.  So  up  rose  Ray  and  strolled  over  to  him. 
'•  If  you've  no  objections,  major,  I'd  like  to  ask  the  colonel  to  let  my 
quartermaster  sergeant  ride  into  Ransom  to-night.  He  tells  me  his 
wife  is  quite  ill.  The  ambulance  is  going,  and  will  give  him  a  lift. 
We'll  lead  his  horse  with  the  troop  to-morrow." 

"Why  not  ride  him  in  to-night?"  asked  Mainwaring,  who  had  served 
but  little  under  Atherton  since  the  war,  and  knew  not  how  strict  were 
his  rules  regarding  horses. 

"  Because  the  colonel  wishes  every  horse  to  share  and  share  alike. 
The  sergeant's  horse  would  have  an  extra  twenty  miles  if  ridden  in 
to-night.  Yonder  comes  Stannard's  battalion  now,"  he  said,  pointing 
to  the  dust-cloud  sailing  slowly  towards  them  from  the  north.  "  He'll 
bivouac  above  us,  I  reckon." 

"Yes,  and  spoil  our  water,  like  as  not,"  growled  Mainwaring. 
"  But  we've  got  the  grass  and  shade," 

"  Devil  doubt  you,"  muttered  Blake,  "  and  you've  got  the  best  of 
both."  Then,  aloud,  "  Ask  the  old  man,  with  my  compliments,  if  I 
may  do  him  the  honor  of  dining  with  him  to-morrow,  Billy.  Mrs. 
Atherton  has  everything  ready  for  his  coming,  I'll  be  bound,  while 
your  better  half  and  mine  and  the  major's  here  can't  come  till  we  get 
there  and  choose  quarters." 

"  Mrs.  Mainwaring  will  be  there  quicker  than  I  will,"  said  the 
major,  promptly. 

"  That's  all  easily  explained,  Mrs.  Mainwaring  knows  the  major's 
quarters  can  go  to  nobody  but  the  major,  and  she  can  move  in  at  once. 
We  poor  devils  of  troop-leaders  must  wait  till  our  seniors  have  chosen. 
What's  more,  Mrs.  Mainwaring  has  no  nurse  and  babies  to  look  after." 

"No,  but  she's  bringing  a  companion  with  her,  in  the  shape  of  her 
niece  that  she's  often  talked  to  me  about.  I  think  I  told  you  about 
her, — Miss  Leroy.  She's  been  abroad  for  a  year,  and  wants  to  come 
and  see  something  of  her  own  country.  They  ought  to  reach  Butte 
to-night,  or  early  in  the  morning." 

"  Will  she?"  exclaimed  Blake.  "Then  like  as  not  she'll  have  an 
escort :  Rawson's  coming  out  with  a  batch  of  recruits." 

"  Bah !"  growled  Mainwaring,  who  had  little  use  for  Rawson  or 
any  other  officer  who  was  away  on  leave  when  his  regiment  was  in  the 
field.  "  Mrs.  Mainwaring's  never  met  him,  and,  if  she  had,  would 
feel  mighty  small  security  in  his  escort, — a  fellow  that'll  be  held  up 
with  a  whole  car-load  of  passengers  by  only  two  robbers." 


RAY'S  RECRUIT.  447 

Mainwaring  alluded  to  a  matter  that  was  a  sore  spot  in  the  — th 
and  that  never  yet  had  been  fully  explained.  But  Mr.  Rawson,  three 
months  earlier  that  summer,  had  unquestionably  been  relieved  of  his 
few  valuables  at  the  point  of  the  pistol  on  the  K.  P.  Road.  The  regi- 
ment meant  to  worry  the  life  out  of  him  when  he  rejoined,  but  didn't 
like  it  that  Mainwaring,  a  new-comer,  should  be  the  first  to  crack  the 
whip.  Blake  almost  wanted  to  blaze  up,  but  thought  it  best  perhaps 
to  wait  for  Ray,  and  so  subsided. 

Ray,  however,  had  sauntered  out  to  the  edge  of  the  scanty  patch 
of  timber,  and,  shading  his  eyes  with  his  brown  hand,  was  scanning 
with  professional  interest  the  long  column  of  dusty  troopers,  two  abreast, 
that  came  filing  into  view  around  a  little  point  five  hundred  yards 
away.  Well  out  in  their  front,  short,  square,  and  stocky,  rode  their 
major,  his  adjutant,  trumpeter,  and  orderly  jogging  along  behind.  To 
him  rode  the  colonel's  messenger,  the  regimental  adjutant,  and  pointed 
out  a  line  some  distance  up-stream.  Thither  the  head  of  column 
veered,  moving  at  steady  walk.  The  guidon-bearer,  at  a  signal  from 
the  battalion  adjutant,  spurred  out  to  the  front,  and,  with  the  old 
silken  swallow-tail  streaming  in  the  wind,  loped  across  the  level  to  a 
point  ten  yards  or  so  from  the  bank,  was  halted  there  by  the  young 
officer  in  person,  and  then,  lance  at  rest,  he  and  his  horse  stood  motion- 
less. Never  quickening  the  pace,  the  captain  at  the  head  of  Stannard's 
foremost  troop  directed  his  march  on  this  living  guide-post.  The  guidon 
of  the  second  troop,  followed  speedily  by  those  of  the  third  and  fourth 
in  like  manner,  darted  out  across  the  prairie,  each  in  succession  being 
halted  and  established  at  half-distance  in  rear  of  his  predecessor  on 
the  line  of  guides.  Each  troop  directed  itself  upon  its  own  color; 
each  in  succession  formed  line  to  the  left  as  its  leading  two  came  oppo- 
site the  guidon  ;  each  was  aligned  to  the  right ;  then,  without  loss  of 
time,  the  trumpets  sounded,  "  Prepare  to  dismount ;"  the  brown  carbines 
were  jerked  from  their  sockets  and  tossed  over  the  right  shoulder  as 
the  odd-numbered  troopers  rode  clear  of  the  rank.  ''  Dismount," 
clamored  the  trumpet,  and  down  out  of  sight  sank  some  fifty-odd  blue 
flannel  shirts  and  rusty  old  hats  in  each  line.  "  Form  rank."  And 
out  from  among  the  chargers  popped  the  vanished  riders,  each  laying 
hold  of  the  reins  close  to  the  bit  as  the  line  reformed  and  the  captain 
said  his  brief  speech  :  *'  Water  as  soon  as  you  like,  men,  and  graze 
well  out  to  the  north  until  nightfall.  No  side  lines  necessary  to-day. 
Dismiss  the  troop,  sergeant."  And  the  next  thing  a  dozen  men  were 
scampering  like  mad,  lariats  and  picket-pins  swinging,  heading  for  the 
most  promising  patches  of  grass.  Each  picket-pin  was  stamped  home, 
the  lariats  uncurled  to  their  full  length,  and  then  back  ran  the  troopers 
to  unsaddle  and  lead  to  water.  Ten  minutes  more,  and  the  chargers 
of  Stannard's  battalion,  perhaps  two  hundred  and  fifty  in  all,  were 
being  slowly  driven  in  four  distinct  herds  well  out  upon  the  north- 
ward slopes,  where,  after  a  preliminary  roll,  each  horse  set  contentedly 
to  grazing.  Those  pre-empted  patches  close  at  hand  were  reserved  for 
their  further  use  at  night. 

And  then  the  little  cook-fires  began  to  blaze  along  the  bank,  and 
the  pack-trains  shambled  in,  and  were  unloaded  in  the  twinkling  of  an 


448  RAY'S  RECRUIT. 

eye.  The  mules  went  blinking  off  to  water,  and  the  major,  never 
quitting  his  saddle  until  his  last  trooper  dismounted,  slowly  lowered 
himself  to  earth  and  went  off  in  search  of  the  colonel. 

"  If  you've  no  objections,  sir,  I'd  like  to  send  a  sergeant  in  ahead 
to-night." 

"  Why,  Stannard,"  said  the  colonel,  looking  up  from  under  his  hat- 
brim  in  some  surprise,  "  that's  just  what  Ray's  been  asking.  Any- 
thing amiss  ?" 

"  Well,  his  time  expires  to-morrow,  sir.  It's  old  Bannon,  of  '  B' 
Troop,  and  he'd  like  to  catch  the  East-bound  train,  so's  to  have  all  the 
time  possible  to  go  and  visit  his  children  in  Illinois.  He'll  re-enlist  at 
once." 

"And  your  man,  Ray ?" 

"  Is  Sergeant  Merriweather,  sir.  He  says  his  wife's  at  Ransom 
quite  sick,  and  he's  anxious  and  troubled  about  her." 

"  Isn't  he  the  man  that  we  had  to  reprimand  for  letting  certain 
horses  stray  up  on  the  Belle  Fourche  ?" 

"  The  very  man,  sir.  He  is  careless  at  times,  and  not  altogether 
reliable,  but  he's  one  of  the  smartest,  nattiest  men  I've  got,  and " 

"  Didn't  he  marry  that  pretty  maid-servant  of  the  Freemans'  after 
we  got  back  from  the  Ute  campaign  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  Freeman  hasn't  forgiven  me  yet,"  answered  Captain 
Ray,  his  white  teeth  gleaming.  "  I'm  very  sure  I  should  be  glad  to 
have  him  take  her  back.  She's  turned  the  heads  of  some  of  my  best 
men,  and  is  running  Merriweather  heels  over  head  in  debt." 

The  colonel  pondered  a  moment.  "  I  greatly  dislike  to  refuse  you 
anything,"  he  said  ;  "but  every  time  we  come  in  from  scout  or  cam- 
paign, since  I  joined  the  regiment,  no  sooner  are  we  within  a  day's 
march  or  so  of  the  home  station — or  any  station,  for  that  matter — than 
several  men  ask  to  ride  in  ahead.  At  first  even  the  officers  did,  and 
there  were  as  many  as  a  dozen  men.  Now  we've  reduced  it  to  two. 
When  did  Merriweather  hear  from  his  wife?" 

"  The  mail  rider,  sir,  going  up  to  the  Sioux  Agency,  met  us  this 
morning  early  and  gave  him  a  letter.  He  brought  it  to  me  to  read. 
It  was  written  by  the  post-trader's  wife.  She  says  Mrs.  Merriweather 
is  really  seriously  ill." 

"Very  good.  Then  he  can  go  by  the  ambulance.  So  can  your 
man,  major.  Tell  them  both  to  report  here  at  three  o'clock.  Isn't 
Merriweather's  time  nearly  out,  Ray  ?" 

"Only  two  months  to  serve,  sir,  and  he  says  he's  going  into  busi- 
ness with  a  brother  in  Chicago.  I  lose  three  non-commissioned  officers 
this  fall  in  that  way,  and  one  of  them  I  couldn't  take  on  again :  he's 
all  broken  down  with  wounds  and  rheumatism.  You'll  have  to  favor 
me  a  bit  in  the  matter  of  recruits,  colonel.  I  need  six,  or  shall  before 
we're  a  month  older." 

"  You  shall  have  the  first  good  man  that  enlists  at  Ransom,  Ray. 
I'm  told  we  may  pick  up  some  first-rate  material  there,  the  mines  have 
broken  so  many." 

"  All  right,  colonel ;  and  I'll  remind  you  if  I  see  any  likely  civilian 
hanging  around  head-quarters.     Good-day,  sir,  and  thank  you  very 


RAY'S  RECRUIT.  449 

much."     So   saying,  Captain  Ray  wheeled  about  and  trudged  away 
down-stream  to  make  report  to  his  battalion  commander, 

"Did  he  say  Merriweather  could  go?"  asked  the  major,  glancing 
up  at  Ray's  sunshiny  face.     "  I  wouldn't,  if  I  were  in  his  place." 

"He  wasn't  over-willing  at  first,"  was  the  answer.  "  Howev^er, 
my  fellows  will  all  be  wishing  themselves  back  in  the  field  before 
they've  been  home  a  fortnight, — small  blame  to  them." 

"  What's  the  reason  you're  so  down  on  garrison  life,  Ray  ?" 

"  I'm  not  down  on  it  exactly,  major,  but  if  it  weren't  for  the  wife 
and  boys  I'd  be  glad  if  we  were  forever  in  the  field,"  answered  Ray. 
"  Men  get  killed  in  this  Indian  business,  but  they — keep  out  of  trouble. 
There's  Merriweather,  now.  He  was  a  tip-top  sergeant  in  the  Sioux 
campaign.  He  was  one  of  the  best  all-round  troopers  and  non-com- 
missioned officers  in  the  regiment  all  through  the  campaigns  that  fol- 
lowed in  the  next  three  years,  and  he's  been  running  down  steadily 
ever  since  he  fell  in  love  with  that  flibbertigibbet  of  Freeman's.  Gar- 
rison life  and  girls  spoil  many  a  good  cavalryman,"  he  concluded, 
oracularly. 

"Don't  dare  me  to  tell  that  to  Mrs.  Ray  as  your  sentiments," 
grinned  the  major. 

"  Oh,  everything  depends  on  the  girl,  of  course,"  said  Ray,  growing 
instantly  grave.  "  Blakey  and  I — well,  /,  at  least,  owe  everything  to 
my  wife,"  he  finished,  almost  reverently.  Then  presently  he  spoke 
again.  "But  what  chance  has  the  average  trooper?  What  manner 
of  woman  has  he  to  mate  with,  if  he  mate  at  all  ?  Next  batch  of  re- 
cruits I  get  should  be  anchorites,  so  far  as  women  are  concerned." 

"  Sailors  are  just  as  bad  as  soldiers,"  said  Mainwariug,  sagely. 
Whereat  Blake  ducked  his  head  under  his  blanket  in  convulsions  of 
delight. 

"  I  know,  sir,"  said  Ray,  glancing  vengefully  at  the  contortions 
of  the  worn  gray  slumber-robe,  and  biting  his  own  lip  hard  to  repress 
the  bubbling  fun.  "  What  I  mean  is  that  I'd  like  to  get  the  troop  full 
of  fellows  that  couldn't  be  twisted  around  a  woman's  finger." 

"  You  never  will,  Ray,"  said  Mainwariug,  thereby  proving  that  he 
knew  human  nature,  if  not  books.  "  You  can  take  your  pick  of  this 
gang  that  Rawson's  bringing  out  with  him,  or  of  any  of  the  men  that 
offer  themselves  at  Ransom,  and  I'm  willing  to  bet  that  the  next  man 
you  enlist  will  be  woman-driven  from  the  word  go." 


CHAPTER    II. 


The  night  express  was  fifty  minutes  late  already,  and  engine  783, 
waiting  at  the  Junction  with  her  snow-plough  set,  was  hissing  and 
rumbling  impatiently.  The  big  brown  building,  embracing  hotel  and 
waiting-rooms,  ticket-  and  station-master's  office,  loomed  up  against 
the  star-dotted  sky.  The  switch-lights  gleamed  in  crimson,  green,  and 
dazzling  white  here,  there,  and  everywhere  along  the  glinting  rails. 
Bleary  lamps  were  burning  in  frost-covered  windows,  and  tiny  sparks 

-  Vol.  LIX.— 29 


450  RAV'S  RECRUIT. 

fluttered  from  the  pipe  of  the  solitary  biped  on  the  platform,  a  burly 
man  in  the  toil-stained  garb  of  a  locomotive  engineer,  a  sturdy  fellow 
who  limped  as  he  stamped  up  and  down  the  creaking  planks  of  the 
platform,  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  his  eyes  everywhere.  To  him  came 
forth  his  fireman,  splitting  his  mouth  with  a  wedge  of  bilious-looking 
pound-cake.  He  strove  to  speak,  but,  finding  articulation  impossible, 
jerked  backward  his  head  and  pantomimed  the  process  of  serving 
himself  with  a  cup  of  comforting  drink, — coffee,  presumably,  for  he 
was  fresh  from  the  lunch-counter. 

"Come,  swallow  the  rest  of  that  grub,  now,  and  be  lively  with 
your  oil-can.  We  can't  wait  two  minutes  after  she  once  gets  in.  No," 
he  continued,  as  the  younger  repeated  his  persuasive  pantomime,  "  I 
had  my  tea  at  home,  and  that's  enough.  You'll  die  of  over-eating, 
first  thing  you  know.  Do  your  best  now.  We've  got  an  extra  Pull- 
man and  a  car-load  of  greenhorns  to  haul  up  to  Butte  this  night  of  all 
others,  and  I'm  betting  it's  snowing  in  the  mountains  now." 

So  saying,  the  engineer  turned  and  gazed  anxiously  westward, 
where  even  the  stars  seemed  blotted  from  sight,  then  quickly  whirled 
about  and  bent  his  ear. 

"  Coming  at  last,"  he  muttered.  "  That's  old  Coyote's  yelp  for  the 
cross-roads.  Damned  little  wind  for  whistling  has  she  left,  either. 
No  wonder  No.  3's  late,  with  nothing  better  than  that  limping  carcass 
to  drag  it.  She  ought  to  be  in  the  bone-yard, — ought  to  'a'  been  there 
a  year  ago.  But  here's  the  beauty,"  said  he  to  himself,  as  he  turned 
and  laid  a  loving  l)and  on  the  massive  driving-rod  of  the  huge 
machine.     "Lively,  Scut,"  he  added  :  "3's  coming." 

Scut  was  descending  from  the  cab  as  a  cat  comes  down  a  tree, 
backward.  "What  'n  'ell  they  takin'  recruits  to  Ransom  for  now?" 
he  asked.     "  The  war's  over." 

"It's  to  fill  the  gaps  made  when  the  war  wasn't  over,  young  man, 
and  mighty  hard  they'll  find  it  to  fill  some  of  'em,  too.  Jim  Strang, 
that  was  killed  at  Cave  Springs,  was  corporal  with  me  in  Bates's  troop 
eight  years  ago,  and  there  wasn't  a  better  sergeant  in  all  the  cavalry. 
Lo  loves  a  shining  mark,  or  I'd  never  got  hit  twice  in  one  day." 

"  Would  you  go  back  to  soldierin'  if  you  could,  Mr.  Long?"  asked 
the  fireman,  tilting  up  his  long-necked  can  as  he  thrust  the  nozzle  deep 
in  between  the  spokes  of  a  massive  driver. 

"  I  ?  Give  me  back  the  legs  I  had  before  the  Sioux  made  a  sieve 
of  my  skin,  and  it  isn't  the  rail  I'd  be  riding,  but  the  best  sorrel  in 
Billy  Ray's  troop,  and  with  the  best  office  in  it,  and  that's  first  ser- 
geant." 

"  It's  takin'  chances  to  be  in  the  cavalry  these  days,"  said  he  of  the 
oil-can,  listening  to  the  low,  far-away  rumble  of  the  coming  train. 
"Do  you  see  her  head-light  yet?" 

"She  isn't  through  the  cut,"  was  Long's  answer.  "As  to  taking 
chances,  they've  done  nothing  but  take  chances  in  that  regiment  ever 
since  the  war;  yet  there  isn't  a  day  of  our  lives  we  don't  take  chances, 
and  bigger  chances,  right  here  (m  this  mountain  division." 

A  tall  young  fellow  in  travelling-cap  and  ulster  had  come  out  from 
the  lunch-room  and  was  strolling  over  towards  the  hissing  engine. 


RAV'S  RECRUIT.  451 

He  stopped  aud  listened  as  Long  spoke,  then  seemed  to  be  pondering 
over  the  words  and  looking  to  the  engine-man  for  explanation. 

"How  do  you  mean?"  asked  Scut,  pausing  in  his  work  and  look- 
ing up.     "  We  haven't  had  a  '  hold-up'  on  the  road  for  over  a  year." 

"Neither  have  we  had  a  head-on  collision,  nor  spreading  rails,  nor 
a  plunge  from  a  trestle,  but  they  are  only  three  of  the  things  likely  to 
occur  any  minute,  especially  when  trains  are  running  behind  as  we  are 
to-niglit, — all  on  account  of  that  one-eyed  Coyote  that's  peeping  at 
you  down  yonder." 

It  was  the  head-light  of  No.  3,  just  dawning  on  the  view  at  Mile 
End  Crossing,  to  which  the  engineer  referred. 

"  Watch  how  slowly  she  comes,"  he  added.  "  The  old  maid  is 
about  worn  out.  Here's  the  girl  that  can  shake  that  train  up  grade  as 
though  'twas  made  of  bandboxes.  I'll  bet  you  we  make  Butte  by 
seven  o'clock." 

"  I'll  bet  you  don't,  if  you'll  let  me  in,"  was  the  cool  interjection 
of  the  young  man  ulster-clad ;  "  for  Butte's  my  objective  point." 

"What  do  you  know  about  it,  or  about  railroading?"  asked  Long, 
suspiciously. 

"  As  much  as  you  did  when  you  quit  soldiering,  and  no  more, 
wherein  we  have  much  in  common,  Mr.  Long;  but  here's  where  the 
difference  comes  in.  You  quit  soldiering  to  take  to  the  railroad  ;  I 
quit  the  road  to  take  to  soldiering." 

"Oh,  I  see.  Then  you're  an  officer?"  queried  Long,  his  accus- 
tomed lips  framing  the  little  word  "sir"  and  almost  resenting  his 
enforced  omission  of  the  once  familiar  monosyllable.  Long  said  "  sir" 
to  no  one  under  the  division  superintendent  now. 

"I?  Devil  a  bit,"  was  the  laughing  answer.  "I'm  not  even  a 
lance, — not  even  a  recruit.     Man,  I  haven't  signed  my  papers  yet." 

"  Then  take  a  fool's  advice  and  don't  sign  them,"  interposed  Long. 
"You've  got  no  call  to  go  soldiering.  Such  as  you  come  in  only  when 
it's  whiskey  or  women  or  cards." 

"  Say  it's  all  three,  if  you  like,"  was  the  half-laughing  answer.  "  I 
heard  of  you  as  one  of  the  old  cavalrymen  at  the  barracks  yonder," 
and  the  stranger  nodded  carelessly  over  his  shoulder  in  the  direction 
of  the  post,  established  long  years  before  when  the  road  was  being 
built.  "  They  sent  me  there  by  mistake.  It's  the  cavalry  I  want,  not 
infantry.'^ 

The  engineer  looked  the  speaker  over  in  surprise.  Away  down 
the  track  the  head-light  of  the  incoming  train  was  growing  bigger 
every  moment,  and  the  rumble  of  the  bulky  approach  could  be  plainly 
heard. 

"You  don't  look  like  a  man  who  had  to  take  to  soldiering,"  he 
said. 

"Oh,  I'm  not,"  was  the  prompt,  good-natured  reply.  "I  do  it 
simply  because  I've  a  hankering  that  way,  and — no  other,"  he  added, 
under  his  breath.  "Perhaps  you  can  tell  me  something  of  the  regi- 
ment at  Ransom  ?" 

"  Enough  about  it  to  talk  from  here  to  'Frisco,  but  there's  no  time 
now.     We've  got  to  pull  out  with  that  train  the  moment  their  engine 


452  RAY'S  RECRUIT. 

gets  out  of  our  way.  But  you're  the  first  man  I  ever  met  out  here 
who  would  openly  say  he  was  going  to  enlist.  They  all  come  up 
shamefaced  like,  as  though  it  was  the  last  thing  they  wanted  people  to 
know." 

"Oh,  I  never  found  it  paid  to  sail  under  false  colors,"  was  the 
answer,  in  a  tone  of  gay  good  humor,  not  unmixed  with  a  dash  of 
reckless  disdain.  "I've  nothing  to  lose.  But  I  would  like  to  ask 
you  something  about  the  troop  commanders  there  at  Ransom.  Can't 
you  give  me  a  lift  in  the  cab?  I've  a  pocketful  of  better  weeds  than 
you  get  out  this  way,  if  that's  any  inducement."  And,  so  saying,  he 
reached  down  into  the  deep  pocket  of  his  ulster  and  brought  out  a 
handful  of  cigars. 

Mr.  Long's  manner  changed  in  an  instant.  "  'Gainst  orders,"  said 
he,  briefly,  gazing  suspiciously  into  the  stranger's  face  as  he  spoke. 
"Better  get  your  ticket,  if  you're  going  to  Butte."  And,  swinging 
himself  up  to  his  perch,  he  grasped  the  reversimg  lever  with  one  hand 
and  the  throttle  with  the  other.  Scut  laid  hold  of  the  cord  and  set  the 
big  bell  to  swinging  warning  of  their  coming.  The  huge  machine 
began  slowly  to  move  rearward  as  the  much  maligned  and  belated 
Coyote  came  hissing  by  on  the  fireman's  side,  and  that  begrimed  young 
man  availed  himself  of  the  chance  to  chaff  his  fellow-workers  in  the 
flitting  cab.  He  took  no  heed,  therefore,  of  the  stranger's  parting  hail, 
but  Long  was  eying  him  closely  and  listening  for  any  word. 

"  I've  got  tickets  all  right,"  said  the  lonely  man  on  the  platform, 
"but  I'd  rather  sit  up  in  a  cab  than  sleep  in  a  Pullman.  It's  all 
right,  though.  Have  a  smoke  anyhow."  And  with  lavish  hand  he 
tossed  half  a  dozen  cigars  into  the  cab  as  he  walked  beside  the  moving 
engine.  Then,  with  a  cordial  wave  of  his  hand,  he  turned  aside  to  the 
lunch-room,  into  the  door-way  of  which  a  half-score  of  hungry  pas- 
sengers from  the  arriving  train  were  eagerly  pushing. 

"  Only  three  minutes,  gents,"  sung  out  the  conductor.  "  We've 
got  to  make  up  time  before  we  reach  the  Rockies — can't  do  it  there." 
And  he  darted  into  the  train-despatcher's  office  to  register  and  receive 
his  orders. 

Meantime  Scut,  still  clinging  to  the  bell-cord  with  one  hand,  was 
scooping  up  cigars  with  the  right.  "  That  fellow's  a  prince,"  said  he. 
"Just  look  at  that  for  a  seegar."  And  he  held  it  admiringly  up  to 
Long  to  see,  and  was  amazed  at  the  gloom  in  his  companion's  face. 
"Why,  what's  up?"  he  asked. 

"  What's  up  ?"  repeated  the  engineer,  as  he  slowed  down  on  nearing 
the  forward  end  of  the  mail-car.  "  A  hold-up,  unless  I'm  mistaken, 
and  the  fewer  of  them  cigars  you  stick  in  your  mouth  the  more  brains 
you'll  have  left  in  the  morning."  With  a  sharp  click  the  heavy 
coupling-pin  was  driven  home,  and  Long  sent  the  reversing  lever  over 
to  the  front,  then  poked  his  head  out  of  the  side  of  the  cab  and  shouted 
to  a  train-hand  he  saw  hurrying  by,  "  Where  you  got  them  recruits, 
Billy?" 

"  First  coach  behind  the  baggage,"  was  the  answer,  as  the  man 
glanced  over  his  shoulder.  "  There's  some  of  'em  now."  And,  as  he 
spoke,  bounding,  laughing,  and  dodging  through  the  knot  of  hungry 


RAY'S  RECRUIT.  453 

passengers,  half  a  dozen  young  fellows  in  fatigue  uniform  or  bright 
blue  overcoats  went  hastening  by  to  the  lunch-room,  followed  by 
shouts  from  somewhere  back  along  the  train.  Presently  a  middle-aged 
man  in  the  garb  of  a  sergeant  of  cavalry  came  stalking  after  them,  a 
man  who  seemed  just  aroused  from  sound  sleep,  and  not  too  well 
pleased  as  a  consequence. 

**'  Gret  back  to  that  car,  you  men,"  he  ordered,  authoritatively. 
"  Didn't  I  tell  you  not  a  soul  of  you  could  leave  it  without  my  per- 
mission ?" 

But  the  recruits  were  lined  up  at  the  lunch-counter  by  this  time, 
and  gleefully  shouting  for  coffee  and  reaching  for  doughnuts,  pie,  any- 
thing edible  within  reach.  The  waiter  looked  perturbed  and  hesitated. 
The  proprietor  came  hurrying  over  from  his  desk.  The  little  throng 
of  passengers  seemed  sympathetic  and  interested.  "  Who's  to  pay  for 
this?"  demanded  the  owner,  as  the  sergeant  came  fuming  and  almost 
fighting  his  way  into  the  crowded  room.  "  Have  your  men  got  any 
money  ?" 

"  'Course  we  have,"  sung  out  a  jovial  Pat,  "  and  the  credit  of  a 
benevolent  and  paternal  government  to  back  it,  and  there's  ray  last 
cint  to  prove  what  I  say,"  he  added,  whacking  down  a  silver  dollar  on 
the  counter. 

"  That  ain't  enough  by  the  mate  to  it,"  said  the  proprietor,  gruffly. 
"  Come,  clear  out,  you  boys.  Train's  going ;  no  time  for  coffee.  This 
will  pay  for  the  things  you're  eating,"  said  he ;  and  he  made  a  grab  for 
the  dollar,  but  Pat  was  too  quick  for  him. 

"  'Board,"  shouted  a  hoarse  voice  on  the  platform  without. 

"  Back  to  your  car,  you  men,"  ordered  the  sergeant. 

"  Give  me  that  dollar,"  demanded  the  boss. 

"  Give  us  the  coffee,"  replied  the  recruits,  and  for  once  the  populace 
seemed  to  side  with  the  soldier.  The  tall  young  man  in  the  ulster  and 
travelling-cap  lounged  up  to  the  counter  and  tossed  a  two-dollar  bill  at 
the  angry  manager.  "  Give  them  what  they  want,"  said  he,  "  and  be 
quick  about  it.  Have  some  coffee  yourself,  sergeant.  There'll  be  no 
other  chance  till  you  get  to  Butte."  Then,  with  swift,  significant, 
downward  glance  at  the  flap  of  a  pocket,  he  lifted  into  view  the  silver 
top  of  a  sizable  flask,  and  the  sergeant  grinned  and  nodded  apprecia- 
tively. The  steaming  cups  were  slid  along  the  board,  the  embryo 
soldiers  laughing  and  hustling  good-naturedly,  pouring  the  hot  liquid 
into  the  thick  stone  saucers  and  blowing  industriously  at  the  yellow- 
brown  flood.  The  conductor  came  to  the  door  and  stormed  ;  the 
passengers  began  to  edge  away  for  their  cars.  No.  783  gave  a  warn- 
ing whoop  or  two,  and  the  fireman  pulled  at  the  bell-cord,  but  the 
blue-coats  wouldn't  budge. 

"  Go  ahead.  Long.  Damned  if  I'll  hold  this  train  another  second," 
shouted  the  conductor,  with  energetic  wave  of  his  lantern.  Hiss  went 
the  stop-cocks.  The  big  engine  quivered  and  trembled  in  response, 
and  with  convulsive  cough  a  volume  of  inky  smoke  was  belched  from 
the  stack.  Scut's  bell  clanged  furiously,  but  only  very  slowly  the 
long,  ponderous  train  began  to  move.  The  crockery  rattled  and  the 
windows  shook  as  the  massive  engine  came  boiling  and  rumbling  and 


454  BAY'S  RECRUIT. 

panting  by.  The  conductor  heard  his  name  called  by  the  engineer  and 
hurried  alongside.  "Look  out  for  that  kid  in  the  big  ulster.  Tell 
you  why  at  Willow  Springs,"  was  the  hoarse  warning,  as,  with  slowly 
quickening  speed,  old  783  went  ponderously  on.  The  conductor 
looked  dazed.  The  joyous  band  of  blue-coats  came  tumbling  forth  as 
the  foremost  car  rolled  smoothly  past,  and,  agile  as  monkeys,  leaped  to 
the  platform  of  the  baggage  and  "  smoker,"  waving  their  caps  and 
shouting  jovial  farewells.  The  sergeant,  once  more  assuming  official 
relations,  sternly  ordered  them  within  their  own  car,  and  bade  them 
keep  quiet,  that  the  other  men,  wearied,  might  sleep.  Then  the  con- 
ductor came  hurriedly  in  and  glanced  eagerly  about  him  as  the  sergeant 
looked  at  his  watch. 

It  was  just  half-past  one. 

"Who's  your  friend  in  the  ulster?"  demanded  the  conductor. 
«  Where'd  he  go  ?" 

"  Never  saw  him  before  in  my  life,"  said  the  sergeant.  "  I  s'posed 
we  left  him  there,"  he  added,  with  regretful  thought  of  that  handsome, 
capacious,  silver-topped  flask. 

"Did  you  see  where  he  went?"  asked  the  conductor  of  the  brake- 
man  who  followed  in. 

"  Thought  he  jumped  on  the  next  car,"  was  the  answer.  "  He  had 
a  grip-sack,  I  know." 

*'  Go  and  see,"  was  the  brief  order. 

The  official  turned  once  more  to  the  sergeant,  who  was  settling  him- 
self back  in  his  seat.  "  Say,  you'll  have  to  take  better  care  of  your 
men,"  he  began.  "  I  can't  have  them  bouncing  out  at  every  stopping- 
place  and  delaying  the  train." 

"  You  don't,"  said  the  sergeant,  with  a  yawn.  "  That's  the  first 
time  any  one  of  them  has  got  oif,  and  they  wouldn't  have  done  that  if 
it  wasn't  that  they  were  hard  up  for  coffee." 

"  You  should  have  given  them  coffee  last  night  at  the  supper 
station,"  said  the  conductor,  wrathfully. 

"  I  did,  and  it  was  so  bad  they  threw  it  away.  This  was  better, 
and  I'm  sorry  they  weren't  all  awake  to  have  some.  They'll  need  it 
before  we  get  to  Butte.  What  time  can  we  make  it  now,  d'you 
s'pose?" 

"  Not  before  seven,  if  we  do  then.  We  have  two  freights  and  a 
cattle-train  to  meet,  and  everything's  running  crooked  to-night,  even 
if  we  have  no  other  trouble.  Sure  you  never  saw  that  fellow  in  the 
ulster  before  ?" 

"  Sure.     What's  the  matter  with  him  ?     He  treated  like  a  nabob." 

"That's  one  reason  I  want  to  know  all  about  him.  What  arms 
have  you  fellows?" 

"  None  at  all,"  was  the  answer,  as  the  sergeant  looked  up  in  sur- 
prise. "  I've  a  revolver,  of  course,  but  that's  all.  Why  ?  You  never 
have  a  '  hold-up'  along  here,  do  you  ?" 

But  the  conductor  did  not  answer.  The  train  had  "struck  its 
gait,"  as  he  expressed  it,  now,  and  was  swaying  as  it  tore  westward 
along  the  rattling  rails.  The  brakeman  was  hastening  back  to  the  car. 
"See  him?"  queried  the  conductor,  impatiently. 


RAY'S  RECRUIT.  455 

"  No,  sir  :  he's  gone  back  to  the  sleeper." 

Somewere  among  the  drowsing  car-load  of  recruits  a  voice  was 
uplifted  in  not  unmelodious  song.  Most  of  the  men  were  sleeping 
soundly,  but  the  lively  squad  of  night-owls  just  bundled  aboard, 
refreshed  by  their  coffee  and  bite  at  the  station,  seemed  desirous  of 
further  entertainment.  "Odd,"  said  the  conductor,  "I've  hauled 
many  a  lot  of  poor  devils  out  to  Wyoming  and  beyond  ;  most  of  'em 
never  came  back,  but  I  never  yet  saw  a  lot  that  didn't  sing.  What 
on  earth  iiave  they  got  to  sing  for?" 

"  The  Lord  knows,"  answered  the  sergeant,  "  and  I've  been  soldier- 
ing twenty  years." 

"  Always  in  the  cavalry  ?" 

"  Yes,  all  but  one  'listment  in  a  casemate  that  brought  me  nearer 
to  desertion  than  ever  I  thought  to  be." 

"Never  meet  my  engineer, — Jimmy  Long?  He  used  to  be  ser- 
geant in  the  cavalry  out  here.  Got  shot  through  the  legs  in  an  Indian 
fight  seven  or  eight  years  ago  and  had  to  quit." 

"  Know  of  him  well,  as  most  of  us  did,  and  I'd  be  glad  to  see  him. 
He's  pulling  us  to-night,  is  he?" 

"  Yes,  and  I  wish  you'd  come  forward  with  me  when  we  get  to 
Willow  Springs,  only  a  few  miles  ahead  now.  He  thinks  there's  some- 
thing wrong  with  that  young  fellow  in  the  ulster.  I've  got  to  go  back 
and  look  him  up.  Meet  me  on  the  platform,  right-hand  side,  when 
we  stop,  will  you  ?" 

The  sergeant  nodded,  and  the  conductor  went  his  way. 

In  the  foremost  sleeper  he  found  the  object  of  his  search,  already 
comfortably  ensconced  in  the  smoking-compartment,  his  ulster  thrown 
aside,  his  feet  on  the  opposite  seat,  a  fragrant  cloud  of  smoke  curling 
from  the  tip  of  his  cigar.  He  had  raised  the  window,  and  was  gazing 
out  upon  a  spangled  firmament  above,  a  black  void  where  lay  the 
barren  earth  below.  Without  a  word,  his  cigar  still  between  his  teeth, 
he  felt  in  the  waistcoat-pocket  of  a  well-made  travelling-suit  of  tweed, 
took  out  a  card-case,  and  extracted  therefrom  his  railway  and  berth 
tickets  and  handed  them  to  the  lantern-bearing  official. 

The  conductor  studied  the  former  closely.  It  was  a  "  through" 
from  Chicago  to  Butte,  unlimited.  He  turned  it  upside  down,  hind 
side  foremost,  and  still  seemed  to  find  nothing  amiss. 

"  Where'd  you  get  this?"  he  presently  asked,  glancing  keenly  at  the 
young  man  from  under  his  cap  visor.  The  passenger,  still  without 
removing  his  cigar,  simply  pointed  to  the  head  of  the  ticket,  which 
showed  that  it  was  purchased  at  the  office  of  the  C  R.  I.  &  P.  in 
Chicago.     "Stopped  off  at  Platte  Junction  ?"  asked  the  conductor. 

"Yes.     What  time  will  we  reach  Butte?" 

"  Not  before  seven.  Plenty  of  time  to  go  to  bed  and  sleep."  And 
the  tone  of  the  railway  official  plainly  indicated  that  that  was  what  the 
conductor  thought  the  young  man  ought  to  do,  instead  of  mooning  to 
all  hours  of  the  night  in  the  smoking-room.  The  passenger  gravely 
nodded  acquiescence  and  said  nothing.  After  an  irresolute  pause  the 
conductor  again  spoke  :  "Did  you  tell  the  porter  to  show  vou  to  your 
berth  ?" 


456  RAV'S  RECRUIT. 

The  traveller  in  tweeds  was  evidently  a  youth  of  varying  moods. 
Chatting  with  the  engineer  he  was  frank,  jovial,  light-hearted,  even 
confiding.  In  the  brief  scene  with  the  troopers  he  was  laughing  and 
friendly,  even  lavish,  from  their  point  of  view.  Was  it  some  sense  of 
suspicion,  some  subtle  intuition  that  he  was  the  object  of  a  special 
scrutiny  on  the  conductor's  part, — that  he  was  being  subjected  to  a 
cross-questioning  never  thought  of  in  the  case  of  other  patrons  of  the 
road?  Something  in  the  conductor's  look,  tone, and  manner  had  given 
him  umbrage.  Like  some  itinerant  clam,  storm-tossed  and  at  odds 
with  the  world,  he  drew  within  his  shell  and  clamped  the  jaws  of  his 
reserve.  Something  akin  to  a  frown  settled  between  his  eyebrows. 
He  looked  coolly,  almost  defiantly,  straight  into  the  half-closed  eyes  of 
his  questioner,  with  a  pair  of  wide-open  keen  blue  orbs  of  his  own, 
and  under  his  soft  brown  moustache  his  curved  pink  lips  set  like  a  trap. 
For  a  moment  he  made  no  reply,  then  finally  answered,  "  No." 

Mr.  Jarvis  was  an  old  hand.  He  had  run  trains  over  the  Trans- 
continental ever  since  it  first  bored  a  way  through  the  hunting-grounds 
of  the  Sioux,  and  many  a  tramp  had  he  hustled  off  the  cars  in  mid- 
prairie,  but  this  was  no  tramp.  This  was  a  self-possessed,  well-dressed, 
fine-looking  tourist,  and,  but  for  the  straight,  sharp,  American  clip  to 
his  words,  rather  of  the  English  type.  He  nettled  the  conductor,  and 
the  conductor  had  nettled  him.  Each  was  now  bristling  at  every  point, 
and  in  no  mood  to  appreciate  the  other's  position. 

"  Well,  do  you  propose  to  sit  up  all  night?"  was  the  next  question, 
propounded  in  a  tone  common  enough  on  the  far-away  Western  railway 
a  decade  or  so  ago. 

"  What  earthly  business  is  it  of  yours  whether  I  do  or  not  ?  I've 
bought  a  berth  and  the  privilege  of  using  it  or  nt)t  as  I  see  fit." 

The  train  was  slowing.  It  was  nearing  Willow  Springs.  The 
conductor  had  other  duties  to  attend  to,  and  knew  he  must  quit  the 
field. 

"  I'll  see  you  later,  my  cocky  friend,"  he  muttered  to  himself,  as 
he  turned  angrily  away,  with  distinct  sense  of  defeat,  then  let  himself 
out  on  the  platform  with  a  most  unprofessional  slam  of  the  sleeper 
door. 

It  was  a  long  hundred  yards  up  to  the  engine,  but  Jarvis  hastened 
through  the  day-car  and  smoker  until  he  came  to  the  recruit-car  plat- 
form, by  which  time  the  train  was  at  a  stand  and  he  could  safely  spring 
off  and  run  alongside.  Under  the  dim  light  of  the  station,  the  tall 
figure  of  the  cavalry  sergeant  loomed  before  his  eyes,  his  chevrons, 
stripes,  and  buttons  gleaming.  The  station-keeper  came  sleepily  forth 
as  the  conductor  stepped  into  the  dim  beam  of  light  from  the  office 
window.  "Come  on  up  to  the  engine  witii  me,"  he  said,  and,  wondering, 
the  drowsy  servitor  followed.  The  platform  was  short,  and  the  trio 
presently  had  to  spring  down  and  trudge  along  the  prairie  sod  by  the 
track  side.  Long  was  waiting  for  them,  leaning  out  from  his  cab.  At 
sight  of  the  once  familiar  crossed  sabres  and  buttons  a  gleam  of  pleasure 
shot  across  his  grimy  face. 

"  Hullo,"  he  said.  "  I  used  to  know  pretty  much  every  fellow  that 
wore  the  stripes  in  that  regiment." 


RAY'S  RECRUIT.  457 

"  And  pretty  much  every  fellow  in  it  knew  you  or  of  you.  My 
name's  Kearney/'  said  the  sergeant,  reaching  up  a  hand.  But  the 
conductor  had  no  time  for  ceremonies. 

"  What's  this  about  the  feller  in  the  ulster?"  he  demanded.  "  He's 
ticketed  through  to  Butte  from  Chicago,  and  is  sassy  as  they  make  'em. 
What  d'  you  know  ?" 

"  I  don't  hnoio  anything.  But  you  remember  that  affair  on  the 
K.  P.  last  July, — the  swell  that  shot  the  expressman  near  Wallace? 
Well,  he  was  just  such  another  good-looking  fellow  as  this,  well  dressed 
and  all  that,  with  lots  of  money.  What  makes  me  suspicion  this  chap 
is  that  he  says  he's  out  here  to  enlist;  wanted  to  ride  in  the  cab  and 
talk  about  it  to  me.  Who  ever  heard  of  a  fellow  wanting  to  enlist 
until  he  was  dead  broke  or  half  starved?  This  young  fellow's  pockets 
are  full  of  cigars." 

"iJe  don't  want  to  enlist,"  chimed  in  Sergeant  Kearney,  derisively. 
"He  has  a  roll  as  thick  as  my  hand.  Treated  all  the  crowd  back 
there  at  the  Junction." 

"You  hear  that?"  said  Long.  "It's  just  like  as  not  he's  aboard 
to  find  out  who's  in  that  sleeper  and  who's  armed  in  the  day-car,  and 
we'll  meet  his  pals  somewhere  up  in  the  foot-hills.  Better  let  some 
of  the  soldiers  into  the  express-car  and  one  or  two  here  with  me  after 
we  pass  No.  12.     Where  does  she  side-track  for  us?" 

"  We'll  get  orders  at  Boulder  Creek,"  answered  the  conductor. 
"I'll  watch  our  cocky  friend  till  then.  No.  12  can't  pull  out  of 
Thunder  Gap  till  we  get  there.  Now  let  her  go  for  all  she's  worth, 
Jimmy." 

Then  back  to  the  platform  he  hurried,  eagerly  explaining  to  the 
silent  station-master  the  cause  of  their  delay  earlier  in  the  night.  The 
sergeant  sprang  aboard,  and  Jarvis  swung  his  lantern. 

"  You  haven't  heard  of  12  at  all  ?"  he  shouted. 

"  Not  since  she  left  Pawnee,"  was  the  answering  cry.  "  They'll 
hold  her  at  the  Gap." 

And  now  as  the  sergeant  re-entered  the  stuify  coach  the  songster 
had  ceased.  The  melodious  sounds  had  given  place  to  many  a  snore. 
He  glanced  again  at  his  watch,  and  the  hands  were  pointing  to  five 
minutes  of  two. 


CHAPTER  III. 


Rushing  westward  through  the  night,  the  great  train  was  indeed 
"going  for  all  she  was  worth."  Twenty-five  miles  away  lay  the  foot- 
hills. There  began  the  tortuous  up-hill  climb  to  the  high  plateau  at 
Pawnee,  forty  miles  of  twist,  turn,  tug,  and  pull,  that  in  the  earlier 
days  of  the  road  were  never  attempted  without  two  engines.  Now  the 
mammoths  like  783  scorned  even  a  pusher.  But  to-night  she  had  to 
haul  an  extra  sleeper  and  an  extra  coach,  both  crowded,  the  latter 
packed  with  recruits,  the  former  with  a  joyous  party  of  excursionists, 
bound  for  the  Pacific  coast.  It  was  swift,  straight,  smooth  running 
along  the  flats  of  the  broad  valley,  dotted  here  and  there  as  it  was  with 


458  RAV'S  RECRUIT. 

farms  and  ranches,  and  traversed  over  the  old  buffalo  ranges  by  great 
herds  of  horned  cattle.  This  crisp,  moonless,  star-lit  night  all  the 
Western  world  was  dark  and  still,  but  for  the  clank  and  rush  of  the 
flashing  monster  with  its  long,  dimly-lighted  train.  The  lonely  occu- 
pant of  the  smoking-compartment,  gazing  silently  out  upon  the  north- 
ward heavens,  had  forgotten  to  keep  alive  the  tiny  fire  of  his  cigar,  and 
it  had  died  unnoticed  between  his  long,  white,  slender  fingers.  A 
glance  at  the  handsome  watch  he  drew  from  his  waistcoat-pocket  told 
him  it  was  almost  two  o'clock  as,  after  a  brief  stop  at  some  unknown, 
almost  unseen,  station,  the  train  rolled  on  again.  Tiie  porter  had  come 
in  to  ask  some  question  about  how  he  would  have  his  pillow,  front  or 
back,  and  was  told  it  made  no  difference.  Would  the  gentleman  like 
one  here  in  the  smoking-room  ?  No,  he  would  turn  in  presently. 
Call  him  in  plenty  of  time  for  Butte.  Then  the  porter  tiptoed  off  to 
the  rear  of  the  heavily  curtained  aisle  and  curled  himself  up  in  a 
vacant  section,  leaving  the  stranger  to  his  thoughts. 

And  that  these  were  sad  there  could  be  no  doubt  whatever.  His 
face  as  it  sank  into  repose  looked  white  and  drawn  in  the  dim  light 
of  the  overhanging  lamp.  Once  or  twice,  as  he  gazed  out  upon  the 
waste  of  darkness,  his  eyes  seemed  to  fill,  his  lip  to  quiver  with  strange, 
strong  emotion.  Once  he  bent  forward,  covered  his  face  with  both 
hands,  and  leaned  his  elbows  on  his  knees,  then  suddenly  started,  pulled 
himself  together,  "  braced  up"  as  he  perhaps  would  have  expressed  it, 
thrust  the  moist  end  of  the  cigar  between  his  teeth,  found  it  cold  and 
unresponsive,  tossed  it  away,  arose,  gave  himself  a  shake,  took  the  flask 
from  his  ulster-pocket  and  j)assed  through  the  door-way  to  the  lavatory 
where  were  the  ice-water  tanks,  and  started  despite  himself. 

A  haggard  face,  flattened  against  the  glass  of  the  forward  door-way, 
was  peering  in  at  him, — a  face  that  was  instantly  withdrawn. 

This  was  before  the  days  of  vestibuled  cars.  Seizing  the  door-knob 
and  laying  his  flask  on  one  of  the  basins,  the  young  fellow  quickly  let 
himself  out  upon  the  platform  and  glanced  about  him.  There  on  the 
lowest  step,  clinging  to  the  hand-rail,  cringed  and  cowered  the  figure 
of  a  man  who  turned  his  head  and  gazed  piteously,  pleadingly  up  at 
the  tall  stranger.  A  tramp  beyond  doubt,  and  a  shivering  wretch  he 
was,  for  the  night  air  was  sharply  cold.  A  powerful  hand  was  laid 
upon  the  shoulder  of  the  crouching  figure  and  heaved  it  up,  and  the 
poor  creature's  teeth  chattered  as  he  made  some  inaudible  plea. 

"  I  can't  hear  you,"  said  the  man  in  tweeds.  "  Come  in  here. 
You're  half  frozen."  And  he  would  have  led  him  into  the  sleeper, 
but  found  that  the  snap-latch  was  set, — that  he  had  locked  himself  out. 
Still  clinging  to  his  prisoner,  he  led  on  into  the  rear  door  of  the  day-coach 
ahead.  The  lights  were  burning  blear  and  dim.  The  passengers, 
curled  or  sprawled  about  their  seats,  were  sleeping  as  best  they  could. 
A  brakeman's  lantern  lay  on  the  floor  at  the  head  of  the  aisle,  and  the 
brakeman  sat  in  a  forward  seat,  half  dozing,  wholly  unconscious  of 
the  addition  to  the  car-load. 

"Stealing  a  ride,  I  suppose?"  said  our  traveller,  presently. 
"  Where're  you  trying  to  get  to?"  And  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders 
he  glanced  pityingly  at  his  quaking  captive. 


RAY'S  RECRUIT.  459 

"  To  Pawnee, — half-way  over  the  range,"  was  the  shivering  answer. 
"  I've  got  a  sick  wife  there,  and  was  beatin'  my  way  as  well  as  I 

could "     But  the  poor  fellow  gave  it  up.     Cold  and  misery  and 

hunger  were  too  much  for  him.  The  train  was  slowing  up  again; 
another  prairie  station, — they  had  them  every  ten  or  dozen  miles. 
The  brakemau  shook  himself,  picked  up  his  lantern,  and  went  out  in 
front.  The  party  in  tweeds  shoved  his  new  acquaintance  into  the  first 
vacant  seat,  swung  himself  to  the  ground  the  moment  the  train  stopped, 
ran  back,  and  tapped  under  a  rear  window  of  the  sleeper,  and  the  sash 
was  raised  and  the  porter's  head  popped  out. 

"  Let  me  in  at  the  rear  door,  porter,"  said  Tweeds.  ^'  I  locked 
myself  out." 

The  negro  recognized  the  voice  of  his  well-dressed  passenger,  sniffed 
a  double  fee,  and  jumped  for  the  door. 

"  Beg  pardon,  suh ;  sorry,  suh,  but  we  has  to  lock  these  doors  at 
night  out  hyuii  :  tramps  come  in  'most  any  time  if  we  don't." 

But  the  young  man  smiled  carelessly,  hastened  through  the  car,  got 
his  flask,  set  the  latch  so  that  he  could  re-enter,  and  the  next  minute 
was  administering  a  stiff  drink  to  the  rag-heap  on  the  rear  seat.  Once 
more  the  man  essayed  to  tell  his  story.  He  was  penniless,  he  hadn't 
even  anything  left  to  sell,  but  out  from  an  inner  pocket  he  took  an  old 
worn  card  photograph  and  showed  it  to  his  new-found  friend.  "  My 
wife  and  baby,"  said  he,  with  a  choke,  "  but  the  baby's  gone, — thank 
God." 

"  Here,  take  another  drink,"  said  Tweeds.  Then  back  to  the 
smoker  he  went,  and  reappeared  with  some  sandwiches.  The  train 
again  moved  on.  The  brakeman  returned,  became  aware  of  the  new- 
comers, and  came  down  and  curiously  inspected  them.  The  liquor,  the 
warmth,  the  food,  and  human  sympathy  were  restoring  courage  to  the 
abject  object  of  a  few  minutes  before.  He  looked  up  without  a  quaver 
at  the  brakeman's  hail,  but  Tweeds  spoke  for  him.  "  I  found  this 
poor  fellow  back  here  a  few  miles  half  frozen,  and  hauled  him  in.  He 
only  wants  to  go  on  to  Pawnee.  It's  all  right :  he  can  pay  his  fare 
when  the  conductor  comes." 

The  brakeman  went  off  suspiciously  to  hunt  up  his  chief  and  report, 
and  the  conductor  promptly  appeared.  His  face  grew  darker  at  sight 
of  the  two.  He  held  irresolutely  the  ten-dollar  bill  handed  him  by 
Tweeds,  and  looked  from  one  man  to  the  other  in  deep  distrust.  "  I 
don't  understand  this,"  he  said.  "  How'd  you — where'd  you  get 
aboard  ?" 

"At  Willow  Springs,"  said  the  tramp.  "  I  walked  there  from  the 
Junction.     I'd  'a'  frozen  if  it  hadn't  been  for  this  gentleman." 

"  I  can't  change  this,"  said  the  conductor.  "  I'll  fetch  it  presently." 
And,  nodding  to  his  brakeman  to  follow  him,  he  hurried  up  the  aisle. 
At  the  forward  end  of  the  car  he  whispered,  "  Watch  those  two  like  a 
cat,  now.  I'm  going  forward  to  get  the  sergeant  and  some  of  his  men 
and  seat  them  here  where  they  can  keep  an  eye  on  that  precious  pair. 
There's  fun  ahead  for  somebody  this  night,  but,  by  God,  they  don't 
catch  old  Bill  Jarvis  napping.     You  stay  here,  now,  till  I  come." 

But  no  sooner  weie  they  gone  than  the  tramp  began  brokenly  to 


460  RAY'S  RECRUIT. 

heap  thanks  and  blessings  on  his  benefactor,  and  the  latter  impatiently 
turned  away.  "  That's  all  right,"  said  he.  "  Never  mind  that.  I'm 
glad  to  help,  for  I  believe  your  story.  The  conductor  will  give  you 
the  change  when  he  comes  in.     Now,  good-night :  I've  got  to  turn  in." 

"  But — say  ;  Mister ;  Stranger, — hold  on  one  minute.  I — I  want 
to  pay  this  back — some  day.  How'U  I  know  you  ?  Where'll  I  send 
it?" 

But  Tweeds  shook  his  head,  waved  him  off,  strode  back  to  the 
sleeper,  sprung  the  latch  against  pursuit,  then  half  filled  a  glass  from 
his  flask,  gulped  the  contents  down,  and  reseated  himself  in  the 
smoking-compartment.  "  That's  the  first  man  I've  found  in  a  fort- 
night," said  he,  "  more  miserable  than  I  am." 

With  that  he  took  some  letters  from  his  pocket,  glanced  them  over, 
and  tore  the  envelopes  to  shreds,  sending  the  fragments  sailing  on  the 
night.  At  a  small  card  photograph  in  a  flat  Kussia  leather  case,  a 
portrait  of  a  laughing  girlish  face,  he  gazed  lingeringly,  then  returned 
it  to  an  inner  pocket.  "  No  one  would  know  it  now,"  he  muttered. 
Next  he  lifted  from  his  card-case  a  dozen  or  more  pasteboards  that  bore 
in  plain,  heavy  script  the  words  "Mr.  Darcy  Hunter  Gray,"  ripped 
them  into  shreds,  and  sent  them  flying.  As  calmly  and  methodically  he 
searched  through  every  pocket  for  every  scrap  of  paper,  bills  or  billet- 
doux,  anything  that  could  tend  to  establish  his  identity ;  glanced 
dubiously  at  the  monogram  on  the  back  of  his  watch  ;  scraped  the 
lettering  out  of  the  crown  of  his  hat;  took  a  fountain-pen  from  his 
pocket  and  some  j)aper  and  envelopes  from  his  satchel ;  wrote  with 
infinite  difficulty,  owing  to  the  swaying  of  the  car,  two  brief  notes 
which  he  enclosed  and  stowed  under  the  flap  of  his  bag,  then  once 
more  glanced  at  his  watch.  It  was  two  forty-five,  and  No.  783  was 
whistling  for  Boulder  Creek.  At  last  they  were  out  of  the  valley. 
Now  for  the  climb  up  the  divide. 

"  One  cigar,"  he  muttered.  "  I  let  the  other  go  out."  His  match- 
box had  disappeared.  He  tried  one  pocket  after  another,  without 
result.  Neither  was  there  one  to  be  had  in  the  compartment.  The 
train  had  stopped,  and  he  could  hear  footsteps  on  a  wooden  platform 
and  the  muffled  voices  of  men.  Tiptoeing  through  the  long,  dim, 
curtain-bordered  aisle,  he  was  suddenly  checked.  Out  from  a  narrow 
opening  between  the  curtains  of  the  second  section  came  a  slender  little 
white  hand,  holding  a  silver  travelling-cup,  and  a  soft  voice,  silvery 
as  the  cup,  murmured,  "Oh,  porter,  would  you  kindly  get  me  some 
water?"  Mr.  Gray  took  the  cup,  filled  it,  restored  it  with  a  bow  to 
the  unseen  occupant,  watched  the  lily-white  hand,  with  its  few  treasures 
of  rings,  slip  back  between  the  folds,  then  aroused  the  porter,  proffered 
his  request  for  matches,  and  asked  if  there  was  any  possibility  of  the 
ladies  being  incommoded  by  his  smoking. 

"No,  suh,  not  a  bit,  suh.  They  can't  smell  it  when  you  stay  in 
the  smoking-room.  There's  only  two  ladies  in  the  car,  suh.  Both 
going  up  to  Butte, — Mrs.  Main  waring  and  a  young  lady  with  her." 

"  Know  her  name?" 

"  No,  suh,  I  don't,  suh.  The  lady  with  her  calls  her  Pet  mos'  the 
time." 


RAY'S  RECRUIT.  461 

Mr,  Gray  once  more  returned  to  his  compartment,  lighted  his  cigar, 
and  seated  himself  in  the  corner  by  the  open  window.  The  train  still 
lay  at  the  station.  Voices  still  echoed  among  the  dingy  wooden 
buildings,  and  a  light  or  two  flickered  about  the  platform.  The  con- 
ductor's voice  was  presently  heard.  He  was  interrogating  the  station- 
agent,  and  Gray,  seated  close  to  the  open  casement,  couldn't  help 
hearing, 

''  Both  took  tickets  to  Pawnee  ?" 

"  Yes,  both.  Left  their  horses  here  in  Hank's  stable  and  took 
supper.     No,  they  haven't  been  drinking  at  all." 

Mr.  Jarvis  lowered  his  voice.  He  was  talking  eagerly,  but  only 
the  answer  was  audible. 

"Oh,  of  course;  cowboys  always  are.  Each  has  his  revolver  and 
knife.     But  you'll  see  'em  for  yourself:  they're  in  the  smoking-car." 

"Sure  nobody  knew  'em  around  here?" 

"Certain.     They  said  they'd  never  been  here  before." 

Mr.  Jarvis  waved  his  lantern.  "  Well,  we've  got  to  go,"  said  he, 
"  but  you  keep  your  eyes  and  ears  open,  and  wire  after  us.  I  sup- 
pose it's  all  right  about  No.  12,"  he  shouted,  as  he  swung  on  the 
platform. 

The  station-agent's  voice  followed  them  out  into  the  night. 

"  She's  coming  along  all  right.  Suppose  you'll  meet  her  at  the 
Gap.     She's  due  there  at  three  ten." 

"  Due  there  in  five  minutes,"  thought  Mr.  Gray  to  himself,  as  he 
meditatively  puffed  at  his  fine  havana,  "  and  by  good  rights  I  should 
have  been  sleeping  the  sleepof  the  just  and  innocent  hours  ago."  The 
train  soon  seemed  hiboring  in  a  heavy  sea.  The  hoarse  panting  of  the 
engine  came  throbbing  back  on  the  night.  The  huge  Pullman  rolled 
deep,  first  to  one  side  awhile,  then  to  the  other,  as  it  trailed  on  around 
the  sharp  reverse  curves  of  some  unseen  grade.  Out  of  the  darkness 
to  the  right  and  against  the  northern  stars  loomed  up  dim,  bulky 
shapes,  and  Gray  realized  that  the  foot-hills  were  reached,  that  the 
long  tortuous  climb  was  beginning.  Up,  up,  higher  and  higher 
steamed  the  straining  giant  in  the  lead,  the  dense  smoke-clouds  rolling 
rearward  lighted  brilliantly  every  few  seconds  by  the  glare  from  the 
roaring  furnace  into  which  Scut's  shovel  was  heaping  coal  by  the 
bushel.  No.  783  was  doing  her  best,  as  Long  predicted,  but  even  her 
superb  lungs  and  tempered  muscles  could  barely  drag  so  heavy  a 
burden.  Only  nine  or  ten  miles  an  hour  was  she  making  now,  thought 
Gray,  as  once  more  the  sleeper  door  was  opened,  and  the  conductor, 
followed  by  a  brakeman,  bustled  in.  He  glared  suspiciously  into  the 
dim  recess  of  the  smoking-compartment,  the  brakeman  peering  over 
his  shoulder. 

"Ain't  you  going  to  bed  to-night?"  he  asked. 

"  Presently,"  yawned  Gray,  "  if  I  get  sleepy." 

"Your  friend  there  in  the  other  car  hasn't  lost  much  time.  He's 
snoring  like  he  hadn't  slept  for  six  weeks.  Where'd  he  say  he 
lived?" 

"  Pawnee." 

"Know  him — there?" 


462  RAVS  RECRUIT. 

"  No,  nor  anybody  else." 

"  Never  been  out  here  before  ?" 

Gray  was  in  no  mood  for  talk,  much  less  for  cross-examination. 
He  shrugged  his  broad  shoulders  impatiently.     "Never." 

The  conductor  hesitated,  looked  long  and  fixedly  at  his  passenger, 
studying  what  he  could  see  of  his  face,  figure,  and  clothes  in  that  dim 
light.     He  turned  half  reluctantly  away,  then  turned  back. 

"  Well,  if  you  want  any  sleep  before  we  get  to  Butte  you'd  better 
be  getting  it,"  said  he,  with  that  broad  freedom  of  manner  and  absence 
of  conventional  restraint  begotten  of  years  in  the  boundless  West,  and 
then  stood  awaiting  the  result. 

It  came,  not  too  soothingly  or  satisfactorily. 

"  When  I  want  it,  I'll  take  it." 

The  conductor  drew  away  with  distinct  sense  of  another  defeat. 
He  stirred  up  the  porter  with  no  gentle  touch.  "  How  many  of  your 
passengers  have  got  guns?"  he  asked. 

The  negro  started  from  his  seat,  dazed  and  frightened.  "  Only 
two  or  three  of  'em,  that  I  see,"  was  the  answer.  "  That  officer  in 
lower  3,  and  two  gentlemen  in  8  and  9.     What's  the  matter?" 

"  Nothing  as  yet,  but  I've  a  good  mind  to  wake  the  lieutenant," 
said  Jarvis,  his  fingers  working  nervously,  as  he  glanced  about  the  car. 
The  porter's  eyes  were  big,  his  eyeballs  staring. 

"  Wait  till  I  come  back,"  said  Mr.  Jarvis,  presently,  and  let  him- 
self out  at  the  rear  door.  The  last  sleeper  was  dark  and  silent. 
Every  curtain  seemed  drawn.  Jarvis  found  his  bunch  of  keys,  and 
after  a  few  seconds'  fumble  opened  the  door.  The  air  within  was  close, 
almost  stifling,  for  every  section  was  occupied.  He  found  the  port<er 
snoring  in  the  smoking-room,  stirred  him  vigorously,  and  propounded 
rapid  questions.  The  bewildered  darky  answered  to  the  point.  Some 
of  the  young  men  among  his  excursionists  might  have  pistols  in  their 
grips,  but  he'd  only  seen  one  in  a  hip  pocket.  There  were  ten  ladies 
and  twelve  men,  he  said,  all  unconscious  of  danger  of  any  kind,  and, 
as  it  was  a  chartered  car  and  they  were  out  for  a  long  pleasure-trip, 
no  doubt  there  was  plenty  of  money,  to  say  nothing  of  watches  and 
jewelry,  in  the  party.  It  was  the  first  of  the  kind  that  had  come  up 
the  road  for  a  month.  Jarvis  knew  it  had  been  well  advertised. 
What  more  likely  than  that  the  daring  fellows  who  had  made  things 
lively  on  the  other  road  should  have  planned  to  hold  up  this  particular 
train  ?  What  better  place  could  they  select  than  the  lonely,  rugged, 
almost  mountainous  tract  between  Thunder  Gap  and  Boulder  Creek  ? 
And  if  they  weren't  already  boarding  his  train,  one  or  two  at  a  time, 
just  as  they  did  on  the  K.  P.,  then  call  him  a  Chinaman.  That 
swagger  and  stylish  young  man  at  the  Junction,  "salooning  the 
soldiers  and  making  himself  solid  with  them,"  the  shivering  tramp  at 
Willow  Springs  who  was  so  promptly  found  and  so  lavishly  paid  for 
and  provided  for  by  the  same  suspicious  party  ("  Fancy  his  enlisting !" 
thought  the  conductor:  "that  cock-and-bull  story  that  he  told  Long 
was  enough  to  damn  him  from  the  start"),  and  now  these  two  cowboys 
in  the  smoker, — fellows  that  took  sii|)per  and  left  their  plugs  at 
Hank's  and  said  they  were  going  up  to  Pawnee  for  a  flyer,  but  allowed 


RAY'S  RECRUIT.  463 

they  knew  nobody  there,  or  in  that  part  of  the  valley.     Jarvis  felt 
more  uneasy  with  every  minute. 

"  I'm  blessed  if  I  don't  think  I  ought  to  wake  some  of  the  likeliest 
of  these  young  fellows,"  said  he  to  the  porter;  "but  I'll  go  and  have 
out  the  lieutenant  anyhow." 

Suiting  action  to  the  word,  back  he  went  to  the  forward  sleeper. 
"  Wake  the  gentleman  in  No.  3,"  said  he  to  the  porter,  as  he  re-entered, 
and  found  that  dusky  guardian  eagerly,  anxiously  awaiting  him. 

"  He's  gittin'  up,  suh.  I  done  called  him."  And  at  the  moment, 
rubbing  a  pair  of  bleary,  sleepy,  red-rimmed  eyes  with  one  hand  and 
buttoning  a  cavalry  sack-coat  with  the  other,  a  stocky,  heavily  built 
man  of  about  thirty-five  came  lurching  down  the  aisle.  Briefly  the 
conductor  told  his  suspicions  and  asked  what  help  he  could  have  in  case 
of  trouble.  The  cavalryman  was  evidently  a  trifle  hard  to  rouse.  He 
seemed  slow  of  comprehension.  He  pondered  a  bit,  looking  dumbly 
from  the  conductor  to  the  porter,  with  eyes  that  did  not  clear  as  rapidly 
as  they  should  have  done.     At  last  he  said, — 

"One  of  them  in  this  car?" 

"Yes,  smoking  in  the  compartment  yonder." 

Following  the  conductor,  the  officer  meandered  up  the  aisle.  The 
Pullman  was  swaying  violently  now.  The  train  had  reached  the 
summit  of  the  divide  and  was  rushing  down  the  westward  slope  at  a 
speed  that  became  swifter  every  moment.  The  lieutenant  stopped  at 
his  berth  and  rummaged  under  a  pillow. 

"You're  not  getting  a  gun  now?"  whispered  the  conductor,  Avarn- 
ingly. 

"  No, — only  a  pocket  pistol,"  was  the  answer,  as  the  blue  blouse 
straightened  up  and  produced  a  half-filled  flask. 

"  I  wish  your  men,  those  recruits,  had  arms,"  muttered  the  con- 
ductor, as  they  went  on  again.  Then  he  held  up  a  warning  hand. 
They  were  just  squeezing  through  the  narrow  ])assage  between  the 
smoking-coinpartnient  and  the  side  of  the  car.  "  Wait  till  I  see  what 
he's  doing,"  said  Jarvis,  and  disapjieared  around  the  corner.  Presently 
he  beckoned,  and,  flask  in  hand,  the  lieutenant  followed  on,  glancing 
casually  at  the  dim  form  near  the  window,  stepped  to  the  wash-stand 
and  found  a  tumbler,  half  filled  it  with  liquor,  and  proffered  it  to  the 
conductor,  who  shook  his  head.  The  soldier  poured  in  a  little  water, 
and  swallowed  it  all  at  a  gulp. 

"  Now,"  said  he,  "  let's  have  a  look  at  your  man." 

The  conductor  stepped  inside  the  smoker,  feigning  to  try  to  de- 
cipher the  writing  on  a  card  he  held  in  his  hand,  but,  as  though  the 
light  were  too  dim,  reached  u)>  and  turned  higher  the  flame,  brightly 
illuminating  the  little  compartment  in  a  moment.  Gray  may  have 
been  dozing.  He  glanced  quickly  up,  as  though  startled,  and  his  eyes 
met  those  of  the  stout  man  in  cavalry  uniform.  For  a  moment  they 
looked  at  each  other,  searchingly  and  without  a  word.  A  flush  as  of 
surprise  and  annoyance  began  to  mount  to  the  civilian's  face;  a  flush 
that  was  not  of  surprise  was  already  manifest  on  that  of  the  soldier. 
The  conductor  glanced  from  one  to  the  other  as  though  about  to  speak. 

Suddenly  the  night  was  rent  by  one  sharp,  quick,  almost  agonized 


464  RAV'S  RECRUIT. 

shriek  from  the  engine,  far  ahead.  Suddenly,  so  suddenly  that  it  almost 
hurled  Jarvis  and  the  lieutenant  off  their  feet,  the  air-brakes  gripped 
like  a  vice,  the  whizzing  wheels  instantly  checking  their  way,  the 
smooth,  swift  motion  changed  to  a  jerky,  grinding,  straining  series  of 
bumps.  Jarvis,  turning  white  as  a  sheet,  sprang  to  the  door  the  instant 
he  could  recover  balance.  For  six,  eight  seconds  the  Pullman  went 
thumping  ahead,  slower  and  slower  every  second,  yet  still  at  dangerous 
speed.  Then  came  a  thunderous  shock  and  crash.  Gray,  whose  feet 
were  on  the  opposite  seat,  doubled  up  like  a  jack-knife,  his  nose  and 
knees  jammed  together,  the  back  seat  clamped  tight  against  that  in 
front.  The  lieutenant  shot  forward  out  of  sight,  and  was  overheard 
fetching  up  with  a  resounding  thump  against  the  front  door.  There 
was  a  crackling  of  window-glass,  a  sound  of  stifled  shrieks  and  groans. 
The  big  car  recoiled  some  thirty  or  forty  yards,  then  came  to  a  stand- 
still, and  Mr.  Gray,  scrambling  out  from  the  smoking-compartment, 
nearly  stumbled  over  the  prostrate  officer,  who  was  slowly  finding  his 
feet.  But,  following  some  half-articulate  cry  for  help,  Gray  darted 
through  the  narrow  passage-way,  into  the  curtained  aisle,  now  rapidly 
filling  with  men,  much  more  dazed  than  dressed,  some  of  them  bleeding 
from  contusions,  all  of  them  shaken  and  scared,  and,  slowly  sliding  out 
of  the  nearest  berth,  came  a  blue-robed,  slender,  senseless  form, — that 
of  the  soft- voiced  occupant  who  half  an  hour  earlier  had  importuned 
him  for  water.  In  an  instant  Gray  stooped,  raised  her  in  his  arms, 
bore  her  through  the  passage,  nearly  capsizing  the  lieutenant  the  second 
time,  laid  her  flat  upon  the  long  seat  in  the  smoker,  and  applied  his 
fine  cambric  handkerchief  to  a  gash  in  the  left  temple,  from  which  the 
blood  was  oozing. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

A  MELANCHOLY  scene  of  wreck  and  disaster  was  that  which  greeted 
the  eyes  of  Mr.  Gray  when  perhaps  half  an  hour  later  he  stepped  from 
the  platform  and  made  his  way  forward.  Through  some  strange 
neglect  of  telegraphic  orders  from  Butte,  the  conductor  and  engineer 
of  No.  12  had  not  been  bidden  to  side-track  at  Thunder  Gap,  but 
had  been  sent  spinning  on  their  way  down  grade  five  miles  to  Alkali 
Flats,  where  the  road  crossed  to  the  northeast  and  began  to  climb  over 
the  divide  to  Boulder  Creek,  and  right  here,  at  the  end  of  a  straight- 
away mile  of  track,  the  head-light  of  the  Pacific  express  flashed  into 
view.  Each  engineer  sighted  the  glaring  eye  of  the  other's  steed  at 
the  same  instant.  Each  sounded  his  warning  cry.  Each  instantly  re- 
versed his  lever,  reckless  of  cylinder-heads.  Long  had  vainly  sprung 
the  air-brake,  and  No.  12's  brakemen  had  spun  their  iron  wheels  for 
all  they  were  worth,  but  still,  with  the  fearful  momentum  of  their 
down-grade  rush,  the  two  trains  dashed  at  each  other  like  maddened 
bulls,  and  engineer  and  fireman,  having  done  all  that  mortal  men 
could  do,  jumped  for  their  lives  a  second  or  two  before  the  crash.  The 
lighter  train  of  the  two,  the  express,  had  so  far  slackened  speed  that 
Long  and  his  fireman,  landing  and  rolling  in  the  soft  sand,  were  but 


RAY'S  RECRUIT.  465 

slightly  hurt.  The  engineer  of  the  freight,  however,  was  tumbled 
heels  over  head,  and  then  knocked  senseless  by  a  flying  splinter.  The 
fireman  had  only  just  been  found  as  Gray  reached  the  point  where  the 
two  engines,  locked  deep  in  each  other's  embrace,  stood  welded  together, 
a  tangled  mass  of  metal.  The  whistle  of  one  of  them,  dislocated  by 
the  shock,  was  emitting  a  low,  moaning  sound,  as  of  some  huge 
beast  in  agony.  The  tender  of  the  express  had  telescoped  half  its 
length  through  the  mail-car,  and  the  postal  clerk  had  been  hauled  from 
under  a  confused  heap  of  coal  and  mail-sacks.  The  mail-car  in  turn 
had  smashed  in  the  front  of  the  express,  and  this,  forced  flat  against 
the  front  of  the  baggage-car,  left  the  messenger  a  helpless  prisoner 
within  his  own  premises,  unable  to  open  even  a  side  door.  How  the 
baggage-man  escaped  death  he  never  could  tell.  He  and  his  trunks 
were  hurled  to  the  front  end  of  the  car,  all  in  a  heap,  yet,  barring 
damages  to  clothing  and  cuticle,  he  was  little  the  worse  for  the  adven- 
ture. Then  came  the  car-load  of  recruits.  Hardly  a  man  of  their 
number  had  a  whole  skin  left.  The  seats  were  wrenched  loose,  the 
windows  were  shattered.  The  smoker,  too,  was  a  sight :  its  few  occu- 
pants had  been  hurled  about  promiscuously,  and  were  still  swearing 
when  Gray  got  to  the  front.  People  in  the  day-coach  were  less  damaged, 
but  equally  dazed,  and  in  the  two  Pullmans  consternation  reigned  su- 
preme. The  excursionists  were  all  sound  asleep  up  to  the  instant  of 
impact,  and  those  in  the  upper  berths  had  been  tumbled  into  the  aisle, 
and  all  the  car-load  violently  shaken.  But  in  the  forward  Pullman 
the  actual  damage  was  greater.  The  porter  was  groaning  with  a  twisted 
back.  Two  of  the  men  were  badly  wrenched.  Lieutenant  Rawson 
had  a  bump  as  big  as  a  grape-shot  on  the  side  of  his  head.  Mrs. 
Mainwaring,  though  uninjured,  was  so  terrified  as  to  be  worse  than 
helpless,  and  as  for  the  fair  girl  with  her,  she  had  happened  to  be 
awake,  had  lifted  herself  on  her  elbow  at  the  shriek  of  the  whistle, 
fearful  of  ill,  and  almost  instantly  had  been  dashed  against  the  edge 
of  the  seat  and  cruelly  stunned.  Of  the  freight  train,  the  six  cars 
immediately  behind  the  engine  were  crushed  to  fragments,  and  the 
fragments  hurled  far  and  wide.  It  was  from  under  a  heap  of  these 
they  lugged  the  fireman  as  Gray  appeared,  and  this  summed  up  the 
damage  to  person  and  material,  but  not  to  nerves,  tempers,  or  records 
for  piety.  The  language  of  Mr.  Jarvis  and  his  friend  of  the  freight 
train  beggared  description.  The  cavalry  sergeant  felt  an  access  of  en- 
vious respect  as  he  listened.  Lieutenant  Rawson  invited  both  to  have 
a  drink,  and  this  time  it  was  accepted. 

It  was  a  five-mile  stretch  up  to  the  Gap,  and  much  more  than  that 
back  to  Boulder,  but  news  of  the  mishap  had  to  be  sent  and  help  sum- 
moned. It  was  then  that  Gray's  shabby  tramp  had  come  to  the  fore. 
He  had  been  warmed,  fed,  and  rested,  as  he  had  not  been  for  a  week. 
He  was  used  to  walking,  he  said,  and  offered  to  carry  the  conductor's 
pencilled  despatch.  It  should  have  been  sent  by  a  brakeman  of  the 
freight,  but  both  were  lamed  and  badly  bruised.  Jarvis  looked  more 
than  uncertain  at  first,  but  finally  gave  the  man  the  important  paper. 
Twenty  minutes  later,  the  two  cowboys,  despite  bangs  and  bruises,  de- 
clared that  they  too  would  "  hoof  it,"  and  pushed  ahead  through  the 
Vol.  LIX.— 30 


466      .  RAV'S  RECRUIT. 

pallid  dawn.  Gray,  silent  and  observant,  appeared  just  as  they  de- 
parted, and  found  the  lieutenant,  the  two  conductors,  and  the  cavalry 
sergeant  in  a  quadrangular  council.  At  sight  of  the  new-comer  Jarvis 
cautioned  silence,  and  dissolved  the  meeting. 

The  girl  whom  Gray  had  so  promptly  and  tenderly  cared  for  had 
recovered  consciousness  within  five  minutes.  She  looked  up,  dazed 
and  startled,  into  the  strange  face  bending  over  her,  and  then  almost 
instantly  asked  for  Mrs.  Mainvvaring. 

"  She  is  unhurt,"  said  Gray,  quietly.  "  Don't  worry.  You  have 
quite  a  bruise  here  on  the  side  of  your  head.  Please  lie  still  until  I 
check  the  bleeding.     Mrs.  Mainwaring  will  be  back  in  a  moment." 

Mrs.  Mainwaring  had  been  there,  half  distracted,  wringing  her 
hands  and  laughing  and  crying  by  turns,  and  was  now  lying  in  her 
berth,  being  ministered  to  by  some  sympathetic  woman  from  the  other 
car.  Another  had  come  to  aid  Gray,  but,  seeing  how  deftly  he  bathed 
and  stanched  the  wound,  she  confined  her  attentions  to  wetting  towels 
and  passing  them  to  the  strange  gentleman.  So  skilful  were  his  min- 
istrations that  the  young  lady  presently  declared  herself  able  to  sit  up 
and  walk,  and  insisted  on  seeing  Mrs.  Mainwaring.  She  was  assisted 
to  her  feet,  and,  leaning  on  his  arm,  was  taken  to  her  friend.  Gray 
left  her  there,  slipped  quietly  away,  and  came  forth,  his  heart  beating 
with  odd  emotion. 

The  next  thing  he  found  to  do  was  to  help  straighten  out  the  fireman 
of  the  freight,  who  was  shaking  like  an  aspen,  completely  demoralized 
and  almost  crying.  He,  too,  had  struck  soft  sand  when  he  leaped 
from  the  train,  but  after  a  somersault  or  two  had  been  buried  under  an 
avalanche  of  splintered  board,  distributed  from  the  roofs,  sides,  and 
flooring  of  the  shattered  cars.  The  heavy  trucks,  wheels,  and  beams 
fortunately  had  not  been  hurled  more  than  a  dozen  yards  from  the 
track,  but  kindling-wood  in  distracting  quantities  had  been  showered 
far  and  near.  The  handsome  silver-topped  flask,  so  admired  of  the 
sergeant  at  the  Junction,  was  promptly  produced,  and  the  fireman  took 
a  long,  long  pull.  Then  Gray  bethought  him  of  his  tramp.  The 
recruits  and  passengers  mingling  in  confused  knot  with  the  damaged 
men  were  still  grouped  about  the  wreck,  some  detailing  personal  im- 
pressions and  experiences,  some  noisy  and  nervous,  others  silent  and 
doubtless  thankful  for  their  escape,  others  still  thinking  only  of  the 
injured.  Of  these  latter  was  Gray,  at  whom  the  conductor  was  scowl- 
ing suspiciously  the  while,  and  saying  something  in  a  low  tone  to  tiie 
lieutenant. 

"  Do  you  know  what  became  of  that  poor  fellow  we  picked  up  at 
Willow  Springs?"  asked  Gray  of  the  brakeman,  who  was  ruefully 
contemplating  a  ruined  lantern.  The  man  looked  up  instantly,  but,  in- 
stead of  answering,  turned  and  glanced  significantly  at  the  conductor. 

"  If  you  want  him,"  said  the  latter,  coolly,  "you'll  have  to  follow 
the  track  five  miles  or  more.  Perhaps  you  knew  the  two  that  went 
after  him.  Birds  of  a  feather,  I  take  it, — bound  for  the  Gap  and  a 
spree  on  what's  left  of  that  ten-dollar  bill." 

"  I'm  very  glad  to  hear  he  isn't  hurt,"  said  Gray.  "  You've  sent 
for  help,  I  presume?" 


RAV'S  RECRUIT.  467 

"I've  sent  a  message  by  that  tramp  friend  of  yours,  if  that's 
what  you  mean.  None  of  my  crew  or  the  freight  could  walk  a 
mile." 

All  this  time  Lieutenant  Rawson  stood  aloof,  his  forage-cap  pulled 
down  over  his  brows,  intently  eying  the  stylishly  dressed  man  in 
tweeds.  Gray  became  conscious  of  the  scrutiny,  and  it  annoyed  him. 
Of  the  passengers  in  the  day-coach  none  were  men  whom  he  would 
have  been  at  all  likely  to  meet  on  equal  terms  in  his  past.  Among 
those  of  the  forward  sleeper  only  two  or  three  appeared  to  be  men  of 
education  or  social  standing,  and  they  were  nursing  their  bruises  back 
in  the  lavatory.  The  young  fellows  of  the  rear  Pullman  were  laugh- 
ing and  chatting  noisily  together  as  they  rummaged  about  the  wreck. 
The  officer  was  the  one  man  aboard  the  train  whom  ordinarily  Gray 
would  have  felt  inclined  to  address.  But  while  the  uniform  and  the 
assurance  of  at  least  a  certain  social  standing  on  the  part  of  its  wearer 
attracted  him,  there  was  that  in  Rawson's  face  which  repelled.  Nor 
was  this  wholly  due  to  the  fact  that  it  lacked  refinement  and  was  a 
trifle  bloated, — that  the  eyes  were  somewhat  dull  and  clouded  ;  but  in 
them  Gray  read  unerringly  an  expression  of  distrust,  even  of  hostility, 
and  the  pugnacious  in  him  was  aroused  at  once. 

All  of  a  sudden  he  recalled  that  the  porter  had  told  him  Mrs. 
Mainwaring  was  an  army  lady;  so,  doubtless,  was  the  young  lady 
with  her.  Very  possibly  the  lieutenant  was  their  escort,  and  the 
escort  was  wrathful  over  his  usurpation  of  an  escort's  functions,  so  far 
as  the  damsel  was  concerned.  Gray  could  not  remember  the  officer's 
busying  himself  in  any  way  to  aid  Mrs.  Mainwaring.  True,  he  was 
still  half  stunned,  and  was  bathing  his  bruises,  while  Gray  was  caring 
for  the  very  attractive  if  somewhat  dishevelled  girl  in  tlie  pale-blue 
wrapper.  Something  in  the  contemplation  of  his  loneliness  and  isola- 
tion during  the  earlier  night — a  man  without  a  home,  the  would-be 
sharer  of  the  fireman's  seat,  the  companion  of  the  rude  soldiery,  the 
aider  and  abettor  of  tramps — and  the  exaltation  of  his  present,  tickled 
his  sense  of  the  humorous.  Had  he  not  won  the  gratitude,  the  almost 
effusive  thanks,  of  Mrs.  Mainwaring,  the  eloquent,  if  silent,  recognition 
of  a  very  pretty  girl,  and  now  the  undoubted  jealousy  and  dislike  of 
an  army  officer?  "There's  some  fun  left  in  life,  even  now,"  was  his 
grim  comment,  as  he  calmly  studied  Rawson's  reddening  face,  gazing 
speculatively  into  the  latter's  shifting  eyes  until  uneasily  they  turned 
away. 

The  gray  dawn  was  sheeting  the  slopes  about  them,  and  farther  to 
the  west  the  mountain-tops  loomed,  dim,  })allid,  and  white  with  snow. 
Fine,  soft  flakes  were  sifting  down  even  here,  and  Long's  prediction 
was  being  verified.  That  faithful  soldier  of  his  country  and  "the 
Road"  was  now  stretched  on  the  flat  of  his  back  on  the  floor  of  the 
baggage-car,  with  some  car-seats  for  mattress,  pluckily  stifling  the 
moan  of  pain  that  would  have  forced  itself  through  his  set  teeth.  To 
him  came  the  younger  soldier,  the  sergeant,  full  of  sympathy. 

"You're  badly  shaken,  Mr.  Long:  wouldn't  a  little  whiskey  help 
you?"  said  he,  the  cavalry  cure-all  of  the  old  days  most  naturally 
suggesting  itself. 


468  RAY'S  RECRUIT. 

"I  don't  know  but  what  it  would,"  groaued  the  engineer.  "The 
lieutenant  has  some,  hasn't  he?" 

"  Yes,  he  has,"  was  the  half-hesitant  reply.  Then  the  freemasonry 
of  the  craft  seemed  to  show  in  the  look  that  followed,  half  comical, 
half  confiding,  but  all  significant.  "  But — he  ain't  the  sort  of  man 
I'd  ask  for  anything.  'Tain't  like  as  if  it  was  Captain  Ray  or  Blake 
or  Truscott  or  any  of  them  was  here,  you  know.  But — I  can  find  you 
some  all  right." 

And,  jumping  from  the  car,  Sergeant  Kearney  went  straight  to 
Mr.  Gray.  "  Our  engineer,  sir,"  said  he,  "  is  badly  stove  up.  Could 
you  oblige  me  with  a  little  whiskey?" 

"  Certainly,"  said  Gray,  going  down  into  his  pocket  and  fishing  up 
the  silver-topped  flask.  "  Give  him  a  good  swig,  and,  sergeant,  help 
yourself." 

The  sergeant  grinned,  thanked  him,  hurried  back  to  his  new  friend, 
and  gave  him  what  he  called  an  honest  cavalry  four  fingers. 

"  God  !"  said  Long,  smacking  his  lips,  his  eyes  snapping.  "  That 
was  an  old-timer."  Then,  as  the  potent  liquor,  long  a  stranger  to  his 
once  casehardened  system,  began  glowingly  to  assert  itself,  he  blinked 
his  gratitude  and  looked  admiringly  at  the  handsome  flask.  "  That's 
a  swell  stopper  you've  got  to  that  canteen,  sergeant.  Where'd  you 
capture  it?" 

"  Tall  young  fellow  in  the  first  sleeper.  Seems  to  have  money  and 
whiskey,  cigars  and  good  nature,  till  you  can't  rest,"  said  Kearney,  in 
the  vernacular  of  the  day,  and  was  surprised  at  Long's  sudden  interest. 
The  engineer  braced  himself  up  on  an  elbow,  all  eagerness. 

"  Smooth  face,  with  light  moustache,  regular  six-footer,  slim,  broad- 
shouldered,  travelling-cap  and  big  ulster?" 

"  That's  the  feller.     Treated  half  my  squad  to  pie  and  coffee  back 

there  at  the  Junction.     No  end  of  a  swell,  I Why,  what's  amiss  ? 

Say,  I  wouldn't  take  another  drink  just  now,  would  you?"  he  broke 
off,  anxiously,  for  Long  was  reaching  for  the  flask. 

"  I  want  to  see  the  monogram,  or  whatever  you  call  it,  on  that 
silver  stopper.  D'ye  know  what  I  think  of  that  feller?  He's  first- 
cousin  or  twin  brother  to  the  foxiest  gang  of  bank-  and  train-robbers 
in  the  whole  country,  and  if  we  hadn't  run  over  or  run  our  nose  slap 
into  No.  12  right  here  at  Alkali  Flats,  I'm  betting  my  bottom  dollar 
Ave'd  have  found  his  gang  waiting  for  us  back  of  Thunder  Gap." 

Kearney  drcM^  back,  startled.  Long  had  seized  the  flask,  and  was 
studying  the  stopper  with  keen  interest.  No  wonder  he  couldn't 
decipher  it.  There  was  no  monogram.  Instead  there  was  a  queer- 
shaped  shield  with  diagonal  lines  and  odd  little  figures,  like  tiny 
leaves,  cut  on  the  surface,  and  above  it  was  the  paw  of  an  animal 
grasping  a  dagger,  and  there  was  a  scroll  with  some  words  in  a  foreign 
tongue.  Long  knew  not  what.  He  searched  the  cuj)  of  silver  that 
fitted  on  the  base,  but  that  was  smooth  and  polished.  The  red  Russia 
leather  covering  also  bore  no  mark. 

"That  don't  look  like  a  train-robber,"  said  Kearney,  pointing  to 
the  device  on  the  top  of  the  stopper.  "  Ain't  that  what  you  call  a 
coat  of  arms,  or  something?" 


BAV'S  RECRUIT.  4g9 

"  Exactly ;  and  what's  an  American  doing  with  a  coat  of  arms  ? 
He's  lifted  it  from  some  dook  or  other,  touring  through  the  West  for 
buffalo  and  Indians.  He's  a  slick  one,  sergeant,  but  he  can't  fool  me. 
Why,  he  just  gave  himself  dead  away  when  he  told  me  he  wanted  to 
ride  up  with  me  and  Scut  in  the  cab,  pretending  he  was  out  here  to 
enlist  in  the  cavalry  and  wanted  to  talk  with  me  about  the  officers  that 
were  coming  there  to  Ransom.  Yes,  sir."  And  Long  grinned  sar- 
donically, despite  his  pain. 

Kearney's  answer  was  a  long  whistle  of  amazement. 

"  You'd  never  have  got  me  to  believe  it  if  he  hadn't  made  that 
break.  Fancy  a  swell  like  him  a-grooming  horses  and  cleaning  out 
stalls.  Hush,"  suddenly  lowering  his  voice,  for  at  the  instant  Mr. 
Gray  came  briskly  into  the  car. 

The  dawn  was  so  far  advanced  that  the  night-lights  were  no  longer 
needed  and  were  burning  blear  and  dim.  The  battered  baggage-man, 
in  no  pleasant  humor,  because  an  excursionist  from  the  rear  Pullman, 
with  ill-timed  jocularity,  had  asked  him  how  he  liked  the  taste  of  his 
own  medicine,  was  muttering  profane  comment  on  excursionists  in 
general  and  this  one  in  particular,  as  he  took  down  the  nearest  lamp 
and  extinguished  it.  Gray's  tall  figure,  bereft  now  of  the  ulster,  was 
outlined  against  the  brighter  light  at  the  rear  door  as  he  entered,  and 
Long  turned  his  head  and  stared  at  him  curiously.  For  a  moment, 
coming  as  he  did  from  the  outer  air  where  it  was  now  almost  broad 
daylight,  though  the  sun  was  not  yet  peeping  over  the  eastern  horizon, 
the  new-comer  was  not  quite  sure  whether  the  dark  object  on  the  floor 
was  or  was  not  the  engineer,  but  he  spoke  cheerily. 

'^  I'm  looking  for  Mr.  Long,"  he  said.  "  I  hear  he's  badly 
wrenched.     Ah,  there  you  are.     How  are  you  feeling  ?" 

"  As  well  as  a  man  can  who's  turned  half  a  dozen  somersaults  in 
the  mud.     You  can  thank  God  you  didn't  get  aboard  the  cab." 

"  I  can  indeed,"  laughed  Gray.  "  I've  never  practised  mounting 
and  dismounting  at  a  gallop  from  a  locomotive,  though  I've  tried  it 
often  enough  from  my  horse." 

Mr.  Long  winked  expressively  at  Kearney,  as  though  he  would  say, 
"Now  watch  out  for  a  lie,"  and  promptly  popped  the  question. 

"  So  you  thought  you'd  join  the  cavalry  on  that  account,  did  you  ?" 

And,  to  the  amazement  of  Sergeant  Kearney  and  the  incredulous 
disdain  of  Mr.  Long,  the  calm  reply  was,  "  That's  what  I'm  going  to 
Butte  for.  I  expect  to  be  at  squad  drill  in  a  day  or  two.  Possibly 
the  sergeant  here  will  be  giving  me  my  setting  up,"  said  he,  turning 
frankly  and  smilingly  to  Kearney. 

"  You  talk  as  though  you  knew  the  drill  already,  sir,"  said  the  ser- 
geant, still  unable  to  credit  the  statement,  yet  powerless  against  the  gay, 
frank  good  humor  of  the  civilian;  "and  it  isn't  the  likes  of  you  that 
generally  take  a  blanket." 

"  Oh,  I  used  to  shoulder  arms  in  the  militia,"  laughed  Gray,  "  and 
do  the  four  exercises,  but  I'm  green  as  any  recruit  in  your  party,  as 
you'll  probably  find  out,  if  you're  going  to  Ransom." 

Kearney  looked  at  Long,  and  Long  glared  at  Kearney.  This  was 
simply  too  brazen  a  fraud  for  the  engineer's  patience. 


470  RAY'S  RECRUIT. 

"  Do  you  raeau  to  tell  me  a  man  who  wears  clothes  like  them  and 
carries  a  flask  like  this  can't  find  any  easier  way  of  making  a  living  ?" 
said  he. 

"  Positive  fact,"  laughed  Gray,  debonair  as  before.  "  I'm  at  the 
end  of  my  tether,  or  soon  will  be,  and  I've  come  all  the  way  out  here 
for  no  other  purpose." 

"  Why  didn't  you  save  your  money  and  'list  in  the  East,  where 
you  came  from?"  asked  Long,  prodding  Kearney  with  his  toe  to  call 
attention  to  his  astuteness. 

"  For  the  simplest  of  reasons.  Had  I  enlisted  there  they  might 
have  sent  me  to  any  regiment,  whereas  I  wanted  a  particular  one, — 
the  — th,  in  fact." 

Long  had  lost  another  point,  but  rallied.  His  tone  was  gruff  as 
Mainwaring's  as  he  returned  to  the  attack :  "  One  would  suppose  a 
feller — a  man  like  you  could  command  influence  enough  to  get  assigned 
to  any  regiment  he  wanted.     That  ain't  much  of  a  trick." 

"  No,"  answered  Gray,  as  he  seated  himself  on  the  conductor's  big 
wooden  chest  and  carelessly  swung  his  slender  foot;  "no,  I  don't  be- 
lieve I've  got  either  friends  or  influence,  or  anything  in  the  wide  world, 
but — what  I've  got  on  and  what's  in  an  old  trunk  somewhere  along 
the  road  here." 

"Didn't  you  say  something  about  quitting  railroading  to  take  up 
soldiering?"  queried  Long,  so  astonished  that  he  was  forgetting  his 
pain. 

"  I  did.  Two  years  ago  I  did  some  railroading  at  the  general 
manager's  end  of  the  line.  So  you  see  how  little  I  must  have  known 
about  it.  Yes,"  he  went  on,  with  twinkling  eyes,  "  I  used  to  ride  my 
own  horse,  but  I've  lost  him,  so  it's  got  to  be  one  of  Uncle  Sam's." 

For  a  moment  nothing  further  was  said.  A  pair  of  frank  blue 
eyes  were  gazing  smilingly  down  into  the  engineer's  face,  and  that  ex- 
trooper  could  find  no  excuse  for  another  expression  of  doubt.  Slowly 
he  held  forth  the  half-emptied  flask. 

"  Here,"  said  he,  "  take  this.  I'm  damned  if  you're  not  too  many 
for  me.  But,"  a  sudden  thought  striking  him,  "  why  don't  you  sell 
this  and  your  watch  and  them  clothes  and  go  to  the  mines  and  make  a 
stake  there?" 

"  Because  I'd  rather  soldier,  man,"  was  the  smiling  answer, — Gray's 
good  humor  was  indomitable, — "  and  down  in  the  bottom  of  your 
heart  you  know  perfectly  well  you  never  see  the  uniform,"  and  here  he 
laid  a  hand  on  Kearney's  shoulder,  "  that  you  don't  more  than  half 
wish  you  were  in  it  again  and  riding  the  trail  or  the  prairie  rather  than  the 
iron  track.  I  don't  have  to  sell  anything  yet,"  he  added,  with  almost 
a  laugh.  "Keep  the  whiskey,  Mr.  Long.  You've  more  need  of  it 
than  I  have.  I'll  see  you  again  after  a  while."  And  with  that  he 
rose,  and,  nodding  smilingly  to  Kearney,  sauntered  from  the  car. 

"Well,  if  that's  a  train-robber,"  said  the  latter,  as  he  reached  and 
took  the  flask  from  Long's  unresisting  hand,  "  here's" — the  top  came 
off  and  the  flask  was  lifted  to  his  lips — "  here's  long  life  to  him." 

Late  that  morning  the  relief  train  came  down  from  Pawnee,  the 
East-bound  express  at  its  heels.     Passengers  and  baggage  were  labo- 


RAVS  RECRUIT.  471 

riously  transferred  from  one  train  to  the  other  around  the  scene  of  the 
wreck.  Mr.  Long,  bidding  mournful  adieu  to  No.  783,  asked  Sergeant 
Kearney  to  see  that  the  now  empty  flask  was  returned  to  the  tall  feller 
that  talked  of  enlisting.  "He  may  talk  till  hell  freezes  over,"  said 
Long,  "  but  not  till  I  see  him  in  uniform  will  I  believe  he  isn't  lying, 
and  even  then  I'll  misdoubt  him  for  a  reformed  train-robber  or  an 
escaped  lunatic." 

But  of  this  and  other  unflattering  comments  Mr.  Gray  was  uncon- 
scious. By  eight  o'clock  some  railway-men  arrived  from  the  Gap  on 
a  hand-car,  proving  that  the  suspected  tramp  had  at  least  delivered  his 
despatches.  People  were  getting  hungry  by  that  time,  and  it  presently 
transpired  that  "  the  tall  gent"  in  the  first  sleeper  was  going  back  with 
the  hand-car  to  see  what  he  could  buy  and  send  to  them,  as  it  would  be 
noon  perhaps  before  the  wrecking-train,  etc.,  could  come.  Then  the 
porter  addressed  Mr.  Gray  with  a  message.  Mrs.  Mainwaring  begged 
to  see  the  gentleman  before  he  started. 

She  was  calm  and  collected  now,  and  evidently  ashamed  of  the 
trouble  she  had  given.  The  young  lady  was  seated  by  an  open  window, 
languidly  drinking  in  the  fresh  air,  a  silken  handkerchief  bound  about 
her  head. 

"  We  are  so  very  much  indebted  to  you,"  said  the  matron,  rising  at 
the  entrance  of  the  young  man,  "  and  both  my  niece.  Miss  Leroy,  and  I 
wished  to  thank  you  before  we  parted.  I  am  Mrs.  Mainwaring,  and 
ray  husband,  Major  Mainwaring,  whom  I  expect  to  meet  to-day,  will 
be  glad  to  add  his  thanks  to  mine,  if  you  will  kindly  give  me  your 
address." 

"  I  assure  you  the  thanks  are  unnecessary.  I  am  only  too  happy 
to  have  been  of  the  faintest  service.  I  am  awfully  clumsy,  I  fear," 
said  Gray,  smiling,  as  his  eyes  wandered  to  Miss  Leroy's  face.  She 
was  leaning  forward  now  and  extending  the  pretty  white  hand  he  had 
so  admired  much  earlier  that  morning. 

"And  I  want  to  say,  yet  I  don't  know  how  to  say,  how  very  much 

I  thank  you,"  she  murmured,  her  words  falling  hesitatingly,  "and 

Pray,  do  not  think  me  impertinent,  but  did  I  not  see  you — were  you 
not  on  the  Rhine  last  May  ?" 

His  whole  manner  seemed  to  change  instantly.  Quiet  good  humor 
and  courtesy  gave  place  to  embarrassment,  even  awkwardness. 

"It  was — possibly  a  brother  of  mine,"  he  faltered.  "  I — I  hope 
you'll  have  a  very  pleasant  journey.     Such   ill   luck   thus  far,  you 

know "      He    barely    touched    the   extended    hand.      "  Good-by. 

Good-by,  Mrs,  Mainwaring.     They — they're  waiting  for  me  with  that 
hand-car."     And  in  an  instant  he  was  hastening  away. 

"  But  you  haven't  told  us  your  name  or  your  address,"  persisted 
the  elder  lady. 

"  Oh,  it's  of  no  consequence. — You  remember  Mr.  Toots,  don't 
you  ?"  he  called  back  over  his  shoulder,  as  he  made  his  escape  from  the 
car.  But  on  the  platform  without  the  flitting  smile  vanished,  and  his 
face  grew  gray  and  sad,  as  he  stopped  and  took  a  long,  long  breath. 

"  Lesson  number  one,  and  a  tough  one,  Darcy,  my  boy,"  he  panted. 
"  My  God,  what  is  my  name  to  be  now  ?" 


472  RAr'i>   RECRUIT. 


CHAPTER    V. 


The  — th  had  been  having  what  Captain  Ray  called  a  "  poky" 
time  most  of  that  year,  and  when  Ray's  usually  sunny  nature  clouded 
over  something  was  sure  to  be  amiss  with  the  professional  side  of  the 
man.  His  domestic  side  was  perennial  joy.  The  regiment  had  known 
many  a  hard  winter,  many  a  fierce  summer,  many  a  sharp  campaign 
and  savage  battle.  Its  long  exile  in  Arizona  in  the  old  days  was  full 
of  peril  and  suffering.  Its  sometimes  desperate  encounters  with  the 
red  warriors  of  the  northern  plains  and  mountains  had  made  sad  in- 
roads on  its  membership.  Its  records  of  casualties  embraced  every 
conceivable  catastrophe  :  death  by  sunstroke,  starvation,  freezing,  light- 
ning, flood,  fire,  rattlesnakes,  explosions,  thirst,  arrow  and  tomahawk, 
shot,  sabre,  and  shell.  A  peaceful  year  it  never  knew  from  the  day 
of  its  first  muster  on  the  plains  of  Texas  until  a  quarter-century  after, 
when,  mirabile  dictu,  there  hadn't  even  been  a  horse-thief  to  follow  or 
an  Indian  to  chase  until,  late  in  the  summer,  it  occurred  to  a  band 
of  Cheyennes  to  ride  northward  and  call  on  some  kindred  up  in  the 
Powder  River  country,  and  these  children  of  nature  never  thought  of 
asking  anybody's  leave.  The  — th  had  been  having,  as  Ray  said,  so 
poky  a  time  at  Russell — just  drilling,drilling,  drilling  on  that  wide  sweep 
of  upland  prairie,  instead  of  scouting  and  fighting  through  the  mountains, 
their  normal  summer  recreation — that  the  regiment  shouted  for  very 
joy  when  it  heard  that  Sharp-Knife,  the  young  Hotspur  that  headed 
the  raid,  had  soundly  thrashed  the  first  detachment  sent  to  head  him 
off,  and,  indignant  at  the  discourtesy  of  the  Great  Father  in  essaying 
to  curb  his  inclination  to  roam,  was  helping  himself  to  all  the  horned 
cattle,  horses,  and  household  goods  that  lay  in  his  way,  not  to  mention 
a  few  of  the  households,  and  was  careering  onward  bound  for  a  big 
time  in  the  Big  Horn  Mountains,  bragging  to  the  Northern  Cheyennes 
of  the  fun  he  had  had. 

Then  away  went  Colonel  Atherton,  with  Stannard  and  Mainwaring, 
the  old  and  the  new  majors,  and  eight  "  husky"  troops,  full  tilt  for  the 
Hills,  only  to  find  when  they  reached  the  broad  valley  of  the  Ska  that 
Sharp-Knife  and  his  shifty  followers  had  crossed  forty-eight  hours 
ahead  and  were  circling  westward  across  the  Little  Missouri  by  that 
time.  Never  is  a  stern  chase  so  long  a  chase  as  when  the  Indian  has 
the  lead.  The  department  commander  followed  by  rail,  stage-coach, 
and  buckboard,  and  half  the  troops  in  the  Territories  of  Dakota, 
Montana,  and  Wyoming  were  centring  on  the  Cheyennes,  when  Sharp- 
Knife  cut  loose  from  all  semblance  of  a  base  and  took  to  the  woods  in 
earnest.  His  people  scattered  to  the  four  winds.  Some  hid  among 
the  northern  bands  of  the  same  tribe,  some  slipped  in  among  the  Sioux 
at  the  great  reservations  in  Dakota,  others  scattered  far  and  wide, 
broke  up  into  little  squads  of  three  or  four  and  even  less,  and  jogged 
back  l)y  circuitous  routes  to  the  southern  })lains  and  swore  they'd  only 
l)een  hunting  along  the  Arkansas.  There's  only  one  creature  that  can 
beat  an  Indian, — murder  one  minute  and  look  the  image  of  piety  the 
next, — and  that's  a  cat.  It  wan  "  a  poky  sunmier,"  said  Ray,  at  Rus- 
sell.    It  was  poor  kind  of  campaigning,  said  that  same  authority,  but 


RAY'S   RECRUIT.  473 

better  than  noue.  It  was  the  move  that  followed  that  stirred  the 
social  fabric  of  the  — th  to  its  foundations.  The  regiment  had  been 
stationed  for  some  years  at  Russell,  a  big  post  on  the  Union  Pacific, 
but  the  department  commander  decided  that  he  wanted  Atherton  and 
his  seasoned  campaigners  closer  to  the  malcontents,  and,  to  the  un- 
speakable— not  speechless — indignation  of  nine- tenths  of  the  ladies  in 
the  — th  and  the  financial,  though  unconfessed,  comfort  of  many  of 
their  lords,  the  order  was  issued  that  it  should  not  return  to  Russell, 
but  direct  its  retrograde  march  on  the  older,  smaller,  but  just  now 
rather  more  important  post  of  Fort  Ransom. 

"  Squeeze  into  quarters  as  best  you  can,"  said  the  general,  cheer- 
fully, "  and  you  won't  mind  crowding  this  winter.  We'll  fit  you  out 
better  in  the  spring." 

Now,  the  winter  was  the  time  they  most  objected  to  being  crowded, 
for  then  they  had  their  friends  from  the  East  and  their  social  pleasures, 
did  these  dames  and  damsels  of  the  army,  while  in  summer  the  troops 
were  almost  always  afield,  and  the  women,  those  who  could  afford  it, 
went  East.  Few  had  done  so  this  year,  because  the  regiment  was  not 
sent  out  for  summer  camp,  and  when  the  Sharp-Knife  chase  was 
ordered  it  was  too  late  in  the  season. 

So  the  two  battalions,  then  so  called,  marched  in  to  Ransom. 
Then,  so  many  at  a  time,  the  officers  were  allowed  to  go  to  Russell  to 
supervise  the  packing  and  shipment  of  their  household  goods,  while 
the  quartermaster  and  other  sergeants  did  as  much  for  the  companies. 
Mrs.  Atherton,  with  her  lares  and  penates,  was  there  at  Butte  to 
welcome  the  regiment  when  it  arrived.  Mrs.  Mainwaring,  with  her 
fair  niece.  Miss  Leroy,  was  to  have  been  there,  but,  as  we  have  seen, 
became  involved  in  a  collision  in  the  mountain  division.  The  major 
hurried  eastward  to  meet  his  helpmate  at  Pawnee,  and  there  got  full 
details  of  the  crash,  and  sought  among  the  passengers  for  the  young 
man  in  the  ulster  and  travelling-cap  who  had  been  so  helpful  in  time 
of  need,  but  he  had  disappeared,  said  the  conductor  who  took  Mr. 
Jarvis's  load.  The  last  seen  of  him  he  was  taking  dinner  at  Ford's 
restaurant  with  a  couple  of  cowboys  and  a  dilapidated  party  who  had 
been  fellow-passengers  with  him  on  No.  3  at  the  time  of  the  wreck. 
Then  the  cowboys  had  gone  one  way  and  the  young  man  another. 
Sergeant  Kearney,  who  under  Lieutenant  Rawson  was  in  charge  of 
the  recruits,  said,  begging  the  new  major's  pardon,  that  the  conductor 
and  engineer  of  No.  3  were  sure  there  was  something  queer  about  that 
party.  It  was  believed  they  were  all  connected  with  a  gang  of  train- 
robbers.  Whereat  the  major  scoffed  until  Rawson  came  up  and  cor- 
roborated what  Kearney  had  said,  and  was  presented  by  the  major  to 
his  wife  and  Miss  Leroy,  who  were  not  over-cordial.  Women  learn 
so  much  more  about  their  fellow-passengers  in  the  course  of  a  few 
hours  than  do  men.  Then  the  major,  in  his  happy  way,  went  on  to 
chaff  the  wife  of  his  bosom  upon  her  having  nearly  captured  a  train- 
robber,  and  then  Miss  Leroy  spoke  her  mind.  She  didn't  believe  a 
word  of  it. 

At  Butte,  where  they  arrived  late  at  night,  while  the  major  was 
bustling  about  after  the  ambulance  and  baggage -wagons,  Mrs.  Main- 


474  EAV'S  RECRUIT. 

wariug,  sitting  at  an  open  window  and  gazing  out  at  the  flitting  lights 
on  the  platform  and  awaiting  the  summons  to  leave  the  car,  was  sud- 
denly attracted  by  the  sight  of  a  little  detachment  of  recruits  marching 
by.  The  young  lady,  too,  was  at  a  near  window,  and  the  sergeant, 
catching  a  glimpse  of  her  face,  remembered  the  conversation  he  had 
heard  at  Pawnee  and  her  prompt  defence  of  the  absent,  and  he  had 
felt  ill  at  ease  and  shame-stricken  ever  since.  What  right  had  he  to 
brand  a  man  as  a  criminal  on  tiie  mere  suspicion  of  some  railway  em- 
ployees? The  young  lady's  spirited  stand  in  defence  of  the  defamed 
had  astonished  the  major  and  delighted  Kearney.  A  sudden  thought 
struck  the  honest  trooper,  as  he  was  marching  by,  and,  springing 
quickly  to  the  side  of  the  car,  he  held  up  to  the  window  the  handsome 
silver-topped  flask.  "  I  beg  pardon,"  said  he,  "  but  this  belongs  to 
that  young  gentleman.  I  was  to  have  given  it  to  him,  but  I've  got  to 
return  to  St.  Louis  to  the  recruiting  depot,  and  he's  stopped  back  there 
about  Pawnee.  He  never  came  on  this  train  at  all,  but  he  declared  lie 
was  coming  up  to  Fort  Ransom  later.  Would  you  please  give  it  to 
him,  miss  ?" 

And,  before  she  knew  what  to  say,  the  sergeant  was  gone,  and  there 
she  sat  with  the  stranger's  flask  in  her  gloved  hand, — the  stranger 
whom  she  could  have  sworn  she  saw  at  Bonn  and  Cologne  not  four 
months  before, — who  thought  it  might  have  been  his  brother,  who 
wouldn't  give  his  name,  but  who  had  forgotten  the  handkerchief  with 
which  he  had  stanched  the  flow  of  blood  from  her  temple, — an  unsightly 
relic  at  the  moment,  to  be  sure,  but  safely  stowed  in  her  little  satchel 
for  all  that,  and  already  searched,  and  not  vainly,  for  a  trace  of  owner- 
ship.    Bathed  in  her  own  blood  were  the  letters  D.  H.  G. 

And  what  on  earth  she  was  to  do  with  that  handsome  flask  and 
that  once  more  presentable  handkerchief  was  a  problem  that  confronted 
Miss  Leroy  two  weeks  later,  after  she  had  begun  to  feel  reasonably  at 
home  at  Ransom.  It  was  the  queerest  phase  of  life  that  ever  she  had 
encountered.  City-bred,  convent-educated,  she  found  frontier  ways  at 
an  army  post  as  full  of.  novelty  and  sensation  as  her  first  explorations 
in  foreign  parts.  For  two  or  three  days  they  had  lived  at  the  hotel  in 
Butte  until  the  major  reported  the  carpets  down  and  the  stoves  up. 
The  next  two  or  three  were  devoted  to  unpacking  furniture,  pictures, 
glass,  and  crockery,  and  putting  everything  where  it  belonged  and 
much  where  it  didn't.  It  seemed  to  make  little  difference,  for  in  all 
these  functions,  at  all  hours  of  the  day,  and  not  a  few  of  the  night, 
the  young  officers,  in  shirt-sleeves  and  the  best  of  spirits,  bore  willing 
part.  Such  gay  good  humor,  such  utter  lack  of  stiffiiess  and  con- 
ventionality, she  had  never  seen.  All  drills  and  duties,  it  seemed, 
except  the  necessary  guard,  police,  and  stables,  were  suspended  until 
officers  and  men  were  comfortably  housed  and  settled  down.  The 
bachelor  lieutenants  ])itched  tents  on  the  parade  and  placidly  awaited 
their  turn  to  choose  quarters,  a  ceremony  which  impresse<l  Miss  Leroy 
as  something  incomprehensible.  It  was  not  easy  to  make  her  realize 
just  why  Captain  Ray  couldn't  move  Mrs.  Ray  and  the  baby  boys 
up  from  the  hotel  until  Captain  Freeman  had  chosen,  and  why  Mrs. 
Blake  should  remain  at  Cheyenne  near  her  own  old  home  until  the 


RAY'S  RECRUIT.  475 

Truscotts  and  Rays  had  settled  on  what  houses  they  would  take. 
(They  wanted  the  big  double  brick  next  but  one  to  the  colonel's,  but 
were  afraid  to  move  in,  lest  the  new  surgeon  ordered  out  from  Omaha 
should  take  a  fancy  to  that  very  set.)  It  was  all  plain  sailing,  as 
she  could  see,  for  the  colonel,  the  two  majors,  and  the  two  senior 
captains,  but  then  came  the  tug  of  war.  The  Greggs  had  moved 
into  No.  5,  confident  the  doctor  would  prefer  the  other  side  of  the 
garrison,  the  very  house  the  Truscotts  and  Rays  thought  to  occupy 
together,  but  the  doctor  came,  saw,  and  concluded  that  the  house  he 
and  Mrs.  Doctor  wanted  was  No.  5  and  no  other,  whereat  Mrs.  Gregg 
was  furious,  and  the  captain  philosophic.  *'  I  told  you  so,  M'riar,"  he 
was  unfeeling  enough  to  say  a  dozen  times  a  day,  until  she  flew  to  the 
Stannards  for  sympathy.  It  seemed  to  Miss  Leroy  that  whether  these 
families  got  settled  or  not  the  feuds  never  would  be;  and  yet  in  less 
than  ten  days  even  the  young  married  couples  were  snugly  stowed 
away.  Smiles  and  sunshine  met  her  on  every  side.  The  men,  who 
looked  like  hairy  monsters  at  first,  had  shaved  their  beards  and  donned 
their  neatly  fitting  uniforms.  The  band  played  every  afternoon. 
Parades  were  fine,  guard-mounting  "  lovely."  The  little  dinners  and 
suppers  and  dances  were  just  as  jolly,  friendly,  and  delightful  as  could 
possibly  be.  Many  of  the  young  matrons  were  charming  companions. 
Several  of  the  young  officers  danced  divinely,  all  of  them  rode  well, 
and  none  of  them  thought  anything  of  coming  banging  at  the  hall 
door  at  any  hour  of  the  day  to  ask  Mrs.  Main  waring  to  come  and  do 
this  or  Miss  Leroy  to  come  and  see  that.  The  ladies  ran  in  and  out 
from  house  to  house  as  though  it  were  one  big  family,  and  before  the 
10th  of  November  came  Miss  Leroy  found  herself  completely  carried 
away  by  the  life  and  swing  and  movement  that  seemed  to  characterize 
everything  that  went  on  in  the  old  regiment.  She  was  on  the 
pleasantest  of  terms  with  Mesdames  Ray,  Truscott,  and  Blake.  She 
found  her  aunt  tireless  as  a  hostess.  She  admired  the  colonel  and  his 
accomplished  wife.  She  "  took"  to  Mrs.  Stannard  from  the  start,  and 
wondered  why  Mrs.  Mainwaring  didn't  enthuse  over  her  as  everybody 
else  did.  She  liked  bluff  old  Stannard  and  most  of  the  officers 
thoroughly,  and  so,  blithe,  busy,  "on  the  go,"  as  they  said,  from  morn 
till  late  at  night,  she  had  well-nigh  cea'^ed  to  think  of  the  shock  she 
had  sustained  on  the  night  of  the  collision  or  to  speculate  about  the 
tall  young  gentleman  who  had  restored  her  to  consciousness  and  to 
whom  she  had  not  restored  the  handkerchief  and  flask,  when  the  10th 
of  November  came,  and  with  it  her  birthday,  a  new  sensation,  and  an 
excitement  at  the  fort. 

The  recruits  brought  to  Ransom  by  Lieutenant  Rawson  were  for 
distribution  to  those  troops  of  the  regiment  most  in  need  of  new  blood, 
and,  as  luck  would  have  it,  these  were  all  of  the  battalion  at  Fort 
Fred  Winthrop,  an  outlying  post  close  to  the  now  crowded  reserva- 
tion of  the  Sioux.  Thither  had  Atherton  ordered  Rawson  without 
delay  of  a  day,  partly  because  recruits  were  needed,  but  mainly  because 
the  lieutenant  showed  symptoms  of  an  oncoming  attack  of  a  bibulous 
character,  and  Atherton  would  have  none  of  that  in  his  garrison. 
Rawson  was  ordered    northward    forthwith,   and    marched    with  his 


476  RAF'S  RECRUIT. 

Johnuy  Raws  at  dawn  next  day,  and,  except  for  the  voice  of  one 
crying  in  the  wilderness  that  the  party  had  looted  the  groggery  of 
Laramie  Pete  at  the  Dry  Fork  of  the  Ska,  nothing  more  was  heard 
of  them  till  they  joined  at  Winthrop,  none  the  worse  for  their  wintry 
march.  Ray  had  looked  over  the  array  and  decided  that  he  could 
afford  to  wait  and  pick  for  himself.  Sergeant  Kearney  had  gone  back 
to  the  recruiting  depot.  The  regimental  adjutant  had  been  designated 
as  recruiting  officer  at  the  station,  and  had  disdainfully  rejected,  one 
after  another,  half  a  dozen  seedy-looking  tramps,  when  one  day,  per- 
haps the  fifth  after  their  arrival  at  the  post,  the  sergeant-major  put  his 
handsome  head  into  the  office,  followed  it  in,  carefully  shut  the  door 
behind  him,  stood  scrupulously  at  attention,  and  hemmed  behind  his 
hand  to  attract  his  superior's  notice. 

Mr.  Dana  looked  up  from  the  tangled  mass  of  figures  at  the  foot 
of  his  regimental  return,  laid  down  his  pen,  and  said,  "  Well  ?" 

"  Will  the  adjutant  see  a  man  that  wants  to  enlist?" 

"Not  if  he's  like  the  lot  that  have  been  here  so  far." 

"  He  isn't,  sir,  but  I  don't  know  about  him." 

"What's  the  matter?  I  haven't  time  to  waste  if  he  isn't  good 
enough  to  suit  us."  And  Dana  glanced  out  along  the  wooden  porch 
as  though  in  search  of  the  would-be  trooper. 

"  He's  good  enough,  I  don't  doubt,  sir,"  said  the  sergeant-major,  a 
half-smile  breaking  about  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  "  as  far  as  looks 
go;  but  I  never  knew  fellows  like  this  one  to  enlist  that  didn't  have 
something  wrong  with  'em,  and  he  says  he  wants  to  take  on  with  Cap- 
tain Ray." 

"  He'll  take  on  where  we  see  fit  to  put  him,"  said  Dana,  with  the 
dogmatism  of  the  service.  "  Let's  see  the  gentleman  who  wants  to 
dictate  where  he'll  go." 

So  the  sergeant-major  opened  the  door,  jerked  his  head  backward 
in  encouragement  to  the  invisible  party  in  the  outer  office,  and  said, 
"  Come  in." 

There  stepped  quickly  into  the  room  a  young  man  about  six  feet 
tall,  erect  and  athletic  in  build  and  carriage,  with  a  fine,  clear-cut, 
frank  face,  crowned  with  a  crop  of  curly,  close-cut,  light  brown  hair, 
with  very  deep  blue  eyes,  large  and  clear,  under  heavy  brows,  and 
thick,  long,  curling  lashes,  a  curly  blond  moustache  sweeping  out  at 
the  ends  and  barely  hiding  the  curve  of  his  handsomely  chiselled  lips, 
chin  and  jaws  cleanly  shaved,  throat  powerful,  open  and  bare,  for  the 
rolling  collar  of  a  brand-new  blue  flannel  shirt  was  confined  only  by  a 
loosely  knotted  tie  of  silk.  The  coat  he  wore  was  a  sort  of  double- 
breasted  pea-jacket  of  dark  blue  beaver,  now  thrown  open  in  deference 
to  the  warmth  of  the  room,  but  the  first  significant,  if  not  suspicious, 
thing  the  young  man  did  as  he  entered  was  to  begin  buttoning  it 
throughout.  Snugly  fitting  trousers  of  dark  blue,  belted  at  the  waist, 
stout,  slender,  well-made  shoes,  and  a  soft  black  crush  hat,  completed 
his  attire.  As  Dana  looked  at  him  in  some  surprise,  the  new-comer 
brought  his  heels  together,  and  between  him  and  the  foremost  non- 
commissioned officer  in  the  — th  the  expert  eye  could  hardly  have  told 
which  was  the  more  soldierly  in  build  and  carriage. 


RAY'S  RECRUIT.  477 

For  a  moment  no  one  spoke.  It  was  Dana  who  finally  broke 
silence. 

"  Why you've  served  before." 

"Only  in  a  militia  regiment,  sir." 

"Where?" 

"  In  New  York  City." 

The  adjutant  had  a  dozen  more  questions  on  the  tip  of  his  tongue, 
and  the  visitor  saw  it. 

"  I  have  answered  that,  sir,  because  I  presume  I  have  to  account 
for  standing  attention,  but  there  are  many  questions  that  may  occur  to 
you  that  I  do  not  wish  to  answer.  If  I  may  speak  wnth  Captain  Ray 
I  think  I  can  satisfy  him  without  going  into  particulars." 

Dana  whipped  his  wooden  chair  around  and  squarely  confronted 
the  speaker.  That  he  was  a  man  of  education  and  social  position  in 
the  past,  at  least,  Dana  saw  at  a  glance,  and  just  as  quickly  did  the 
com])anion  thought  flash  across  his  mind,  "  Another  case  of  the  prodi- 
gal son."  Incredulity  as  to  the  motives  of  a  man  in  enlisting  in  those 
days  was  not  confined  to  the  rank  and  file. 

"Captain  Ray  may  or  may  not  be  satisfied,  but  in  either  event,  as 
recruiting  officer  of  the  regiment,  I  have  to  be,"  said  the  young  officer, 
with  a  touch  of  asperity  in  his  tone.  It  was  not  good  to  his  ears  to 
be  told  that  a  would-be  recruit  declined  to  answer  questions. 

The  new-comer,  far  from  looking  disconcerted,  smiled  affably  and 
frankly.  His  blue  eyes  twinkled,  his  white  teeth  gleamed.  "The 
best-looking  scapegrace  that  ever  came  to  us.  Confound  his  impudence 
for  grinning,"  said  Dana  to  himself. 

"  That  is  why  I  wish  to  speak  with  Captain  Ray,  sir,"  said  the 
civilian.  "He  might  be  able  to  satisfy  you  when  I,  probably,  could 
not." 

"  I  don't  know  how  you  make  that  out,"  said  Dana,  curiosity  be- 
traying him  into  a  half-argument  with  the  applicant,  which  Dana  very 
well  knew  was  iiifra  dig. 

"Possibly  Captain  Ray  will  explain  it,"  was  the  answer,  and  the 
serenity  of  the  applicant  remained  unruffled. 

"  Oh,  very  well,"  said  Dana,  nettled  in  spite  of  his  better  nature. 
"Go  see  Captain  Ray  if  you  wish." 

But  even  as  he  spoke  the  hall  door  opened  and  in  burst  Major 
Mainwaring.  There  is  no  other  way  of  describing  the  major's  method 
of  entering  a  room.  It  has  been  said  that  he  was  blunt  both  in  speech 
and  in  action.  A  soldier  for  years  of  his  life,  no  amount  of  domestic 
polish  had  ever  succeeded  in  smoothing  off  the  rough  edges  of  the 
camp.  Mainwaring  prided  himself  on  being  direct  in  everything  he 
said  and  did.  Men  and  women  who  knew  him  well  knew  there  was  a 
mine  of  genuine  kindness  and  goodness  under  the  rugged  surface. 
Men  and  women  who  heard  him  speak  for  the  first  time  declared  him 
a  brute. 

"  What  you  got  here  ?"  blurted  Mainwaring,  glaring  at  the  sergeant- 
major  and  his  silent  companion. 

"  Man  wants  to  enlist,  sir,"  was  the  reply. 

Now,  Mainwaring  was  not  the  recruiting  officer  of  the  regiment. 


478  RAY'S  RECRUIT. 

He  was  in  no  wise  responsible  for  their  selection.  He  had  been  but  a 
few  months  a  member  of  the  regiment  himself,  having,  as  has  been 
explained,  been  j)romoted  to  it  from  another  when  Major  Barry  became 
lieutenant-colonel;  but  it  was  a  peculiarity  of  Mainwaring's  that  he 
considered  it  his  inalienable  right  to  have  a  say  in  everything  going 
on,  and  it  wasn't  so  much  what  he  said  as  how  he  said  it  tiiat  made  it 
obnoxious.  He  scowled  at  the  very  presentable  new-comer  as  though 
words  were  inadequate  to  express  his  disapprobation,  then  gruffly 
demanded, — 

"  Where  you  from  ?" 

A  flush  went  up  to  the  forehead  of  the  young  man,  and  there  was 
an  instant's  hesitation  ;  then  in  a  very  quiet  tone  he  replied,  "  The 
East." 

Major  Mainwaring  was  studying  him  sharply,  a  suspicious  light  in 
his  black  eyes.  "Haven't  I  seen  you  before ?'Mie  presently  asked, 
the  words  tumbling  all  over  one  another's  heels. 

"  Not  out  here,  certainly,"  was  the  tempered  reply,  though  the  blue 
eyes  were  firing  up  and  looking  squarely  into  the  kindling  black. 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  you  haven't  been  in  service  before?" 
The  major's  precipitate  style  of  questioning  left  barely  time  for  answer. 

But  the  civilian  took  his  time  and  chose  his  words.  "I  do  not 
mean  to  tell  you — anything,  sir." 

For  a  moment  Mainwaring  simply  glared  as  though  he  could  not 
realize  the  full  significance  of  the  words. 

"  What  in  thunder  do  you  mean  by  that?"  he  finally  growled. 

"  Just  what  I  have  said,  sir,"  was  the  reply.  "  Five  minutes  ago 
I  wished  to  enlist  in  this  regiment;  now  I  don't.  Good-day  to  you, 
gentlemen."  And,  to  the  speechless  amaze  of  the  sergeant-major,  the 
suppressed  delight  of  Dana,  and  the  profane  astonishment  of  Main- 
waring, he  calmly  walked  past  the  two  officers,  replacing  his  hat  as  he 
did  so,  stalked  deliberately  into  the  hall-way  and  out  of  the  front 
door. 

"Well,  of  all  the  chip-on-the-shoulder  specimens  I  ever  saw," 
loudly  laughed  Mainwaring, "  that  fellow  beats  the  lot.  What  do  you 
s'pose  fired  him  off  so?  I  hadn't  begun  to  say  anything  to  him. 
The  man's  a  dash-dashed  double-dashed  liar,  and  I  know  it.  I've  seen 
him  somewhere  before,  and  he  knows  it,  and  he's  afraid  to  show  up 
again,  and  took  the  first  excuse  to  get  oif.  That  man's  a  dash-dashed 
deserter,  or  a  horse-thief,  or  something.  He  knows  me,  and  didn't 
know  of  my  promotion  to  this  regiment  or  my  being  here.  You  are 
well  rid  of  him,  Dana.     He'll  never  show  up  at  Ransom  again." 

But  he  did,  for  just  two  days  later  Captain  Ray  came  cheerily  into 
the  office  with  enlistment  papers  in  his  hand.  "  Dana,  old  boy,  I've 
got  a  tip-top  man  to  be  sworn  in. — This  way,  ])lease,  Hunter."  And 
there  at  the  door-way  stood  the  applicant  of  two  days  before. 

Dana  glanced  over  the  papers.  "  Arthur  Hunter,  born  New  York, 
by  occupation  a  clerk,  do  hereby  acknowledge  to  have  voluntarily  en- 
listed this  sixth  day  of  November,  188-,  as  a  soldier  in  the  army  of 
the  United  States,  etc.,  etc.,  and  do  solemnly  swear  that  I  am  twenty- 
five  years  and  seven  months  of  age,  etc.,  etc.,  and  I,  Arthur  Hunter, 


RAY'S   RECRUIT.  479 

do  solemnly  swear  that  I  will  bear  true  faith  and  allegiance  to  the 
United  States  of  America,  etc.,  etc." 

Then  Dana  looked  up  at  the  dark  eyes  and  curling  black  moustache 
and  animated  face  of  one  of  the  crack  captains  in  tiie  regiment,  and 
from  him  to  the  silent,  blue-eyed,  and,  as  before,  thoroughly  present- 
able stranger,  and  there  was  embarrassment  in  the  adjutant's  face.  For 
a  moment  he  hesitated,  then  turned  to  the  would-be  recruit. 

"  Will  you  step  outside  a  moment?  I  have  to  speak  with  Captain 
Kay." 

He  was  instantly  obeyed. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  captain,"  said  Dana,  "  but  I  have  to  ask  a 
question  or  two.  Major  Mainwaring  is  sure  he  has  seen  this  man 
before,  and  that  he  is  a  deserter  or  something  disreputable  despite  his 
good  looks.     He  refused  to  answer  for  himself  two  days  ago." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  answered  Ray,  smilingly.  "We  all  know  how 
suave  and  encouraging  the  major  is  apt  to  be  to  strangers.  It's  a  won- 
der some  wild  Westerner  hasn't  put  a  bullet  through  him,  I've  heard 
all  about  that  interview." 

"And — you're  willing  to  take  chances?  You're  satisfied  this 
man's  all  right?" 

"  All  right  as  men  go,  Dana.  We  can't  expect  all  the  '  vartues  and 
timperance  besides  for  thirteen  dollars  a  month,'  as  Mulligan  said  in  the 
Mexican  war.  But  this  applicant  satisfies  me  that  he  means  to  serve, 
that  he  loves  a  horse,  and  can  ride  like  a  Kentuckian.  I'll  bet  he  can 
fight,  and  it's  none  of  our  business  who  he  is,  where  he  hails  from,  or 
why  he  enlisted,  so  long  as  he  does  his  duty.  Now  I'm  willing  to 
take  him." 

And  that  settled  it.  Recruit  Arthur  Hunter  was  formally  accepted 
as  a  member  of  the  sorrel  troop,  took  his  first  lesson  with  the  curry- 
comb and  brush  without  a  word,  and,  "  without  turning  a  hair,"  his 
initiation  on  Buckler,  the  meanest  brute  in  the  stable,  and  rode  him 
barebacked  to  water  despite  furious  plunges  and  wild  howls  of  delight 
from  threescore  trooper  throats.  Furthermore,  Hunter  accepted  bar- 
rack fare  without  remark  and  barrack  chaff  without  remonstrance,  and 
when  forty-eight  hours  elapsed  and  his  captain  asked  him  how  he 
liked  it,  the  new  trooper  clicked  his  heels  together  and  said,  "  Better 
than  I  hoped  to,  sir,"  and  then  surprised  that  officer  by  a  request  to  be 
allowed  to  be  absent  until  next  day.  Etiquette  required  that  such 
favors  should  be  asked  through  the  first  sergeant  in  writing.  The 
colonel's  consent  had  also  to  be  given,  but  Hunter  produced  in  ex- 
planation a  telegram  received  but  half  an  hour  before  stables.  That 
despatch  was  addressed  properly  to  Trooper  A.  Hunter,  Fort  Ransom, 
and  said,  "  Must  move  to-night.  Will  bring  your  things  on  No.  3," 
and  it  came  from  Pawnee. 

Captain  Ray  looked  it  over  in  some  uncertainty.  "  What  things 
are  these?"  he  asked. 

"  A  trunk,  sir,  and  some  other  property,  principally  clothing." 

Colonel  Atherton  did  not  look  over-pleased  at  the  application  of 
Captain  Ray  for  permission  for  a  new  recruit  to  be  absent  over-night, 
but  Rav  was  a  favorite.    Sergeant  Merri weather  was  ffbing:  to  Butte  on 


480  RAVS  RECRUIT. 

pass  after  supper;  Recruit  Hunier  could  go  with  him  in  the  post- 
trader's  wagon.     Ray  felt  sure  of  his  man,  and  the  colonel  consented. 

And  so  it  happened  that  Merriweather's  pretty  wife,  the  invalid  of  a 
fortnight  agone,  was  surprised  by  the  sight  of  a  tall,  very  fine-looking 
young  man,  in  a  new  fatigue  suit  not  yet  altered  to  fit  him,  who 
appeared  at  the  door-way  of  her  little  abode  shortly  after  gun-fire  and 
asked  for  the  sergeant. 

"  He'll  be  here  directly.  Surely  this  must  be  Mr.  Hunter,"  said 
she,  dusting  a  chair  and  looking  up  at  him  from  under  her  long  lashes. 
"You'll  come  in  and  wait,  won't  you?"  she  added,  invitingly.  But 
Hunter  thanked  her  briefly  and  said  he'd  go  to  the  store,  which  he  did, 
with  her  bright  eyes  following  him  in  lively  curiosity. 

It  was  midnight  when  Sergeant  Merri weather,  driving  in,  reported 
his  return  at  the  guard-house  and  found  the  officer  of  the  day  and 
half  the  guard  searching  busily  about  the  premises  in  hopes  of  dis- 
covering by  what  means  two  general  prisoners  had  sawed  their  way  out 
of  their  iron-barred  room.  The  rest  of  the  guard  were  in  pursuit.  It 
was  a  night  of  excitement  and  disgust  for  most  of  them,  and  they  were 
all  wide  awake  and  eager  for  news  when,  at  the  break  of  day,  there 
came  galloping  out  from  Butte  the  local  agent  of  the  Transcontinental, 
with  a  startling  story.  Train  No.  3,  "  The  Owl,"  the  Pacific  ex})ress, 
had  been  held  up  by  robbers  about  an  hour  earlier,  just  east  of  Ska 
Bridge.  Jimmy  Long,  engineer  of  783,  was  badly  shot.  His  fireman 
was  killed.  The  robbers,  nearly  a  dozen  in  number,  had  terrorized 
the  train-hands,  got  everything  there  was  in  the  safe,  in  the  mail-car, 
and  among  the  passengers  in  the  day-coach  and  sleeper,  and  had  then 
ridden  oif  northwestward  across  the  Ska.  They  were  heading  for  the 
Dry  Fork.  The  sheriff  was  trying  to  raise  a  posse  in  town,  but  it  was 
slow  work.     For  God's  sake,  couldn't  the  cavalry  go  in  pursuit? 


CHAPTER  Vr. 


A  Territorial  governor  is  not  an  awe-inspiring  official  ordinarily, 
but  the  governor  of  Wyoming,  relieved  of  his  valuables  at  the  point 
of  the  pistol,  was  not  slow  in  seeking  redress.  From  Butte  he  wired 
full  particulars  of  the  robbery  to  the  department  commander,  who  was 
at  Pawnee,  just  back  from  an  inspection  of  the  Sioux  agencies,  fifty 
miles  to  the  north.  The  general  was  waiting  for  the  East-bound  train 
at  the  depot  hotel,  was  aroused  in  an  instant,  and  lost  no  time  in  wiring 
authority  to  Colonel  Atherton  to  use  any  means  in  his  power  to  head 
off  and  capture  the  robbers,  without  waiting  for  civil  process.  The 
news  of  the  "  hold-up"  with  its  attendant  casualties  went  buzzing 
over  the  post  at  reveille,  and  barely  had  the  story  reached  Atherton  as 
he  stood  under  the  flag-staff,  receiving  the  reports  of  the  troop  com- 
manders, when  out  came  the  telegrapii  operator,  racing,  and  the  colonel 
read  the  hurriedly  penned  lines  and  turned  to  Ray.  Somehow  or 
other,  whenever  any  swift,  hard  riding  had  to  be  done,  Ray  and  Ray's 
troop  were  the  first  fellows  thought  of. 


RAV'S  RECRUIT.  481 

"  Let  your  men  finish  breakfast/'  said  the  colonel,  "  then — do  your 
best."     And  he  handed  the  dark-eyed  Kentuckian  the  despatch. 

In  an  hour  from  that  time,  Mrs.  Ray,  holding  her  baby  boy  in  her 
arras,  was  gazing  from  the  north  window  of  her  army  home  at  some 
black  specks  on  the  far  horizon,  and  little  Sandy,  tugging  at  the  skirts 
of  her  pretty  morning  wrapper,  was  coaxing  for  mother  to  hold  him 
up  too.  The  sorrel  troop  were  up  and  away,  heading  for  Wheelan 
Springs,  on  the  Laramie  trail,  and  bets  were  even  between  Stannard 
and  Mainwaring  that  "  Ray  would  nab  the  outfit  before  sundown." 

But  who  could  that  "  outfit"  be?  Jim  Long  said  all  were  masked 
and  he  recognized  none.  Scut,  his  fireman,  died  without  a  sign.  Parks, 
the  expressman  declared  every  form  unfamiliar.  Jarvis,  the  conductor, 
and  Ryan,  a  brakeman,  alone  could  furnish  anything  like  a  clue.  Two 
of  the  desperadoes  were  dressed  like  two  cowboys  they  had  had  aboard 
the  night  of  the  collision,  a  fortnight  back,  and  the  leader,  who  was 
tall,  slender,  well  dressed,  with  the  voice  and  intonation  of  a  man  of 
education  and  social  position,  closely  resembled  in  build  a  passenger 
who  boarded  the  sleeper  that  night  at  the  Junction  and  left  it  after  the 
accident  and  went  to  Pawnee.  The  division  superintendent  wired  to 
Omaha  such  particulars  as  he  could  give.  The  legal  representative 
and  certain  detectives  of  the  road  were  ordered  to  leave  for  the  scene 
by  first  train.  The  sheriff  at  Butte  had  a  good-sized  posse  in  readiness 
by  breakfast-time,  and  then  started  valiantly  on  the  trail  of  Ray's 
troop,  passing  through  Fort  Ransom  about  the  time  that  Mr.  Dana 
was  mounting  guard.  Other  sheriff's  officials  went  out  to  Mindeu 
with  the  division  superintendent,  and  others  still  pushed  on  to  Pawnee, 
up  on  the  broad  plateau,  to  inquire  for  two  cowboys,  a  tramp,  and  a 
swell,  all  of  whom  had  appeared  there  in  company,  just  after  the 
smash-up  at  Alkali  Flats,  none  of  whom  were  there  now,  but  one  of 
whom,  the  tramp,  so  called,  looking  so  entirely  a  different  man — with 
trimmed  hair  and  beard  and  good  clothes — as  to  have  been  unrecog- 
nizable had  he  not  rashly  given  himself  away  to  everybody  by  bragging 
about  his  exploits  the  night  of  the  smash-up, — that  tramp  had  boarded 
No.  3  at  three  thirty  A.M.  at  Pawnee,  with  a  ticket  for  Sweetwater, 
but,  so  it  transpired,  had  checked  his  trunk  only  as  far  as  Butte.  All 
this  by  rapid  telegraphing  to  and  fro  was  developed  before  the  posse 
started  on  its  way,  but  not  until  after  the  despoiled  train  had  changed 
engines  at  Butte,  and  then,  according  to  the  inexorable  rules  of  the 
railway,  had  gone  on  again.  Jarvis  remembered  that  a  very  decent, 
quiet  fellow  boarded  the  forward  passenger  coach  at  Pawnee  with  a 
ticket  for  Sweetwater,  but  he  did  not  connect  him  with  the  tramp  so 
lavishly  provided  for  by  the  "swell"  the  night  of  the  collision.  But, 
now  they  spoke  of  it,  they  were  about  the  same  size  and  build,  and 
what  made  it  significant,  that  fellow  seemed  to  have  disappeared  when 
the  robbers  jumped  aboard  and  went  through  the  passengers,  nor  did 
he  appear  again  until  just  as  the  train  pulled  out  for  Butte,  after  the 
robbers  were  gone.  Wiring  west  after  the  rushing  train  speedily 
brought  this  answer :  *'  No  party  with  ticket  from  Pawnee  to  Sweet- 
water aboard."  And  as  he  had  been  seen,  and  talked  with,  and  listened 
to,  up  to  the  moment  of  the  arrival  of  No,  3  at  Butte,  Jarvis  declared 
Vol.  LIX  -^31 


482  RAFS  RECRUIT. 

the  man  must  be  somewhere  about  the  town  at  this  moment,  and  Butte's 
few  policemen  were  put  in  search. 

AH  they  discovered  by  noon  was  that  such  a  party  had  been  seen 
talking  excitedly  with  a  tall  stranger  in  heavy  overcoat  and  cap  near 
the  baggage-room  just  after  the  train  came  in.  The  baggage-man  said 
that  the  man  who  presented  check  for  the  trunk  from  Pawnee  was  tall, 
slender,  and  dressed  in  rough,  heavy  coat  and  travelling-cap.  The 
trunk  was  sole-leather.  It  had  a  lot  of  foreign  stamps,  hotel  posters, 
and  railway-luggage  slips  all  over  it,  but  the  baggage -master  had  no 
time  to  examine  it.  Two  men  had  carried  the  trunk  away  between 
them,  declining  the  offers  of  the  baggage-man.  Somebody  remembered 
such  a  trunk  being  wheeled  in  a  barrow  up  Hoyt  Street  just  after 
No.  3  came  in,  two  men  with  it,  a  tall  and  a  short,  and  that  was  all. 

Recruit  Hunter's  pass  was  up  at  noon,  and  at  eleven  thirty  he 
jumped  from  a  light  wagon  at  the  south  gate,  and  was  hailed  by  the 
corporal  of  the  guard  as  he  was  striding  briskly  towards  his  troop 
quarters : 

"  Say,  young  feller,  come  back  here." 

The  tall  recruit  halted,  turned  and  looked  around,  irresolute.  It 
might  be  authoritative,  it  might  be  mere  practical  joke ;  at  all  events 
the  corporal  was  responsible,  and  the  soldier  walked  straight  to  where 
the  non-commissioned  ofiScer  was  seated  on  a  bench,  near  the  hall  door 
of  the  guard-house. 

"  Where  you  been  ?" 

"  To  town  on  pass,"  was  the  calm  answer. 

"  What  did  you  hear  about  that  hold-up?" 

"  Nothing  of  consequence." 

*'  Well,  your  troop's  gone  thief-catching,  and  you're  to  report  to 
Sergeant  Merri weather  as  soon  as  you  come  in.  Now  you've  come  in, 
you  haven't  any  cigars  or  drinkables  about  you,  have  you  ?  This  is 
the  custom-house  if  you  have." 

Hunter  looked  neither  annoyed  nor  disconcerted.  Taking  two  or 
three  cigars  from  his  overcoat-pocket,  he  said,  "Catch,"  tossed  them 
carelessly  to  the  vigilant  wearer  of  the  chevrons,  hastened  to  barracks, 
deposited  his  bundles  on  the  bed  assigned  him,  and  looked  uj)  and  down 
the  now  silent  and  almost  deserted  building  in  search  of  some  one  to 
tell  him  what  had  taken  place.  Two  men,  one  laid  up  from  the  kick 
of  a  horse,  the  other  with  an  arm  in  a  sling,  came  down  to  investigate 
the  contents  of  his  bundles,  but  were  disarmed  of  hostile  intent  by  his 
easy  good  nature  and  prompt  offer  of  cigars.  Whiskey  he  had  none. 
Asking  for  Merriweather,  he  was  told  to  look  for  him  at  his  quarters. 

"Catch  him  out  of  watching  distance  of  the  little  woman,"  said 
one  of  them,  with  a  grin.  "  Mind  your  eye.  Hunter ;  she'll  be  making 
up  to  you  next,"  said  the  other,  "  and  we  don't  want  you  to  be  found 
with  your  head  in  the  horse-pond,  like  Pat  Shea ;"  and  then  it  trans- 
pired that  Trooper  Shea  had  been  a  devoted  admirer  of  pretty  Mrs. 
Merriweather  while  she  was  still  housemaid  at  the  Freeraans',  and  that 
Pat's  devotions  were  equally  divided  between  her  and  Muldoon's  saloon 
until  one  winter's  morning  he  was  dragged  by  the  legs  from  his  icy 
winding-sheet  with  a  dreadful  gash  in  his  throat  and  the  neck  of  a 


RAF  S  RECRUTT.  483 

bottle  still  grasped  in  his  frozen  hand.  Hunter  obeyed  his  orders  and 
went,  and  Mrs.  ISIerri weather  saw  him  coming,  and  ran  to  her  glass 
before  she  answered  the  sharp  knock  at  the  door. 

"  Why,  it's  Mr.  Hunter,"  she  said.  "  Sure  I  knew  the  step  before 
I  saw  you.  Come  in,  Mr.  Hunter.  The  sergeant's  gone  to  the  com- 
missary, and  I  expect  him  back  every  minute." 

But  the  trooper's  blue  eyes  glanced  only  indifferently  into  the 
coquettish  and  smiling  face. 

"  I  was  directed  here,"  he  said,  ''  to  report  to  Sergeant  Merriweather, 
but  I'll  go  on  down  to  the  stables  and  stop  on  my  return.  Thank  you, 
no,"  he  continued,  with  cold  courtesy,  as  she  again  urged  that  he 
should  enter,  and  strode  away  stablewards  with  more  than  one  pair  of 
eyes  from  the  laundresses'  quarters  gazing  after  him, — those  of  Mrs. 
Merriweather  being  clouded  and  perplexed. 

It  had  been  a  perfect  morning,  keen  and  frosty  at  guard- mount, 
but  warmer  as  the  sun  wheeled  high  towards  the  zenith,  and  Atherton 
had  had  the  regiment  out  for  drill.  The  broad  prairie  northeast  of 
the  post  was  alive  with  prancing,  high-mettled  steeds,  with  dashing 
riders,  and  not  a  few  carriages  and  Concord  wagons,  filled  with  ladies 
of  the  post,  all  rejoicing  at  having  the  regiment  once  more  at  home. 
For  nearly  two  hours  Atherton  had  had  the  seven  troops  in  rapid 
movement  here  and  there  and  everywhere  over  the  plain,  and  now,  the 
drill  over,  troop  after  troop  came  marching  sedately  and  quietly  home- 
ward to  cool  and  calm  the  horses  before  reaching  stables.  In  full 
ranks,  fifty  men  at  least  to  each  company,  in  their  trim-fitting  fatigue 
dress,  and  with  the  silken  swallow-tail  waving  at  the  head  of  each 
little  column,  they  looked  wonderfully  business-like  and  serviceable. 
The  easy,  practised  seat  of  every  man,  the  n(inchalant  grace  of  every 
pose,  the  resolute,  dust-covered,  sometimes  devil-may-care  faces,  all 
seemed  thoroughly  in  keeping  with  the  scene  and  surroundings,  thor- 
oughly in  accord  with  the  buoyant  action  of  the  mettlesome  mounts. 
Accustomed  from  boyhood  to  the  best  of  horse-flesh,  a  born  rider  and 
judge,  Trooper  Hunter  could  not  but  see  that  though  these  frontier 
steeds  might  lack  the  dainty  trappings  and  satin  coats  of  the  park  and 
avenues  of  Gotham,  there  was  life  and  spirit,  fire  and  endurance,  in 
almost  every  one  in  each  of  the  seven  columns.  Standing  by  the 
northward  gate,  he  keenly  studied  each  troop  as  it  came  jogging  briskly 
in.  The  colonel  and  the  major,  the  adjutant  and  certain  other  officers, 
seemed  to  have  grouped  about  the  carriages  of  the  ladies  at  the  edge 
of  the  drill-ground,  but  at  least  one  officer  rode  with  every  troop, — 
the  best  opportunity  the  new-comer  yet  had  enjoyed  of  studying  these 
future  comrades  with  whom  he  might  never  expect  to  exchange  a  word 
or  meet  with  more  than  the  formal  and  punctilious  touch  of  the  hand 
to  cap.  They  were  moving  at  ease  now  until  each  troop  in  succession 
might  cross  the  sentry-post  and  be  called  to  attention  in  recognition 
of  the  salute  of  its  solitary  occupant.  Hunter  watched  the  man  as  he 
halted,  faced  outward  as  the  nearest  troop  drew  nigh,  then  snapped  his 
carbine  to  the  present  as  the  head  of  the  column  turned  to  enter  the 
gate,  and  Captain  Gregg  whipped  out  his  sabre,  gave  voice  over  his 
shoulder  to  the  prolonged  "  'Tensh-o-o-on"  which  brought  every  man's 


484  RAY'S  RECRUIT. 

head  and  eyes  up  and  to  the  front,  and  then,  looking  square  at  the 
sentry,  lowered  the  glittering  blade  in  acknowledgment  of  the  honor 
paid  to  himself  and  his  command.  Hunter's  eyes  kindled  at  the  sight. 
No  matter  how  humble  the  private  soldier,  there  at  least,  on  post  as 
sentry,  he  could  expect  the  recognition  of  the  President  himself,  than 
whom  in  the  eyes  of  the  — th  there  lived  no  grander  potentate  on 
earth.  Then,  the  next  thing  Hunter  knew,  the  troop  came  tripping 
by  the  line  of  picket-fence  on  which  he  leaned,  gazing  out  upon  the 
spirited  scene  beyond  ;  and  now  it  was  his  turn.  The  teachings  of  the 
old  days  in  the  famous  regiment,  wherein  every  man  might  be  said  to 
have  worn  kid  gloves  when  not  on  military  duty,  were  fresh  in  his 
mind,  as  he  had  been  well  schooled  in  the  first  principles  of  soldier 
duty.  Yet  Hunter  felt  the  blood  was  mounting  to  his  temples  and 
his  heart  was  beating  quicker  as  he  faced  the  coming  column,  braced 
his  heels  together,  and  raised  his  hand  to  the  cap  visor,  as  Captain 
Gregg  came  ambling  by.  The  big  troop-leader  glanced  curiously  at 
the  lonely  figure  in  the  cheap  fatigue  dress,  and  again,  but  with  far 
less  precision,  returned  the  salute,  and  Hunter  could  not  but  note  the 
difference.  Before  another  troop  could  pass  him  by,  he  moved  quickly 
away,  twenty  yards  or  more  beyond  the  gate,  where  he  still  could  have 
good  look  at  the  returning  soldiery,  but  was  himself  beyond  saluting 
distance.  One  after  another  the  seven  separate  comj)act  little  columns 
of  fours  marched  steadily  in,  and  jogged  on  down  the  gentle  slope 
towards  the  huge  wooden  stables.  He  was  still  gazing  in  some  odd 
fascination  after  the  last,  the  roan  troop,  when  the  sound  of  bounding 
hoofs,  whirring  wheels,  and  gay  laughter  recalled  his  wandering 
thoughts,  and,  turning  sharply  to  the  prairie  once  more,  his  eyes  fell 
upon  the  foremost  of  the  rapidly  nearing  carriages. 

It  was  a  light,  open  phaeton,  drawn  by  two  spirited  bays,  whose 
fine  action  and  well-made  harness  won  his  instant  approval.  Beside  . 
the  carriage  trotted  the  stocky,  burly  major  whom  he  so  well  remem- 
bered the  day  of  his  first  interview  with  Dana  in  the  office.  On  the 
other  side  rode  Dana  himself,  a  handsome  young  soldier,  and,  far  more 
interested  in  them  than  in  the  possible  occupants  of  the  vehicle.  Hun- 
ter was  looking  upon  them  with  a  soldier's  eye,  keenly  appreciative  of 
Dana's  graceful,  easy  seat  and  of  Mainwaring's  good,  if  bulky,  horse- 
manship, when  he  suddenly  became  aware  of  the  fact  that  instead  of 
turning  in  at  the  gate  the  driver  was  heading  straight  southward,  evi- 
dently intending  to  drive  around  to  the  main  gate  instead  of  passing, 
as  Hunter  had  come,  through  that  portion  of  the  post  best  known  as 
"  Sudstown." 

Another  minute,  and  they  must  flash  past  him,  not  ten  yards  away, 
with  only  that  low  picket-fence  between  them.  Already  the  sentry 
had  halted  and  presented  arms,  both  officers  touching  their  caps  in 
acknowledgment.  Already  the  swift  team  was  darting  past  the  gate. 
The  lady  occupants  of  the  stylish  vehicle  were  whisking  into  view,  and, 
yielding  to  sudden  and  uncontrollable  impulse,  Hunter  whirled  about, 
jumped  the  shallow  ditch,  and  sprang  behind  the  nearest  of  the  little 
houses  devoted  to  the  use  of  the  married  soldiers.  In  that  one  swift 
glance  at  the  fair  occupants  he  had  seen  a  face  at  sight  of  which  the 


RAY'S  RECRUIT.  485 

blood  went  rushing  to  his  own.  There,  side  by  side,  were  Mrs.  Main- 
waring  and  the  young  lady  whom  he  had  picked  up  in  his  arms  the 
night  of  that  "  head-on"  collision  at  Alkali  Flats. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


Major  Stannard  had  won  his  bet,  and  Mainwaring  was  more 
than  usually  "  grumpy"  in  consequence.  Ray  and  his  men,  riding  like 
the  wind,  had  run  down  the  train-robbers  before  they  reached  the 
Dry  Fork,  and  in  a  long,  stern  chase  had  overhauled  first  one  man, 
then  another,  until  darkness  set  in  and  hid  the  leading  fugitives  from 
sight.  Seven  lively  specimens  of  the  border  ruffian  were  tiie  captives 
of  the  sorrel  troop  by  nightfall,  and,  closely  guarded,  these  were  the 
men  turned  over  next  morning  to  Mr.  Sheriff  Conway  when  that  much 
fatigued  official  and  his  posse  reached  tiie  spot  where  Ray  and  his  men 
had  made  camp  the  night  before.  Ray  himself,  with  a  dozen  troopers, 
had  pushed  on  at  daybreak,  following  the  trail  of  the  fugitives  in 
hopes  of  capturing  the  more  prominent  members  of  the  party,  who,  as 
it  turned  out,  had  most  of  the  ill-gotten  booty,  while  his  lieutenant, 
Mr.  Scott,  remained  in  charge  of  the  main  body  and  of  the  prisoners 
until  the  arrival  of  the  civil  authorities,  who  promptly  demanded  and 
obtained  possession.  Conway  and  his  posse,  rejoicing,  turned  home- 
ward at  once  with  their  dishevelled  prizes,  hoping  to  reach  Butte  and 
receive  a  triumph  by  evening  of  the  next  day.  Seven  train-robbers 
was  more  than  had  ever  been  caught  before  in  the  history  of  the 
Territory,  and  great  would  be  the  rejoicings.  Securely  bound,  the 
luckless  captives,  each  man  lashed  to  the  stirrup  of  some  one  of  the 
numerous  posse,  trudged  painfully  along  the  homeward  trail.  Silent, 
resolute,  almost  defiant,  no  one  of  their  number  would  give  the  whisper 
of  a  hint  as  to  the  identity  of  the  leaders  or  of  one  another.  All  were 
strangers  to  Butte.  Neither  Conway  nor  his  deputies  had  ever  seen 
one  of  their  faces  before.  Lieutenant  Scott  had  lost  no  time  in 
saddling  and  pushing  on  after  his  captain,  two  of  the  posse  riding  with 
him  so  as  to  give  the  possibly  necessary  civil  sanction  to  the  arrest  of 
the  robbers  and  to  take  the  customary  civil  credit  for  the  same,  naively 
explaining,  "You  fellows  in  the  regular  army  don't  need  it:  we  do, 
or  there's  no  chance  for  Conway's  crowd  next  election." 

And  on  his  triumphant  homeward  way,  what  was  more  natural 
than  that  Conway  should  march  through  Ransom  the  following  even- 
ing just  as  the  ghost-like  column  in  white  stable-frocks  came  swinging 
up  to  barracks  through  the  gloaming?  As  the  shortest  road  ran  close 
to  the  men's  quarters,  it  happened  that  the  burly  sheriff,  with  his  cap- 
tive train,  went  clattering  by  the  long  wooden  porches,  and  such 
troopers  as  happened  to  be  excused  from  stables — precious  few  in 
Atherton's  regiment — came  rushing  out  of  quarters  to  see  them.  All 
the  companies  had  had  to  "  stand  to  heel"  and  have  their  stalls  inspected 
before  they  started  up  the  slope,  but  in  Ray's  stable  were  only  a  few 
horses,  and  the  few  men  under  charge  of  Sergeant  Merriweather  had 


486  RAY'S  RECRUIT. 

already  gone  to  barracks,  and  were  there  when  Conway  came  through, 
and  of  this  few  was  the  new  trooper,  Hunter. 

Still  wearing  his  white  stable-frock,  and  looking  a  trifle  tired  and 
sombre,  the  recruit  had  stopped  at  the  corner  of  the  porch  and  was 
gazing  with  but  languid  interest  at  Conway's  motley  cavalcade,  when 
Merriweather  joined  him.  "  A  precious  lot  of  jail-birds,"  said  the 
sergeant,  as  the  party  came  jogging  by,  sheriff  and  deputies  grinning 
affably,  and  many  of  the  latter  shouting  words  of  condolence  to  the 
stay-at-homes  who  hadn't  been  partakers  with  them  in  the  glories  of 
the  chase  and  capture.  Four  prisoners  had  trudged  wearily  by,  while 
Trooper  Hunter  replied  briefly  but  without  especial  civility  to  the 
sergeant's  remark.  Then  came  the  fifth,  whose  eyes,  haggard  and 
hunted-looking,  glanced  up  just  one  second  at  the  man  in  stable-frock 
at  the  edge  of  the  porch,  and  instantly  there  was  a  flash  of  recognition. 
Sergeant  Merriweather,  turning  to  his  companion  in  surprise,  saw  him 
gazing  after  number  five  with  an  expression  of  amazement  and  dismay 
upon  his  handsome  face. 

"  Then  you've  met  one  of  these  fellows  before,  have  you  ?"  said 
Merriweather,  with  instant  suspicion. 

But  Hunter  answered  never  a  word,  and,  turning  short,  plunged 
into  the  shadows  of  the  great,  gloomy  barrack. 

Not  for  forty-eight  hours  longer  did  Captain  Ray  return,  and  with 
him  came  the  two  deputies  and  one  more  prisoner.  The  others,  so  said 
the  hoof-tracks,  had  scattered  during  that  first  night  over  the  face  of 
the  earth,  and  even  the  trail  soon  became  indistinct  on  the  hard  prairie 
beyond  the  Ska ;  but  enough  was  known  to  warrant  the  statement  that 
two  of  the  number  had  gone  towards  the  agencies  away  to  the  north- 
east, and  that  their  mounts  were  evidently  blooded  stock,  far  swifter 
than  Ray's,  for  never  once  had  their  leaders  been  in  view,  and  there 
was  no  use  in  further  pursuit.  Huddled  in  the  county  jail,  the  eight 
malefactors  were  awaiting  the  action  of  the  civil  authorities  and 
their  identification  by  the  railway  people  while  Ray  and  his  returned 
men  shook  off  the  dust  of  travel  and  settled  down  to  garrison  duty 
again.  The  first  thing  demanded  of  Sergeant  Merriweather  was  an 
account  of  his  stewardship  and  the  progress  of  the  new  trooper,  and 
Merriweather  looked  solemn  and  mysterious,  and  was  finally  under- 
stood to  say  that  he  had  nothing  to  complain  of  in  him,  but  he  "reck- 
oned other  people  might."  Whereupon  Ray  bade  him  speak  out.  The 
Kentuckian  could  not  tolerate  insinuation  or  innuendo  in  a  soldier. 
And  Merriweather  told  the  story  of  the  mutual  recognition  of  Hunter 
and  the  unknown  captive. 

It  was  the  evening  of  his  return  to  Ransom,  and  just  before  tattoo, 
which  in  those  days  was  always  accompanied  by  a  roll-call. 

"  See  if  Hunter  is  in  quarters,"  said  the  captain,  "and  send  him  to 
me."     And  Merriweather  hastened  on  his  errand. 

No.  The  men  in  barracks  said  the  swell  recruit  was  out  some- 
where. "  Mabbe  he's  gone  down  to  pay  his  respects  to  Mrs.  Merri- 
weather, sergeant,"  sneered  an  ill-conditioned  fellow,  a  man  no  otiier 
liked,  yet  wiio  had  served  with  the  old  troop  over  half  a  dozen  years. 
Merriweather  knew  it  would   never  do  to   notice  the   remark,  but  it 


RAY'S  RECRUIT.  487 

stung  him  all  the  same.  "  Find  him,  you,  and  tell  him  the  captain 
wants  him  at  once,"  said  he  to  the  would-be  sneerer,  then  slammed  the 
door  behind  him  and  sprang  out  into  the  night.  He  had  not  been 
home  for  nearly  an  hour,  and  he  needed,  he  told  himself,  a  drink  :  so 
thither  he  went. 

Bright  lights  were  burning  in  some  of  the  quarters,  dim  ones  in 
others,  but  in  his  own  the  light  seemed  lowered  to  the  verge  of  dark- 
ness. Not  two  yards  from  his  door  tiie  tall  figure  of  a  man  in  soldier 
overcoat  loomed  into  view,  and,  peering  closely  at  him,  Merriweather 
discovered  the  recruit. 

"  Where  you  been.  Hunter  ?"  was  the  sharp,  stern  demand. 

"  Looking  for  you,  sergeant,"  was  the  quiet  reply. 

"  Who  sent  you  ?"  And  there  were  both  anger  and  suspicion  in  the 
tone. 

"Oh,  no  one.  I  wished  to  speak  with  you  a  moment.  I  want 
some  advice." 

"There  is  no  need  of  your  coming  here,  then.  You've  seen  me  a 
dozen  times  in  the  last  two  days  :  why  didn't  you  ask  it  then  ?" 

For  a  moment  the  younger  man  was  silent ;  surprise  and  disap- 
pointment clouded  his  face.  So,  too,  there  crept  into  it  a  shade  of 
indignation,  and  it  showed  plainly  in  the  tone  of  his  reply. 

"  I  had  no  need  of  it  then,"  was  the  answer,  as  the  younger  soldier 
looked  squarely  into  the  eyes  of  the  senior.  Then,  just  as  when 
angered  by  the  overbearing  ways  of  Major  Mainwaring,  Hunter's  high 
spirit  overmastered  his  resolution  to  take  men  and  matters  as  he  found 
them,  and  his  eyes,  too,  flashed  angrily.  "  Whatever  thought  I  had 
of  it  ten  minutes  ago,"  he  said,  "  is  gone  now.     I  won't  trouble  you." 

And  with  that  he  would  have  gone  his  way,  but  Merriweather, 
smarting  with  jealousy  and  suspicion,  threw  himself  across  his  path. 

"  You  go  no  further,  young  man,  till  you  hear  what  I've  got  to  say. 
This  is  the  third  time  in  less  than  a  week  you've  been  prowling  here 
around  my  door.  Keep  your  distance  in  future.  D'ye  understand  ? 
No  man  enters  that  house  except  on  my  invitation.  Now  you  go  to 
Captain  Ray  and  tell  him  I  sent  you." 

For  a  moment  the  tall  young  soldier  stood  there,  too  astonished  to 
make  reply.  He  had  heard  the  men  talk  of  Merriweather  as  "  tough 
on  recruits."  He  had  understood  that  new  men  must  take  a  great  deal 
of  bullying  from  the  elders, — that  it  was  purposely  done  to  try  their 
temper  and  test  their  sense  of  subordination.  Hitherto  he  had  looked 
upon  Merriweather's  asperities  as  having  no  personal  significance. 
Now,  for  the  first  time,  it  flashed  upon  him  that  he  was  singled  out  for 
harsh,  overbearing,  and  abusive  language  from  a  man  coarse  by  nature, 
mentally,  physically,  and  socially  his  inferior.  All  on  a  sudden  the  hot 
blood  boiled  in  his  veins,  and,  forgetful  of  his  new  obligations,  reck- 
less of  anything  but  his  wrath.  Trooper  Hunter  hit  out  straight,  hard, 
and  well,  taking  Merriweather  squarely  between  the  eyes  and  knocking 
him  flat.  The  resounding  thwack  of  the  blow,  the  heavy  crash  of  the 
fall,  were  echoed  from  the  door-way  by  a  woman's  startled  cry,  and 
the  next  thing  Hunter  knew  as  he  stood  there  still  quivering,  his  fist 
clinched  and  ready  to  dash  again  at  his  floored  victim,  now  feebly 


488  RAV'S  RECRUIT. 

struggling  to  his  knees,  the  slender  form  of  the  sergeant's  wife  was 
bending  over  the  beaten  man ;  then  she  threw  herself  upon  her  knees 
beside  her  prostrate  husband. 

"  You've  struck  him  cruel  hard,"  she  moaned.  "  Oh,  you  shouldn't 
have  minded  what  he  said,  Mr.  Hunter.  He's  awful  jealous. — There, 
Danny,  sit  still, — sit  still,"  she  pleaded,  soothingly.  "  Run  for  a  little 
water,  Mr.  Hunter;  he's  bleeding  fearful.  Do  be  still,  Danny.  Sure 
the  gentleman  never  set  foot  inside  your  door,  nor  spoke  a  word  to  me. 
You're  foolish,  Danny."  She  strove  to  stanch  the  blood  with  her 
handkerchief,  but  he  was  slowly  regaining  his  faculties,  and  thrust  her 
rudely  away,  and  then  she  saw  he  was  fumbling  inside  the  breast  of 
his  coat,  and  fear  gave  her  strength.  Hunter  had  taken  a  dipperful 
of  water  from  the  barrel  at  the  side  of  the  little  hut,  and  was  bringing 
it,  dripping,  wondering  as  he  came  what  would  be  the  outcome  of  this 
mad  impulse,  but  she  met  him  half-way,  seized  the  dipper,  and  bade 
him  go.  "Quick,"  she  panted;  "don't  stop  an  instant  now.  Get 
away  before  he  comes  to  himself,  or  he'll  shoot.  Go  instantly,  please, 
Mr.  Hunter,  or  maybe  he'll  kill  me  too." 

"  I  can't  go  if  I've  hurt  him.  I  must  help  him  up,"  he  began, 
but  she  clutched  his  arm  with  trembling  hands  and  whirled  him  about 
towards  the  barracks. 

"  No,  no ;  leave  everything  to  me.  Don't  come  here  till  I  tell  you. 
Don't  you  speak  of  this  to  a  soul,  unless  you  want  him  to  kill  me.  He'll 
never  liarm  me  now  unless  he  sees  you  still  here ;  but  not  a  word  of 
it.  I  can  keep  him  quiet."  Then  she  pushed  him  violently  from  her, 
just  as  the  sergeant,  staggering  to  his  feet,  held  forth  a  feeble  hand  as 
though  seeking  support. 

And  at  that  moment,  up  along  the  line  of  barracks,  the  trumpets 
began  the  spirited  music  of  the  tattoo.  The  doors  of  neighboring 
cottages  began  to  open,  and  soldier  forms,  env^eloped  in  the  long  caped 
overcoats,  hastened  forth.  Irresolute,  bewildered,  hardly  knowing 
what  he  did  and  far  from  knowing  what  he  ought  to  do,  Trooper 
Hunter  hurried  from  the  spot,  breasted  the  slope  to  the  "  bench"  on 
which  was  spread  the  garrison  proper,  and  found  full  two-thirds  of  his 
troop  already  gathering  in  front  of  their  quarters  awaiting  the  signal 
to  form  ranks, — the  quick,  stirring  assembly. 

"Did  you  see  Doyle?  He  was  looking  for  you.  Hunter,"  chir- 
ruped a  little  Patlander.  "  You're  blowing,  man.  Where  ye  running 
from  ?" 

But  Hunter  made  no  reply.  Hooking  the  collar  of  his  overcoat 
and  buttoning  it  throughout,  he  stepped  quietly  to  the  point  where  the 
centre  of  his  troop  usually  formed  for  roll-call,  for  his  place  in  ranks 
was  close  behind  a  tall  corporal  who  marked  the  left  of  the  first  platoon. 
The  first  sergeant,  silent  and  solitary,  his  swinging  lantern  in  his  hand, 
stood  a  few  yards  away,  gazing  out  across  the  dim  parade  at  the  bright 
lights  in  the  distant  quarters  of  the  officers.  The  soldierly  form  of 
the  second  lieutenant  could  be  dimly  discerned  a  few  yards  beyond  the 
sergeant.  To  the  right  and  left,  in  front  of  the  other  barrack  build- 
ings, big  black  groups  of  men  were  gathered  and  sergeants'  lights 
were  gleaming,  all  awaiting  the  next  signal.     Suddenly  it  came,  quick 


RAY'S  RECRUIT.  4<S9 

rippling,  merry.  "  Fall  in,"  were  the  hoarse  words  growled  from  half 
a  dozen  soldier  throats.  The  groups  quickly  resolved  themselves  into 
two  long  columns  of  files  that  faced  to  their  left  the  instant  the  music 
ceased,  and  stood  motionless  while,  with  the  ease  and  rapidity  of  daily 
practice,  the  sergeant  called  the  roll. 

The  non-commissioned  head  of  the  sorrel  troop  twice  repeated  one 
name  in  a  questioning,  surprised  tone,  then  faced  his  lieutenant  and 
reported,  "  Sergeant  Merriweather  absent,  sir."  The  officer  acknow- 
ledged the  salute,  said,  "  Dismiss  the  troop,"  and,  facing  about,  found 
himself  confronting  the  unexpected  apparition  of  Captain  Ray,  and 
heard  in  the  soft  dialect  of  the  Blue  Grass  his  captain's  words : 

"Send  Trooper  Hunter  to  me,  sergeant,  directly  you  dismiss." 

And  while  Lieutenant  Scott  went  away  to  report  the  result  of  roll- 
call  to  the  adjutant,  and  the  sergeant  again  faced  his  company.  Hunter 
felt  his  heart  sink  within  him.  Already  Merriweather,  then,  had  man- 
aged to  get  word  to  his  captain,  and  the  captain  was  there  to  wreak 
vengeance  on  him,  the  luckless  offender.  In  violation  of  the  strictest 
articles  of  war,  he.  Hunter  Gray,  had  struck  down  his  superior  officer, 
and  was  now  to  suffer  the  penalty  of  the  law. 

"  You  hear,  Hunter :  the  captain  wants  you."  Then,  "  Break 
ranks.  March  !"  was  the  order,  and  the  troop,  cohesive  and  compact 
but  the  moment  before,  dissolved  at  the  word  and  fell  to  pieces,  leaving 
the  new  member  standing  all  alone.  For  one  moment  he  remained 
there  to  pull  himself  together,  then,  nerved  to  face  the  worst,  strode  out 
to  meet  his  fate,  his  heart  thumping  in  his  breast. 

"  Hunter,"  said  the  captain,  "did  I  not  understand  you  to  say  that 
you  were  a  total  stranger  west  of  the  jMissouri,  and  that  you  had 
neither  friends  nor  enemies  out  here  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  was  the  trooper's  reply,  his  hand  still  at  the  cap 
visor. 

"  Then  how  did  you  come  to  know  that  prisoner  in  the  lot  brought 
in  by  the  sheriff?" 

Hunter  was  silent. 

"You  admit  having  seen  him  before?" 

"  I  do,  sir." 

"  Where  and  when  ?" 

"  Before  I  joined  the  regiment,  sir.  I  met  him  with  another  man 
at  Pawnee." 

Captain  Ray  was  silent  a  moment.  He  stood  scrutinizing  in  deep 
concern  the  pale,  clear-cut  face  before  him. 

"When  I  vouched  for  you  in  the  adjutant's  office  the  day  of  your 
enlistment,  I  felt  somehow  that  you  were  a  truthful  man  and  not  a 
runagate,  and  I  don't  wish  to  be  disappointed  in  you.  I  don't  want  to 
find  a  man  with  a  clouded  record  in  my  troop.  What  do  you  know 
about  that  robbery  ?" 

"  Nothing  more  than  everybody  else,  sir, — that  it  took  place,  and 
that "  but  here  again  he  hesitated. 

"  Well,  that  what,  Hunter?"  said  Captain  Ray,  noting  the  soldier's 
significant  pause. 

"Nothing  more,  sir.     I  met  one  of  the  prisoners  at  Pawnee  in  a 


490  RAY'S  RECRUIT. 

restaurant  some  few  weeks  ago.     I  never  saw  him  before,  and  I've 
never  seen  hiua  since — except  tiiat  day." 

Ray  stood  calmly  studying  his  man.  "  I  told  you  it  was  taking 
chances  to  enlist  an  applicant  who  looked  as  though  he  might  have 
been  a  man  of  high  social  standing,"  said  he,  presently,  "  and  you 
looked  me  in  the  eye  and  said  I  shouldn't  regret  taking  you  in  my 
troop.  You've  been  with  me  barely  a  week,  and  already  you  are  the 
object  of  suspicion.  How  long  will  it  be  before  I  hear  you  directly 
accused  of  something  to  make  me  deeply  regret  my  over-confidence  ?" 

Hunter  started  as  though  to  speak,  but  the  words  died  on  his  lips. 
From  the  direction  of  the  barracks  a  soldierly  step  was  swiftly  ap- 
proaching. The  turf  beneath  their  feet  began  to  light  up  with  the 
gleam  of  a  nearing  lantern.  It  was  the  first  sergeant  again,  and 
Hunter  heard  him  abruptly  halt,  true  to  the  formal  etiquette  of  the 
old  cavalry  days,  and  await  his  captain's  signal  to  approach. 

"  Remain  here  a  moment,"  said  Ray  to  his  anxious  recruit. — "  What 
is  it,  sergeant  ?" 

"  I  found  Sergeant  Merriweather,  who  was  absent  from  roll-call,  at 
his  quarters,  sir." 

Ray  frowned.  Another  instance  of  Merriweather's  falling  off  since 
his  marriage. 

"  What  excuse  had  he  for  his  absence?"  was  the  brief  question. 

"  Well,  sir,  his  wife  says  that  he  had  met  with  a  mishap, — had  a 
fall  in  the  dark.  But  it  looked  to  me  more  like  a  blow,  and  he 
couldn't  deny  it,  sir." 

"  A  blow  ?     Assaulted  ?     When,  and  by  whom  ?" 

"  Just  a  few  minutes  ago,  sir.     Close  to  his  own  door,  I  think." 

Ray's  head  went  back  with  a  jerk,  an  odd  old  trick  of  his  when 
mentally  aroused.  "He  must  know  who  did  it,  unless  he  was  struck 
from  behind.     Did  you  ask  him?" 

"  Certainly,  sir,  and  he  declares  he  didn't  see,  and  Mrs.  Merri- 
weather declares  it  was  two  men,  and  they  ran  away  towards  barracks 
the  moment  they  downed  him." 

For  a  few  seconds  the  sergeant  stood  looking  at  his  captain's  per- 
plexed face.  Then  the  recruit  suddenly  and  impulsively  stepped  for- 
ward. Before  he  could  speak.  Captain  Ray  threw  up  his  hand  in 
warning  gesture,  as  though  commanding  silence.  The  first  sergeant 
whirled  abruptly  and  stood  facing  towards  the  distant  south  gate. 
Borne  on  the  night  wind  came  a  confused  medley  of  hoarse  murmurs, 
of  distant  shouts,  of  rapid-running  feet ;  then,  from  far  out  across  the 
townward  stretch  of  prairie,  the  muffled  report  of  fire-arms,  one,  two, 
three ;  and  from  the  direction  of  the  guard-house  a  soldier  came  rush- 
ing like  a  Wyoming  gale. 

"  What  is  it,  Kid  ?"  sang  out  the  sergeant  to  the  sprinter. 

"  Sheriff  Conway — stabbed,  and  his  prisoners  loose.  They  want 
the  doctor." 

"  Why,"  said  Ray,  in  surprise,  "  what  business  could  he  have  out 
here  ?     What  does  it  mean  ?" 

"  They  were  telling  me  just  before  tattoo,  captain,  that  Conway 
came  out  with  a  warrant  for  some  one  here  at  the  fort,  but  asked  to  see 


RAF'S  RECRUIT.  491 

Prisoner  Healy,  one  of  the  two  that  escaped  the  night  of  the  train- 
robbery, — the  one  of  the  two  that  was  recaptured.  The  man  must 
have  knifed  him  and  got  away." 

"  Is  Captain  Ray  there  ?"  came  a  call  from  the  darkness,  in  the 
deep,  well-known  voice  of  the  colonel,  and  Ray  sprang  to  answer. 
Then  the  sergeant  turned  on  Trooper  Hunter. 

"  Look  here,  young  feller,"  said  he.  "  They  tell  me  you're  the 
chap  Conway  wanted." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  GENERAL  court-martial  had  convened  at  Ransom  for  the  trial 
of  such  enlisted  men  as  should  be  brought  before  it,  and  the  president 
thereof  looked  out  from  behind  his  newspaper  during  a  lull  in  the 
proceedings,  and,  with  the  characteristic  expression  which  seemed  to 
say,  "  Don't  you  dare  lie  to  me  now,"  popped  the  following  ques- 
tion : 

"  Blake,  what's  the  name  of  the  Three  Guardsmen  ?" 

And  Blake,  never  laying  down  his  paper  or  changing  a  muscle 
of  his  long,  sallow  countenance,  placidly  and  promptly  responded, 
"  Clotho,  Lachesis,  and  Atropos." 

Captain  Gregg,  sitting  at  the  right  of  the  presiding  officer,  after 
reflecting  profoundly  a  moment,  slowly  nodded,  as  though  to  say, 
"Right,  though  I  didn't  think  you  knew."  Captain  Truscott,  sitting 
opposite  Gregg  and  busily  occupied  with  a  letter,  glanced  quickly  from 
under  his  heavy  lashes  and  compressed  his  lips.  Some  of  the  young- 
sters farther  down  the  long  table  looked  a  bit  mystified ;  but  Blake's 
balance-wheel,  Captain  Ray,  was  not  a  member  of  the  court,  and 
probably  would  have  accepted  the  reply  as  authoritative  had  he  been 
there,  for  Ray  was  no  reader.  It  was  the  questioner  who  looked  dis- 
satisfied, and  the  questioner,  as  usual,  was  Mainwaring. 

For  a  moment  he  pondered,  scowling  at  Blake  the  while,  then 
outspoke : 

"  Well,  that's  all  right,  probably ;  but  what  I  want  to  get  at  is  the 
name  of  that  other  fellow  with  'em — Dee — something — how  do  you 
pronounce  it?" 

"  Depends  on  whether  you're  in  a  salon  or  a  saloon,  major," 
answered  Blake.  "  Dartauyan  in  one  case  and  Dee  Arta^nan  in 
t'other.     What  have  you  stumbled  on  now  ?" 

"  Nothing  much.  Reading  about  a  fellow  that  named  his  horse 
that  and  thinks  he's  going  to  sweep  the  race-tracks  from  Jerome  Park 
to  Jerusalem.  Dee — what  d'  you  call  him?  I  wouldn't  ride  one  of 
their  steeple-chases  on  an  English  saddle  if  you'd  give  me  a  thousand 
dollars." 

"  I  wouldn't  care  to  ride  one  on  any  other  kind ;  certainly  not  on 
one  of  our  service  saddles,"  said  Blake,  whose  long  legs  could  wrap 
around  any  horse  in  the  regiment.  "  Those  high,  sharp  pommels  are 
the  worst  kind  of  thing  to  use  'cross  country." 

"  Not  if  you  know  how  to  ride,"  said  the  major,  who  loyally  stood 


492  RAY'S  RECRUIT. 

by  everything  that  was  regulation.  "  I'll  bet  you  any  real  cavalryman 
will  tell  you  that  he'd  rather  use  a  McClellan  for  any  kind  of  riding 
than  any  other  kind  of  saddle." 

"  Done !"  said  Blake,  "  and  leave  it  to  Staunard  or  Ray."  And 
here  he  kicked  across  under  the  table  to  rouse  his  opposite  fellow- 
member  to  full  rejoicing  in  the  colloquy,  for  Mainwaring  couldn't  bear 
to  hear  Stannard  quoted  as  authority  on  any  subject,  and  was  sure  that 
Ray  was  a  vastly  overrated  officer. 

"  What  does  Stannard  know  about  it,  anyhow  ?"  bristled  Main- 
waring  :  "  he  never  rode  anything  but  a  McClellan.  And  as  for 
Ray,  I  know  a  dozen  better  riders  and  cavalrymen  who  agree  with 
me." 

"All  right.  You  come  out  to  the  hurdles  after  court  adjourns, 
major,  and  we'll  give  you  a  chance  to  see  the  difference.  That  pretty 
mare  of  Mrs.  Ray's  is  to  have  a  jumping-lesson  this  afternoon,  and 
you  can  try  both  saddles  and  systems,  if  you  like." 

But  the  re-entrance  of  the  judge-advocate  with  the  prisoner  put  a 
stop  to  the  chat,  and  Mainwaring  called  the  court  to  order. 

A  week  had  rolled  by  since  the  night  of  the  assault  on  Sergeant 
Merriweather  and  the  stabbing  of  Sheriff  Conway.  The  first  episode 
seemed  to  have  died  out  of  the  interest  of  even  the  few  who  knew  of 
it,  for  Merri weather's  lips  were  sealed,  but  the  second  was  still  the 
topic  of  excited  talk. 

And  well  it  might  be.  Armed  with  a  warrant,  so  he  claimed,  for 
the  arrest  of  certain  soldiers  of  the  garrison,  Conway  had  come  to  the 
post  about  tattoo  that  evening,  had  stopped  at  the  guard-house  and 
asked  to  see  Prisoner  Healy,  a  soldier  under  charges  of  assault  and 
robbery  of  a  fellow-trooper  only  a  few  weeks  before.  Healy  and  a 
companion  confined  as  an  accomplice  had  sawed  their  way  out  and 
escaped,  as  has  been  told,  but  the  former  was  recaptured  and  brought 
back.  He  was  a  merry  little  Irishman,  an  almost  universal  favorite 
before  the  trouble  occurred.  The  garrison  declared  to  a  man  he  couldn't 
have  had  a  hand  in  the  robbery,  though  it  was  probable  he  couldn't 
have  kept  out  of  the  assault.  But  evidence  of  a  serious  character  was 
piled  up  against  him  when  he  made  the  suspicious  attempt  to  getaway. 
Conway  was  possessed  with  the  idea  that  Healy  knew  something  about 
the  train-robbery.  No  one  could  surely  identify  any  of  the  seven 
languishing  in  Butte's  stronghold,  and  the  sheriff  was  at  his  wits'  end. 
The  officer  of  the  guard  had  gone  over  to  get  his  heavy  coat  and  to 
change  into  rough  rig  for  the  night  when  Conway  appeared,  and  an 
over-confident  sergeant,  detailing  a  sentry  to  stand  close  by,  permitted 
Healy  to  come  out  of  the  prison-room  and  be  questioned.  At  first  the 
young  Irishman  was  stubborn  and  would  tell  nothing,  but  gradually 
he  made  admissions  and  kept  glancing  fearfully  over  his  shoulder  as 
though  he  thought  the  sentry  might  hear.  So  Conway  drew  him  around 
behind  the  portico  of  the  heavy  log  structure,  and  told  the  sentry  to 
come  no  nearer :  he  would  be  responsible.  The  very  next  minute  the 
sentry  heard  a  stifled  cry,  a  scuffle.  Healy  darted  away  like  a  shot  into 
the  darkness.  The  sentry  and  the  guard  pursued  in  vain,  and  Conway 
lay  stabbed  to  the  hilt  of  a  ghastly-looking  knife.    He  had  bled  almost 


RAY'S  RECRUIT.  493 

to  death  before  the  surgeon  reached  him  or  unskilled  hands  could  check 
the  flow.  Now  he  was  lying  at  the  post  hospital,  slowly  convalescing, 
but  very  weak  and  dazed. 

The  question  was,  what  had  become  of  Healy  ?  Where  was  he  in 
hiding?  for  no  man  answering  his  description  had  boarded  the  Trans- 
continental trains  far  or  near.  Butte  was  a  big,  straggling  frontier 
town,  illimitable  in  its  future  possibilities,  said  the  "  promoters,"  and 
equally  illimitable  in  present  devices  for  concealing  stolen  property  or 
stealing  practitioners.  Butte  had  a  large  floating  population  and  small 
sinking  fund,  the  latter  devoted  to  rewards  for  capture  of  malefactors, 
and  Conway  had  a  wide-spread  reputation  for  sleepless  vigilance  and 
luckless  ventures.  He  made  many  arrests,  and  nearly  as  many  errors 
in  the  eyes  of  the  law,  since  convictions  were  few  and  far  between. 
He  had  gloried  in  his  seven  desperadoes  just  about  forty-eight  hours. 
Then,  as  man  after  man  looked  them  over  and  said  he  couldn't  testify 
against  them,  as  they  proved  to  be  perfect  strangers,  Conway's  face 
grew  lined  and  anxious.  It  began  to  look  as  though  failure  were  again 
about  to  stamp  him,  when  some  one  suggested  that  Pat  Healy  at  the 
post  could  tell  him  all  he  wanted  to  know,  and  somebody  else  whispered 
that  the  sooner  he  got  every  man  even  remotely  connected  with  the 
robbery  the  better  would  it  be  for  his  chance  of  re-election.  Then  he 
came  to  Ransom  trebly  armed,  but  his  very  first  victim  proved  far  too 
clever,  adroit,  and  dangerous.  The  knife  was  driven  furiously,  and  it 
was  God's  mercy  the  sheriff  was  not  killed  outright. 

And  then  Miss  Leroy,  the  Mainwarings'  guest,  had  developed  an 
odd  fad  for  an  Eastern  girl.  A  more  independent  young  woman  had 
never  been  seen  at  Ransom.  She  was  always  unlike  otiier  girls,  said 
Mrs.  Main  waring.  She  had  always  visited  the  poor  and  needy  at  home, 
had  headed  all  manner  of  charitable  schemes  as  a  young  girl,  and  had 
a  mania  for  reading  aloud  to  the  sick.  Few  of  the  ladies  of  the  — th, 
deeply  imbued  though  some  of  them  were  with  religious  faith,  had 
ever  thought  it  their  duty  to  visit  the  patients  in  the  big  post  hospital. 
The  surgeon  and  the  steward  did  all  that.  The  young  assistant  surgeon 
was  a  bachelor  and  susceptible.  Miss  Leroy's  plea  to  be  allowed  to 
visit  the  hospital  was  eagerly  granted,  and  he  himself  was  there  to 
escort  her.  One  of  the  first  patients  to  interest  her  was  Sheriff*  Con- 
way, to  whom  she  was  now  reading  aloud  an  hour  every  morning. 
Mild  raillery  had  no  effect  upon  her.  Expostulation  was  not  resorted 
to,  for  it  speedily  developed  that,  with  all  her  slender,  dainty  physique, 
Miss  Leroy  had  a  vigorous,  if  placid,  will  of  her  own.  The  post 
surgeon  had  said  there  was  no  harm  whatever,  in  fact  it  was  a  blessing 
to  more  patients  than  one,  therefore  by  all  means  let  Miss  Leroy  keep 
it  up.  Thereafter  there  was  no  one  to  say  her  nay.  Secretly  Mrs. 
Main  waring  had  hoped  the  colonel  and  her  husband  would  express 
disapproval,  but,  with  the  perversity  of  their  sex,  they  persisted  in 
saying  to  Miss  Leroy  that  she  was  an  angel  of  goodness,  and  it  was  a 
wonder  that  other  women  had  not  done  likewise  long  before.  By  the 
time  she  had  been  three  weeks  at  Ransom  Kate  Leroy  was  better  known 
and  infinitely  better  loved  in  the  quarters  of  the  married  soldiers  whose 
little  ones  were  ailing,  and  in  the  wards  of  the  big  hospital,  than  all 


494  RAY'S  RECRUIT. 

but  two  or  three  of  the  ladies  of"  tlie  regiment.  It  was  a  new  departure 
at  the  post. 

Day  after  day,  then,  was  she  to  be  seen,  each  morning  about  ten 
o'cloci^,  on  her  way  to  her  patients,  and  with  them  she  would  stay  until 
orderly  call  sounded  at  noon.  There  were  four  men  in  hospital  when 
she  began  ;  there  were  seven  men  at  the  end  of  the  week,  and  the 
doctor  said  she  was  making  it  too  attractive  a  place  after  all. 

"Next  thing,"  said  Wilkins,  "she'll  be  after  beatifying  the  gyard- 
house." 

Mrs.  Mainwaring  found  that  telling  her  niece  what  people  said 
about  this  fad  of  hers  had  no  effect  whatever.  So  she  went  a  bit  fur- 
ther, and  told  her  things  people  really  had  not  said,  but  might  say : 
this,  too,  fell  harmless.  Afternoons  and  evenings  Miss  Leroy  was 
ready  to  devote  to  social  duties  and  Mrs.  Mainwaring,  but  the  morning 
readings  to  the  men  in  the  convalescent  ward  went  on  without  inter- 
ruption or  noteworthy  incident  an  entire  week  ;  then  came  a  change  in 
the  arrangement. 

True  to  his  colors,  Mainwaring  was  out  at  the  hurdles  ten  minutes 
before  anybody  else  that  afternoon,  and  loudly  calling  for  Blake  to 
come  and  make  good  his  word.  He  came  soon  enough,  Mrs.  Ray  and 
Mrs.  Blake,  two  charming  women,  with  him.  Presently  out  rode 
Captain  Billy  on  his  old  favorite  "  Dandy,"  now  a  sedate  steed  over 
ten  years  of  age ;  after  him  strode  his  Irish  groom  Hogan,  leading  a 
beautiful  little  bay  mare,  all  points  and  elasticity,  a  spirited,  dancing 
creature,  with  dainty  head  and  legs,  brilliant  eyes,  pretty  pointed  ears, 
and  a  satin  coat  that  fairly  glistened.  The  hurdles  were  at  the  edge 
of  the  drill-ground  on  the  northeast  side  of  the  post,  and  no  sooner 
was  the  party  sighted  from  the  barracks  than  a  number  of  troopers 
made  their  way  to  the  fence,  and,  with  appreciative  eyes,  stood  watching 
at  respectful  distance  the  preparation  for  Stella's  first  lesson  with  side- 
saddle and  skirt. 

Among  the  men  was  Sergeant  Merri weather,  still  discolored  as  to 
his  face,  but  an  interested  spectator  for  all  that.  Mainwaring,  Ray, 
and  Blake  were  in  riding  dress,  Mainwaring  and  Ray  in  saddle,  and 
Mainwaring's  first  bellow  was,  "  Now,  where's  your  English  saddle?" 

"  Coming,"  said  Blake,  coolly,  and  pointed  towards  the  stables, 
whence,  at  easy  gait,  a  tall,  slender  soldier  came  riding  a  troop  horse, 
carrying  something  over  his  arm.  Blake  recognized  at  once  Ray's 
recent  acquisition,  Hunter.  Mainwaring  stopped  glaring  at  Blake, 
turned  and  gazed  at  the  new-comer  witii  all  his  eyes,  and  then  whirled 
in  saddle  towards  Ray  and  ejaculated,  "  Well,  I'll  be  damned  !"  There 
were  times  when  even  the  presence  of  ladies  couldn't  restrain  Main- 
waring's impulse  to  verbal  outbreaks. 

"  Thought  you  had  a  whole  troop  of  rough  riders,  Ray,"  said  he, 
after  again  glowering  at  the  new-comer  until  he  grew  tired  of  the  calm 
indifference  which  rewarded  his  gaze.  "  This  ain't  one  of  your  lot,  is 
it?     I've  seen  him  before." 

"  Yes,  the  day  you  persuaded  him  not  to  enlist,"  laughed  Ray, 
good-naturedly.  "  I  roped  him  in  afterwards."  Then,  lowering  his 
voice,  "  He's  got  a  hand  on  a  horse's  mouth  as  light  as  a  child's." 


RAY'S  RECRUIT.  495 

The  tall  recruit  had  dismounted  from  his  own  troop-horse,  and, 
having  thrown  the  reins  over  a  picket  of  the  fence,  was  now  quietly 
approaching  Stella,  with  a  light  English  saddle  in  his  hand.  Hogan, 
dismounted,  was  petting  her  glossy  neck  and  speaking  soothingly,  but 
the  pretty  creature,  with  ears  erect,  was  switching  about,  apparently 
hunting  for  something  at  which  to  shy,  and  the  ladies'  furs  gave  her 
ready  excuse.  The  moment  Mrs.  Ray  stepped  forward  to  pat  her, 
Stella  backed  vigorously,  dragging  Hogan  with  her,  and,  despite  Ray's 
practised  hand  extended  to  aid,  back  she  persisted  in  going  until  she 
bumped  into  the  hurdle-post.  This  furnished  excuse  for  a  kick  and  a 
plunge.  Ray  sprang  from  his  saddle,  and,  telling  Hogan  to  look  after 
Dandy,  himself  took  Stella's  bit  and  began  Blue  Grass  expostulation, 
which  seemed  more  intelligible  than  Irish.  At  all  events,  the  mettle- 
some creature  quieted  down  long  enough  to  admit  of  Hunter's  approach, 
and  that  tall,  silent  young  soldier  quickly  set  and  girthed  the  saddle, 
and  then,  at  a  nod  from  his  caj)tain,  vaulted  on  her  back,  Ray  letting 
go  the  moment  the  reins  were  gathered. 

And  then  did  Stella  dance  nimbly,  daintily  about,  playful  and 
spirited,  but  not  in  the  least  vicious,  Hunter  giving  her  head  abundant 
room  to  toss,  and  maintaining  only  light  and  easy  pressure  on  the  bit. 
Mainwaring  sniffed  disdainfully  at  tlie  uncavalrylike  pose,  the  long, 
flat  seat,  the  knees  far  to  the  front,  the  feet  set  home  in  the  stirrups 
and  away  forward.  He  sniifed  still  more  when  Stella  began  to  bound 
and  curvet,  and  Hunter  rose  slightly  in  his  stirrups,  riding  lightly,  spring- 
ingly,  and  never  thinking  of  sitting  fast.  Ray  called  to  Merriweather 
to  bring  one  or  two  men  and  come  over  to  the  hurdles,  and,  without  an 
audible  word,  the  order  was  obeyed,  though  it  was  remarked  at  the  time 
that  the  sergeant  hesitated  a  bit,  possibly  because  of  his  disfigured  face. 

"Try  her  over  the  bar  first,  Ray,"  said  Mainwaring.  And,  with 
a  man  stationed  at  each  post  and  the  bar  set  easily  nearly  three  feet 
from  the  ground,  Hunter  guided  his  pretty  mount  to  the  spot,  let  her 
sniff  at  and  examine  the  strange  affair,  then  as  quietly  rode  her  a  dozen 
yards  away,  turned  her  head  to  the  bar,  and,  relaxing  the  reins,  gave 
her  the  hint  to  go,  his  long  sinewy  legs  close  pressed  to  the  saddle. 
Stella  came  at  it  delightedly,  but  changed  her  mind  with  the  second 
stride,  and  would  have  flown  the  track  but  for  the  firm  hand  and  closed 
leg.  Finding  she  couldn't  dodge  and  had  to  do  it,  she  rose  high,  and, 
half  affrighted,  cleared  the  bar  and  came  bounding  lightly  to  the  turf, 
then  bolted  away  with  blood  in  her  eye  and  the  bit  in  her  teeth.  Only 
a  few  rods,  however.  Hunter,  sitting  her  like  wax  now,  reined  her 
round  in  broad  circle,  headed  her  back  for  the  group,  gradually  check- 
ing her  speed  as  he  neared  the  party. 

"  Try  it  from  that  side,"  said  Ray,  and  over  she  popped,  light  as  a 
bird.  A  third  and  a  fourth  time  was  the  leap  repeated,  Stella  enjoying 
being  the  centre  of  attraction  and  improving  on  her  efforts.  Then 
came  the  attempt  at  the  wider  hurdle,  a  man  being  stationed  at  each 
end  to  give  her  the  idea  of  posts  between  which  she  must  jump  :  this, 
too,  proved  a  bagatelle.  And  all  this  time  Hunter  had  never  opened 
his  lips  to  speak.  Now,  in  obedience  to  the  captain's  signal,  the 
trooper  reined  up  close  to  him. 


496  RAY'S  RECRUIT. 

"What  do  you  think  of  her  jumping?"  asked  Ray. 

"  She  has  been  well  taught,  sir,"  was  the  answer,  in  low,  quiet  tone. 
"  I  think  she  will  give  Mrs.  Ray  little  trouble ;  but  she  has  never  been 
ridden  with  the  side-saddle  and  skirt,  I  understand." 

No,  she  had  not.  Hogan  produced  the  side-saddle  and  a  cavalry 
blanket.  In  two  minutes  the  mare  was  housed  in  the  one  and  Hunter 
rolled,  as  to  his  legs,  in  the  other.  This  time  mounting  was  not  so 
easy.  Stella  despised  that  blanket  and  would  not  suffer  it  to  come 
near  her,  and  that  blanket  was  to  be  tried  in  lieu  of  a  riding-skirt, 
Mainwaring  sat  on  his  horse,  shouting  all  manner  of  suggestions, 
sorely  trying  Ray's  sense  of  subordination.  At  last,  impatiently,  he 
hazarded  the  remark,  "  Phoo,  Ray !  that  man  can't  ride.  There's  a 
dozen  men  in  my  old  troop  would  have  had  her  over  the  hurdle, 
blanket  and  all,  by  this  time." 

The  blood  rushed  to  Hunter's  face,  and  he  bit  his  lip  hard.  Thus 
far  Ray  had  been  holding  the  mare's  head  by  the  bit, — a  hub,  so  to 
speak,  about  which  she  circled,  first  one  way,  then  the  other,  to  dodge 
the  blanket-swathed  form.     Now  the  trooper  was  heard  to  speak. 

"Pardon  me,  captain,  but  may  I  take  her  myself?" 

Instantly  the  two  ladies  exchanged  a  glance.  "I  told  you  he 
looked  like  a  gentleman,"  said  Mrs.  Ray,  in  low  tone. 

Then  began  a  very  pretty  piece  of  coaxing.  With  one  firm  hand 
at  the  bit,  the  blanket  still  strapped  about  his  waist.  Trooper  Hunter 
had  managed  to  reach  Stella's  neck  with  his  right  hand,  and,  patting 
her  softly,  was  murmuring  gently.  "  Makin'  love  to  her  in  Irish," 
Hogan  muttered  to  Duiiy.  Several  additions  had  been  made  to  the 
group  by  this  time.  The  colonel,  Dana  by  his  side  and  followed  by 
his  orderly,  came  riding  around  from  the  direction  of  the  stables,  and, 
doffing  his  cap  to  the  ladies,  sat  in  saddle  an  interested  spectator. 
Several  Avives  and  children  of  the  soldiers  had  been  attracted  from 
their  quarters  to  the  fence,  while  a  little  farther  buck,  aloof  from  the 
general  run  of  Sudstown  people,  with  a  pale-blue  shawl,  one  of  Mrs. 
Freeman's  discarded  evening  wraps,  over  her  head,  pretty  Mrs,  Merri- 
weather  stood  at  gaze.  Hunter  slowly  lifted  an  edge  of  the  blanket 
and  let  Stella  nose  it,  which  she  did,  feigned  to  be  much  frightened, 
and  attempted  again  to  pull  away.  But  at  last,  wearying  of  fruitless 
efforts,  she  consented  to  smell  of  it,  and  then  nudged  it  disdainfully 
aside.  The  next  thing  she  knew.  Hunter  had  slipped  both  hands  back, 
one  to  the  pommel,  the  other  to  her  mane,  and  with  agile  spring 
alighted  on  the  saddle,  threw  the  right  leg  over  the  horn,  and,  despite 
her  plunging,  Stella  found  herself  once  more  under  his  weight,  firmly 
held  as  ever.  Five  minutes'  petting  made  her  forget  her  burden,  even 
when  shown  the  shadow  of  the  skirt.  In  less  than  ten  she  had  leaped 
the  hurdle  to  and  fro  half  a  dozen  times,  and  was  realizing  she  had 
made  a  fool  of  herself.  And  then  some  unhallowed  inspiration  seized 
the  major. 

"  What  I  v.^ant  is  to  see  how  she'll  behave  under  a  cavalry  saddle. 
— You've  ridden  one  often  enough,  I  suppose?"  he  said,  scowling  at 
Hunter. 

"  Never  until  I  came  here,  sir." 


RAV'S  RECRUIT.  497 

"  Mean  to  tell  me  you've  never  been  in  the  cavalry?" 

"  I  told  the  major  as  much  a  fortnight  ago,"  was  the  firm  yet 
respectful  reply. 

"  Well,  where'd  you  learn  to  ride,  then  ?"  asked  Mainwaring,  who 
had  a  fixed  idea  that  no  one  not  of  the  cavalry  could  be  at  home  in  the 
saddle;  this,  too,  despite  long  years  among  vaqueros,  Comanches,  and 
cowboys. 

"  I  learned  to  ride  as  a  boy,  sir." 

"  Well,  dismount  and  put  on  that  McClellan  saddle,"  said  Main- 
waring,  curtly. 

Atherton  heard  the  order,  saw  the  quick  glance  of  the  soldier 
towards  his  captain,  and  the  half-vexed  expression  in  Ray's  face,  and, 
glancing  at  Mrs.  Hay,  hesitated  no  longer. 

"  No,  no,  major,  don't  change  the  saddle.  Let  us  see  how  she'll 
take  the  bar  again.  Set  it  loosely,  you  men,  so  that  it  will  slide  off 
the  pegs  if  she  strikes." 

Sergeant  Merriweather  was  busily  setting  the  peg  at  three  feet 
again,  when,  glancing  up  to  see  that  the  opposite  end  was  at  the  same 
notch,  he  caught  sight  of  the  slender  figure  of  his  wife  standing  well 
back  of  the  group  at  the  fence,  her  eyes  fixed,  not  on  him  or  on  the 
ladies,  but,  with  deep,  intense  interest  in  her  gaze,  upon  the  tall,  erect 
young  soldier  on  the  spirited  mare.  Up  to  this  moment  Merriweather 
had  been  silently  carrying  out  his  instructions,  all  his  attention  given 
to  them  or  to  Stella.  Of  the  man  in  saddle  he  took  apj)arentTy  no 
notice  whatever.  Now,  forgetting  everything  else  in  hand,  he  stood 
there,  half  bent  over,  gazing,  with  heaven  only  knows  what  thoughts 
surging  through  his  brain,  straight  and  steadfast  at  his  unconscious  wife. 

"Sergeant,  don't  you  hear?"  At  last  the  impatient  words  seemed 
to  reach  him,  and  the  flustered  face  of  his  comrade  at  the  opposite  post 
recalled  him  to  himself.  "  The  captain  says  set  it  at  three  feet  six. 
Quick !     She's  coming." 

Coming  she  was,  with  a  rush,  Hunter's  hands  held  low  on  her 
withers,  his  legs  dangling  on  the  near  side  as  she  bounded  over  the 
springy  turf.  Merriweather  jerked  out  the  iron  })eg  and  thrust  it  into 
the  three-six  hole,  lifting  the  bar  as  he  did  so,  but  turning  the  hook  of 
the  pin  upward  instead  of  down.  It  was  no  leap  at  all.  There  was  no 
reason  why  she  should  strike,  no  reason  why,  if  she  did  strike,  any 
harm  would  occur.  But  it  was  all  done  in  a  second  of  time.  Sitting 
sideways,  instead  of  astride,  Hunter  was  at  a  disadvantage.  He  could 
not  "  lift  her"  as  he  was  accustomed.  The  excited  creature  dashed  at 
the  bar  as  though  reckless  of  its  added  height;  the  off  forefoot  struck 
the  tough,  unyielding  wood,  tripped  her,  threw  her  headlong  on  the 
turf,  hurling  Hunter,  blanket,  and  herself  in  a  confused  and  rolling 
heap.  A  woman's  shriek  went  up  at  the  instant,  but  it  came  not  from 
the  lips  of  the  women  on  the  field. 

It  seemed  but  another  instant  before  Hunter  was  on  his  feet,  reins 
in  hand,  while  Stella  was  struggling  to  rise.  Forgetful  of  himself,  he 
sought  to  see  if  the  mare  were  harmed.  Ray  and  Hogan  sprang  to 
his  side.  "  Are  you  hurt,  man  ?"  they  eagerly  asked,  but  he  laughed 
it  off. 

YoL.  LIX.— 32 


498  RAY'S  RECRUIT. 

"  Not  at  all,  sir.     I'm  only  troubled  about  her." 

Panting,  wide-eyed,  and  startled,  Stella  stood,  with  heaving  flanks, 
wondering  what  it  all  meant.  Ray  hastened  to  reassure  his  wife. 
Atherton  rode  up  to  satisfy  himself  the  soldier  was  uninjured.  Over 
beyond  the  roadway  and  fence  two  of  the  laundresses  were  leading 
Mrs.  Merriweather,  shocked  and  actually  weeping,  away.  At  them 
the  sergeant  stood  gazing  fixedly,  his  discolored  face  working  with 
passion,  and  Captain  Blake  had  twice  to  bid  him  pick  up  the  bar 
before  he  answered  and  obeyed. 

"  That's  what  you  call  a  stand-oif,  I  suppose,"  muttered  the  man 
at  the  opposite  post,  as  Merriweather  brushed  him  by.  "  Don't  tell 
me  I  don't  know  who  floored  you."  But  the  sergeant  never  heard. 
He  was  hastening  after  his  wife. 

"  Ray,"  said  the  colonel  as  they  were  riding  into  the  garrison  a  few 
minutes  later,  "  tliat  was  a  piece  of  gross  carelessness  on  the  part  of 
your  sergeant.  That  man  has  been  getting  less  reliable  every  month 
for  the  last  two  years.  You'd  better  think  twice  should  he  apply  for 
re-enlistment." 

"  Gerald,"  said  clear-sighted  Mrs.  Blake,  as  she  clung  to  the  arm 
of  the  captain,  after  leaving  Mrs.  Ray  at  her  gate,  "  I'm  glad  that 
didn't  happen  in  your  troop.  Are  you  sure  Sergeant  Merriweather  set 
that  pin  properly?     Wasn't  it  his  wife  that  shrieked?" 

"  Pet,"  said  Mrs.  Main  waring  to  her  niece,  just  as  the  young  doctor 
lifted  his  cap  and  looked  for  an  invitation  to  enter,  as  he  met  the  two 
ladies  returning  from  a  call  at  the  Rays'  an  hour  later,  "  you  and  Dr. 
Jayne  came  near  getting  another  patient  this  afternoon,  and  a  most 
interesting  one,  they  say,  a  mysterious  swell  in  the  Sorrels.  He  might 
serve  to  make  you  forget  the  handsome  unknown  who  played  doctor 
for  you  the  night  of  the  collision. — She  hasn't  told  you  about  that,  I 
suppose,  has  she,  doctor?" 

"'M — ah,  no,  no  indeed,"  said  Dr.  Jayne,  in  evident  dismay. 
"  What  was  he  like,  pray  ?" 

"  Oh,  divinely  tall  and  most  divinely  fair,"  said  Mrs.  Mainwaring, 
laughing.  "Kate  has  his  flask  and  handkerchief  yet,  waiting  for  him 
to  return  and  claim  them — and  her." 

And  that  evening  Miss  Leroy  wondered  whether  aunts  were  always 
so  disagreeable,  or  whether  this  was  merely  her  own  fault,  and  entirely 
her  fault,  because  she  had  admitted  that,  though  there  were  agreeable 
men  in  the  regiment,  they  were  all  married. 


CHAPTER   IX. 


Conway,  convalescing,  had  been  bundled  back  to  town,  leaving 
blessings  on  the  head  of  his  fair  nurse  and  reader.  Corporal  Shannon, 
kicked  by  a  mule  in  the  quartermaster's  corral,  was  installed  in  his 
place.  The  daily  reading  was  going  on  in  the  hospital,  despite  social 
duties  that  grew  more  exacting  as  Miss  Leroy  became  better  known 
and  more  appreciated.     Over  in  the  sorrel  troop's  quarters  Hunter, 


RAY'S  RECRUIT.  499 

despite  inflexible  reserve  as  to  his  past,  had  won  the  good  will  of  most 
of  the  men.  Qiiin,  a  garrison  bully,  pitching  upon  a  smaller  comrade 
for  a  fancied  aifront,  had  been  himself  pitched  into  a  snow-drift,  and 
when  he  rushed  at  his  antagonist  was  floored  flat  by  as  neat  a  swing  on 
the  jaw  as  ever  the  — th  had  heard  of.  It  was  a  new  blow,  in  fact,  to 
the  regiment,  and  the  story  went  from  barrack  to  barrack  that  the 
Sorrels  had  got  a  swell  boxer  as  well  as  rider.  Curiosity  as  to  Hunter's 
antecedents  burst  all  bounds.  Major  Main  war ing's  assertion  that  he 
had  seen  the  fellow  somewhere  before  and  knew  he  must  be  a  deserter 
was  sufficient  to  make  the  recruit  an  object  of  interest  in  garrison 
society,  even  if  he  had  not  won  distinction  as  trainer  of  Mrs.  Ray's 
beautiful  mare,  whose  delicate  mouth  and  Eastern  schooling  made  her 
somewhat  too  sensitive  for  ordinary  cavalry  handling.  Ray,  once  the 
light  rider  of  the  regiment,  could  have  coached  her  beautifully,  but 
Ray  was  growing  bulky  with  years,  and  an  old  bullet-wound  in  the 
thigh,  received  during  a  Sioux  campaign  years  before,  was  troubling 
him  as  winter  wore  on.  What  no  one  understood  was  how  Ray  came 
to  select  Hunter,  for  Ray  declared  he  had  no  previous  knowledge  of 
him  whatever,  which  was  true.  Truscott,  when  appealed  to  for  his 
opinion,  smiled  gravely,  as  was  his  wont,  and  said  Ray  had  as  unerring 
an  eye  for  a  horseman  as  he  had  for  a  horse.  But  it  was  in  "  Suds- 
town,"  where  dwelt  the  wives  and  daughters  of  the  soldiery,  that 
Trooper  Hunter's  goings  and  comings,  doings  and  sayings,  were  be- 
coming matters  of  such  absorbing  interest.  He  was  credited  with 
being  fabulously  wealthy,  among  other  things,  for  he  certainly  had 
money  at  his  command.  He  also  had  friends  and  acquaintances — some 
said  a  wife  and  family,  or  at  least  a  lady-love — somewhere  in  town, 
for  he  had  twice  asked  for  passes,  and  more  than  once  was  believed  to 
have  gone  thither  without  that  formality.  Mrs.  Merriweather,  who 
held  her  head  so  high  above  the  other  women,  was  accused  of  "setting 
her  cap"  for  the  stranger,  and  she  laid  herself  open  to  calumny  by  de- 
claring to  one  or  two  envious  dames  that  Mr.  Hunter  was  a  frequent 
caller,  only  "Dan"  didn't  like  it  and  had  warned  him  off.  "Indeed, 
he  got  to  coming  too  often  for  his  own  good,"  said  she,  which  meant 
worlds  of  helpless  regret  on  her  part. 

Men  sought  the  confidence  of  the  new  soldier,  but  gave  it  up  in 
ignorance  as  deep  as  that  with  which  they  came  to  him.  Some  he 
laughed  at,  some  he  snubbed,  none  he  gratified.  It  was  fortunate  he 
knew  how  to  fight,  for  there  were  evil  spirits  that  would  have  mauled 
him  otherwise  on  general  principles,  but  Ray  kept  a  sharp  lookout  for 
his  protege.  He,  at  least,  should  have  fair  play,  despite  the  hints  of 
the  first  sergeant  that  Conway  could  tell  something  about  him,  and  had 
even  asked  him,  Sergeant  Fellows,  where  he  could  find  Hunter  the 
night  he  came  out  with  a  warrant  and  was  knifed  by  Healy.  Ray 
rode  to  town  and  demanded  of  Conway  what  he  knew  or  suspected, 
and  Conway  said,  "  Nothing ;  at  least  nothing  that  I  could  prove." 
Ray  had  flouted  the  idea  of  Hunter's  being  connected  in  any  way  with 
the  train-robbers  :  indeed,  it  was  doubtful  if  the  leaders  would  ever  be 
caught.  They  were  lost  to  all  search,  deep  in  the  Hills,  and  their 
luckless  accomplices  were  still  held  awaiting  the  action  of  some  Federal 


500  RAF'S  RECRUIT. 

official  yet  to  arrive.  Stannard  and  Main  waring  had  had  almost  an 
open  rupture,  all  on  account  of  Hunter,  who,  daily  exercising  and  train- 
ing Mrs.  Ray's  pretty  Stella,  was,  nevertheless,  performing  all  other 
duties  with  his  troop.  Mainwaring,  noting  how  successful  Hunter  had 
been  with  Stella,  concluded  that  he  should  like  to  have  him  try  his 
hand  on  Velvet,  Mrs.  Mainwaring's  saddler,  who  had  never  been 
known  to  jump,  and  was  confounded  when  the  trooper  most  respect- 
fully but  positively  begged  to  be  excused.  Atherton  was  away,  sum- 
moned to  meet  the  department  commander  at  Pawnee.  Stannard  was 
in  temporary  command.  Mainwaring  asked  that  the  trooper  should 
be  directed  to  perform  duty  for  him,  for  which  he  was  perfectly  willing 
to  pay,  or  else  be  ordered  to  cease  doing  it  for  Ray.  Stannard  said  no 
soldier  could  be  compelled  to  perform  menial  service  for  any  officer  if 
he  didn't  wish  to,  and  if  he  did  not  wish  to  train  Mrs.  Mainwaring's 
horse  he  should  not  be  made  to.  Mainwaring  declared  training  horses 
could  not  be  menial  service  in  the  eyes  of  a  true  cavalryman,  and 
Stannard  said  that  it  was  if  a  man  thought  so.  Mainwaring  got  very 
wroth,  and  swore  that  between  them,  Stannard  and  Blake  and  Ray, 
they  were  bound  to  spoil  a  man  who  gave  promise  of  being  a  good 
soldier,  despite  his  shadowy  antecedents,  and  again  demanded  that  he 
be  ordered  to  cease  handling  Stella  for  Ray.  Stannard  said  he  only 
did  it  for  the  love  of  the  thing,  for  practice  and  recreation,  and  not  for 
emolument,  and  he  should  not  be  denied.  Then  Atherton  came  back  ; 
Mainwaring  appealed  to  him  from  Stannard's  decision,  and  Atherton 
said  he'd  investigate  and  decide  next  morning. 

But  it  was  decided  for  him  that  night. 

"  Ray,"  said  he,  at  evening  stables,  "  whoever  set  that  huge  hay- 
stack so  close  to  the  stables  had  no  idea  of  prudence.  If  it  were  to 
catch  fire  your  premises  would  go.  I  shall  order  it  removed  to- 
morrow." 

Sergeant  Merriweather,  stable  sergeant  of  the  troop  up  to  a  week 
before,  heard  these  words,  and  so  did  Sergeant  Conro,  to  whom  he  was 
pointing  out  certain  defects  in  the  mechanism  of  a  grain-chute  from 
the  loft  above  their  heads.  It  was  storming,  and  grooming  was  being 
conducted  inside.  Merriweather  stopped  short  in  his  explanation, 
stared  at  the  colonel  as  though  the  words  had  dazed  him  in  some  way, 
and  then  had  to  be  reminded  of  the  subject  which  he  was  discussing. 

The  wind  that  had  banked  the  snow-clouds  in  the  southeast  during 
the  day  veered  towards  nightfall  and  blew  strong  from  the  southwest. 
At  tattoo  it  was  whisking  the  hay  from  the  quartermaster's  corral  and 
sending  it  streaming  across  the  line  of  stables  and  out  upon  the  bleak 
prairie,  while,  still  farther  along,  under  the  "  bench,"  the  big  hay-stacks 
beyond  the  corral  seemed  stripping  in  the  gale,  and  the  biggest  of  all 
was  that  which  projected  half-way  across  the  open  space  in  front  of  the 
line  of  gable-ends  and  just  opposite  that  of  Ray's  troop.  At  tattoo  the 
gale  was  almost  a  blizzard,  and  Atherton,  ever  on  the  defensive  against 
fires,  bade  the  troop  officers  look  well  to  their  company  kitchens  and 
see  that  all  the  ranges  and  stoves  were  securely  banked,  then  went  over 
to  the  guard-house  in  person  and  held  brief  consultation  with  Blake, 
who  was  officer  of  the  day,  and  his  officer  of  the  guard,  who,  as  ill 


RAY'S  RECRUIT.  501 

luck  would  have  it,  was  Lieutenant  Brady,  at  whom  Atherton  looked 
with  scant  favor.  He  was  a  young  man  whom  Blake  described  as 
"  one  of  the  detriments  of  the  service."  He  had  been  fairly  well 
educated  somewhere,  had  enlisted  when  it  was  too  evident  he  was  in 
no  condition  to  make  a  living  otherwise,  but  that  was  in  the  summer 
of  '76,  when  twenty-five  hundred  men  were  suddenly  raised  by  Con- 
gress to  fill  the  gaps  in  the  regiments  engaged  in  the  Sioux  war,  and 
the  riff-raff  of  the  Atlantic  cities  was  rushed  to  the  frontier.  He  won 
a  company  clerkship  in  three  months,  which  was  considered  immense 
good  luck,  and  lost  it  within  the  year,  which  was  supposed  to  be  luck 
as  bad,  but  turned  out  to  be  the  stepping-stone  to  fortune  in  the 
soldier's  eyes.  He  was  one  of  an  escort  attacked  by  road  agents,  and, 
in  fighting  desperately  for  his  own  life,  had  saved  that  of  the  pay- 
master. The  sergeant  and  corporal  with  them  were  killed.  Brady 
was  "  lanced"  on  the  spot  and  came  home  a  hero,  the  subject  of  a  pane- 
gyric from  the  pen  of  the  paymaster,  whose  uncle  was  a  Senator  of 
much  wealth  and  much  knowledge  of  mining,  but  little  of  men.  He 
was  on  the  paymaster's  bond  for  a  big  sum,  and  the  next  thing  the 
— th  knew  a  stranger  to  their  ranks  appeared  with  a  commission  as 
second  lieutenant,  a  glib  tongue  and  a  convivial  turn,  plenty  of  money 
to  start  with,  and  a  letter  of  introduction  to  Atherton  from  a  famous 
war  general,  which  letter  was  susceptible  of  two  interpretations  and 
was  written,  there  was  little  doubt,  at  the  instance  of  the  Senator  in 
question,  a  prominent  member  of  the  committee  on  military  affairs. 
"This  will  be  handed  you  by  Lieutenant  Brady,"  said  the  letter, 
"  who  so  distinguished  himself  in  the  affair  on  the  Mirabres  last  year. 
The  department  thought  best  to  assign  him  to  the  — th,  and  I  have 
assured  his  friends  that  in  consigning  him  to  you  I  have  placed  him  in 
the  best  hands  possible."  Senator  Sivright  was  thoroughly  satisfied,  his 
nephew  the  paymaster  a  bit  perplexed,  but  too  wise  just  then  to  dissect 
any  other  man's  motives  or  letters,  lest  his  own  should  become  objects 
of  scrutiny.  Brady  proved  a  jolly  acquisition  at  first,  could  sing  a 
good  song,  tell  a  good  story,  and  was  "  smart"  in  many  ways  and  lavish 
in  all.  There  was  a  story  (put  in  circulation  by  a  soldier  whose  reward 
for  that  Mimbres  affair  had  been  a  discharge  and  not  a  commission) 
to  the  effect  that  when  they  were  suddenly  attacked  by  those  despera- 
does the  paymaster  had  crawled  under  the  wagon  and  cried,  and  Brady 
"allowed"  when  in  his  cups  that  he  could  tell  things,  and  would  if  not 
"  properly  persuaded."  Certain  it  is  that  for  the  first  year  of  his  service 
Brady  spent  and  drank  more  than  a  second  lieutenant's  share.  Then 
the  Senator  failed  of  re-election,  owing  possibly  to  some  shortcomings 
in  his  mines;  his  nephew,  the  paymaster,  succeeded  in  planning  a 
robbery  that  worked  better ;  and  this  opened  the  stagnant  flow  of  pro- 
motion in  the  pay  corps,  and  left  Brady  without  a  protector. 

But  he  held  a  life  office,  if  he  behaved  himself,  and,  being  a 
bachelor  in  a  regiment  that  spent  most  of  its  days  in  the  inexpensive 
luxuries  of  field-service,  he  had  managed  to  pay  his  debts  and,  so  long 
as  he  let  whiskey  alone,  keep  out  of  serious  trouble.  But  Brady  and 
John  Barleycorn  never  "connected"  that  the  former  did  not,  as  Blake 
said,  make  an  ass  of  himself,  and  his  asininity  took  shape  in  a  peculiar 


502  RAY'S  RECRUIT. 

form  of  mania  that  afflicts  the  bibulous  Hibernian. — that  of  imagining, 
believing,  and  telling  tales  of  deep  and  bloody  mystery  at  the  expense 
of  his  lellow-men  in  higher  social  esteem  than  himself.  Friends 
Brady  had  few,  enemies  none  worse  than  himself.  He  felt  the  isola- 
tion of  his  lot,  wanted  to  marry,  and  was  refused  by  the  girls  he 
wanted,  which  made  him  gloomier,  but  campaign  work  saved  him  from 
the  solace  he  would  have  sought,  and  Brady  had  been  doing  fairly 
well,  for  him,  when  Rawson  returned  from  leave  and  gave  him  a  crony 
and  an  excuse  for  a  start.  Atherton  whisked  the  crony  off,  as  has  been 
said,  before  much  mischief  was  done,  but  he  could  not  banish  the 
whiskey,  and  Brady  marched  on  guard  the  morning  of  this  eventful 
day,  looking  much  the  worse  for  three  weeks'  wear  and  tear  and  little 
the  better  for  two  strong  cocktails. 

Still,  he  was  not  incapable  of  performing  his  duty,  by  any  means, 
though  eyes  and  nose  held  out  their  danger-signals.  Blake  had  given 
him  a  sharp  reminder  at  retreat,  and  Brady  had  taken  a  stiffer  brace 
for  fear  of  consequences.  He  was  feeling  shaky  wiien  the  colonel 
strode  into  the  ill-lighted  room  of  the  officer  of  the  guard,  Blake  at 
his  heels,  and  thus  addressed  him  :  "  Mr.  Brady,  I  want  you  to  keep  a 
special  watch  against  fire  to-night.  Order  your  sentries  about  the 
stacks  and  stables  to  allow  no  one  to  approach  them  with  pipe  or  cigar. 
Who  are  sentries  on  Numbers  5  and  6  ?" 

Brady  looked  appealingly  at  the  sergeant,  who  quickly  pi'oduced 
his  lists.  "Reinhardt  and  Monahan,  first  relief;  Blair  and  Scully 
second  ;  Duffy  and  Hunter  third,  sir.     All  good  men,  sir." 

"  Hunter's  our  new  man,"  said  the  colonel,  eying  sharply  the  officer 
of  the  guard.     "Have  you  given  him  personally  his  orders?"' 

"  N — not  his  night  orders  as  yet,  sir,"  said  Brady,  well  knowing 
he  had  questioned  him  as  to  none  of  them,  day  or  night. 

"Well,  sir,"  said  Atherton,  "you  cannot  be  too  vigilant  to-night. 
Make  frequent  inspections,  and  see  that  your  non-commissioned  officers 
do  likewise."  Then,  as  once  more  he  got  out  into  the  wind,  he  bent 
his  head  to  avoid  the  blast.  "  Have  you  cautioned  him,  Blake  ?  He 
looks  anything  but  alert." 

"  I  don't  think  he's  been  drinking  much  to-day,  sir.  He  seems  to 
realize  that  he  can  take  no  chances.     I'll  keep  an  eye  on  him." 

There  was  a  joyous  little  gathering  at  Ray's  that  night.  The 
Mainwarings,  Truscotts,  and  Blakes,  with  devoted  Dr.  Jayne  on  Miss 
Leroy's  account,  had  dined  there  ;  a  number  of  post  people  had  dropped 
in  later,  and  Miss  Leroy,  "  looking  uncommonly  well,  if  not  absolutely 
pretty,"  said  a  lady  friend,  was  being  made  much  of  by  everybody, 
despite  a  slight  propensity  on  the  part  of  some  to  be  facetious  about 
the  daily  Bible  class,  for  that  artful  maiden  and  daughter  of  the 
church,  after  getting  her  auditors  interested  in  tales  of  flood  and  field, 
had  gradually  led  on  to  the  introduction  of  holier  themes.  By  the 
end  of  the  first  week  the  New  Testament  was  slipped  in  among  her 
books,  and  selected  chapters  were  explained  in  very  different  style  from 
anything  her  soldier  patients  had  ever  heard  before,  and  these  had 
become  part  of  the  lesson  of  the  day.  Blake  declared  that  Father 
Keefe,  of  Butte,  was  getting  jealous;   but  Miss  Leroy  was  serenely 


RAY'S  RECRUIT.  503 

superior  to  any  and  all  allusions  or  reflections.  She  would  stoop  to 
neither  controversy  nor  defence.  It  was  her  faith,  and  that  was 
enough.  The  quartermaster  had  laughingly  suggested  that  he  thought 
of  getting  sent  to  hospital  so  as  to  become  one  of  the  elect,  and  Miss 
Leroy  had  studied  his  face  one  moment  with  those  clear,  l)eautiful  eyes 
of  hers,  and  gravely  replied  that  it  might  be  necessary  for  him  to  go 
to  even  greater  lengths  before  he  could  be  considered  worthy.  Then 
Mainwaring  had  jocosely  asked  why  she  didn't  start  a  missionary 
boom  among  the  officers,  whereat  Miss  Leroy  flushed  just  a  little  and 
then  smilingly  replied  that  it  was  not  because  they  did  not  need  it 
more  than  the  men  she  had  met,  but  she  had  no  surplus  energy  to 
waste. 

"  Has  no  surplus  seed  to  sow  on  barren  ground,  major,"  interposed 
Blake.  "  You  remember  the  parable  of  the  hare  and  the  tortoise." 
Which  helped  Mainwaring  no  whit,  and  only  evoked  a  reproachful 
glance  from  Miss  Leroy,  seeing  which  Blake  whispered  so  that  several 
heard,  "  I'd  wear  sackcloth  and  ashes  a  week  if  Mainwaring  could 
prove  he  knew  the  difference  between  Jacob's  Ladder  and  Jack  and 
the  Bean-Stalk." 

"  Blake,"  remonstrated  Truscott,  a  moment  later,  when  he  got  him 
to  one  side,  "you  must  be  more  prudent,  not  to  sav  considerate. 
Mainwaring  is  too  good  a  soldier  to  be  treated  with  derision,  and  you'll 
make  an  enemy  I  should  hate  to  see  you  have,  if  you  continue." 
Blake  had  had  other  warnings.  His  clear-headed  young  wife  had 
already  seen  in  Mrs.  Mainwaring's  somewhat  studied  courtesy  of  greet- 
ing that  something  was  amiss,  and  had  little  doubt  that  the  major  had 
carried  home  his  version  of  the  Three  Guardsmen  episode  in  the  court- 
room, which  was  indeed  the  case,  though,  fortunately  for  Blake,  Main- 
waring couldn't  remember  the  strange  names  so  glibly  given  him. 
Mrs.  Blake  had  sought  by  every  gentle,  tactful  way  in  her  power  to 
make  amends  for  her  beloved  Gerald's  uncanny  propensity  to  ridi- 
cule, but  the  wound  was  deeper  with  Mrs.  Mainwaring  than  with  the 
doughty  major.  She  refused  to  be  mollified,  while  he,  ever  tempting 
somebody  by  his  irrepressible  habit  of  launching  impetuous  comment 
or  criticism  at  anybody  whose  methods  differed  from  his  own,  was  as 
constantly  inviting  reprisals.  Relations  were  strained,  therefore,  and 
Blake  should  have  been  more  guarded.  They  had  even  come  to  such 
a  pass  that  Mrs.  Mainwaring  was  finding  serious  fault  with  her  niece 
because  of  a  growing  intimacy  between  her  and  Nannie  Blake,  and 
matters  were  destined  to  come  to  a  climax  in  more  than  one  garrison 
affair,  and  come  to  it  this  very  night. 

Mrs.  Ray  had  been  in  ignorance  of  any  serious  difference  between 
the  Mainwarings  and  Blake.  Indeed,  she  often  said  she  did  not  see 
how  anybody  could  take  Blake  seriously.  But  during  the  dinner  it 
had  become  apparent  more  than  once.  Not  in  Mainwaring :  he,  as 
Blake  put  it,  was  mannerless  as  ever.  Mainwaring  talked  as  much 
and  as  loudly  to  Blake  as  he  did  to  his  hostess,  on  whose  right  he  sat. 
There  were  few  topics  that  could  be  discussed,  outside  of  horse-shoeing, 
grooming,  and  company  kitchens,  in  which  Mainwaring  could  be  con- 
sidered authority,  but  in  one  and  all  was  he  disputatious,  challenging 


504  RAV'S  RECRUIT. 

tlie  speaker  to  prove  the  words,  even,  as  sometimes  happened,  when 
the  challenged  party  was  a  woman  and  entitled  to  assert  no  stronger 
reason  than  "  Because." 

Main  waring  carried  a  conversational  chip  on  his  shoulder  even  at 
dinner-parties,  and  to-night  it  had  been  more  than  ordinarily  in  evi- 
dence. It  was  after  dinner,  and  before  visitors  came  dropjnng  in,  and 
the  five  ladies  were  chatting  in  the  parlor,  that  Mrs.  Mainwaring's 
constraint  towards  Mrs.  Blake  became  marked,  as  well  as  her  frequent 
efforts  at  breaking  in  upon  the  cordial,  friendly  talk  between  that  lady 
and  her  niece. 

Finally,  just  after  midnight,  when  it  was  time  for  all  to  be  going 
to  their  homes,  Blake,  whose  duty  as  officer  of  the  day  had  twice  called 
him  away,  again  was  missing.  Ray  promptly  threw  his  cape  over  his 
shoulders  to  escort  Mrs.  Blake,  although  she  lived  close  at  hand,  and 
with  merry  chat  and  laughter  the  various  ladies  and  their  escorts  were 
trooping  forth  into  the  keen  night  air,  when  Mrs.  Truscott,  who  was 
foremost,  held  up  her  hand  and  said,  "  Hush !  I  hear  something," 
and  her  face  took  on  an  instant  expression  of  alarm. 

The  wind  was  no  longer  violent,  but  it  blew  with  steady  force 
across  the  parade,  and  sounds  from  the  direction  of  the  guard- house 
near  the  south  gate,  or  the  stables  along  the  east  front,  were  carried 
out  to  the  waste  of  prairie  stretching  away  towards  the  far,  pine-crested 
heights  of  the  Elk  range.  Yet  it  was  towards  the  guard-house,  whose 
twinkling  lights  could  be  plainly  seen,  that  Mrs.  Truscott  was  gazing. 
Mainwaring  was,  as  usual,  talking  loudest  of  the  party,  and  was  the 
last  to  cease.  "  Nonsense,  Mrs.  Truscott,  you  can't  hear  the  baby 
crying,"  he  almost  derisively  exclaimed,  whereat  the  lady  stamped  a 
shapely  foot  and  spoke  as  her  father,  their  old  colonel,  would  have 
spoken  when  his  wife  was  not  present,  and  this  time  with  effect. 

Some  one,  panting,  came  running  across  the  parade.  It  was  the 
corporal  of  the  guard. 

"  Captain  Ray,"  he  cried,  "  Captain  Blake  says  please  come  to  him, 
quick,  at  the  south  gate." 

Ray  went  like  a  shot.  The  corporal  started  to  follow,  but  Mrs. 
Blake,  alarmed  and  trembling,  begged  him  to  stop. 

"What's  happened?"  demanded  Mainwaring.     "Who's  hurt?" 

"  I  don't  know,  sir.  Nobody's  hurt  that  I  know  of,  but  there's  a 
patrol  out." 

"After  some  drunken  man  of  Ray's  troop, — that's  all,"  said 
Mainwaring,  "and  Blake  don't  want  to  put  him  under  guard.  See  if 
it  ain't.     Come,"  he  said,  tendering  an  arm  to  his  wife. 

But  Mrs.  Blake  knew  her  own  mind,  and,  without  a  word  of  reply, 
started  straight  across  the  road  in  the  direction  taken  by  Ray. 

"  Oh,  don't  go,  Mrs.  Blake  ;"  "  Don't  go,  Nannie ;"'  "  I'm  sure  it's 
nothing  serious,"  were  the  various  cries  that  followed  her,  but  she 
never  faltered.  "  Good- night,"  she  cried  ;  "  I'm  going  to  Gerald." 
Reluctantly  the  doctor  called  after  her, — 

"  Oh,  wait,  Mrs.  Blake.     If  you  must  go,  I'll — I'll  escort  you." 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Leroy,  firmly,  "  and  take  me  too."  Saying 
which,  she  started  her  escort  almost  on  a  run. 


RAV'S  RECRUIT.  505 

"Pet — Kate — indeed  I  protest.  Indeed  you  must  not  go!"  called 
Mrs.  Mainwaring,  loudly. 

*' Aw,  Kate,  don't  be  so  idiotic,"  shouted  the  major,  but  all  to  no 
purpose.  "  Pet"  and  her  obedient  -3i^sculapius  were  already  in  swift 
pursuit,  and,  if  not  out  of  hearing,  out  of  sight. 

And  then,  all  of  a  sudden,  the  eastward  gable  ends  of  the  barracks, 
the  east  side  of  the  guard-house  tower,  the  topmast  of  the  tall  white 
flag-staff,  were  all  for  one  brief  instant  flashed  on  the  night  in  a  lurid 
glare,  and  as  suddenly  died  out  of  sight.  Away  over  beyond  the  edge 
of  the  bluti'  a  dull,  smothered,  booming  sound  smote  the  wintry  air, 
and  something  shook  the  windows  and  caused  the  earth  to  tremble. 
Then  a  carbine  cracked  and  a  sentry  yelled,  half  stifled  ;  then  came  a 
distant  sound  of  crackling,  like  pistol-shots ;  a  trumpet  pealed,  and 
sounds  of  rush  and  scurry  followed.  There  was  only  one  explanation, 
— the  magazine. 


CHAPTER   X. 

It  was  eleven-thirty  that  night  when  Corporal  Judkins,  posting  his 
relief,  came  stumbling  along  the  rough  ground  below  the  "  bench," 
and  turned  into  the  flat  between  the  quartermaster's  hay-stacks  and  the 
stables.  No.  5  he  had  posted  at  the  east  gate  and  picked  up  the 
shivering  sentry  who  for  two  mortal  hours  had  been  swearing  and 
trotting  up  and  down  in  vain  eifort  to  keep  warm.  No.  6,  down 
among  the  shadows  of  the  stacks  and  stables,  was  not  so  easy  to  find. 
When  at  last  his  challenge  was  heard,  he  leaped  from  the  shelter  of  the 
very  stack  that  had  called  forth  the  colonel's  condemnation  that  evening 
at  stables,  and,  between  cold  and  excitement — or  something,  was  in- 
coherent in  his  formula  for  receiving  relief,  and  had  to  be  sharply 
prompted  by  the  corporal  in  turning  over  his  orders.  "  What's  the 
matter  with  you,  Scully  ?"  snarled  the  corporal.  "  You  talk  as  if  you'd 
been  asleep.  Turn  over  your  orders,  man,  and  don't  keep  us  shivering 
here." 

The  tall  soldier  who  was  to  relieve  him  stood  patiently,  with  his 
carbine  at  port.  Silently  he  listened  to  the  mumbled  words,  "Allow 
no  one  to  approach  the  stables  or  stacks  with  lighted  pipe  or  cigar. 
Allow  no  vehicles  to  be  driven  to  or  from  the  stables,  or  horses  taken 
out  except  in  presence  of  a  commissioned  officer,  stable  sergeant,  or  non- 
commissioned officer  of  the  guard.  Be  on  the  alert  for  fires,  and  keep 
special  lookout  for  the  sparks  from  laundresses'  quarters  when  they 
start  their  fires  in  the  morning "    And  then  Judkins  cut  him  short. 

"You've  got  'em  twisted;  but  you  know  them  all,  don't  you. 
Hunter?" 

The  tall  recruit  nodded. 

"Take  your  post,"  said  the  corporal.  "Fall  in,  Scully.  Darned 
lot  of  use  you'd  be  to-night.     You  smell  as  if  you'd  been  drinking." 

"  I  wish  I  had,  bedad,"  shivered  No.  2.  "  Go  on,  corporal,  or  we'll 
never  get  thawed."  And  in  a  moment  more  the  tramp  of  the  foot- 
steps died  away,  and  Hunter  was  alone. 


506  RAF'S  RECRUIT. 

He  was  warm]y  clad,  for,  in  addition  to  the  fur  cap  and  gauntlets, 
heavy  overshoes  had  been  added  to  the  soldier's  equipment  for  winter 
duty  dismounted,  and,  as  there  was  every  indication  of  snow,  the  guard 
had  been  ordered  to  wear  them  this  night.  Then  in  Ray's  troop  they 
had  a  knack  of  keeping  hot  coffee  in  the  kitchen  on  the  bitter  winter 
nights  for  the  benefit  of  their  guards,  and,  though  it  reminded  him  but 
feebly  of  the  fragrant  Mocha  of  other  days  and  climes,  it  had  cheered 
him  not  a  little,  and  he  felt  alert  and  vigorous  and  independent  as  he 
began  patrolling  his  lonely  post.  Along  the  bluff  to  the  westward  the 
black  bulk  of  the  barracks  loomed  up  against  the  starry  sky.  Between 
him  and  them  were,  close  at  hand,  the  huge  hay-stacks,  and  then  the 
scattered  huts  and  cottages  of  the  married  men.  In  one  or  two  of 
these  faint  night  lights  were  glowing.  Several  children  had  been 
ailing,  and  there  were  anxious  hearts  among  the  lowly.  But  there 
were  no  little  ones  at  Merri weather's,  yet  a  dim  light  shone  from  the 
southward  window.  What  manner  of  man  was  Merriweather,  any- 
way ?  pondered  the  sentry,  as,  pacing  briskly  up  the  open  space  before 
the  stables,  he  went  over  in  mind  the  adventure  now  nearly  two  weeks 
gone  by.  Never  once,  by  word  or  act,  had  the  sergeant  shown  the 
faintest  intention  to  seek  satisfaction  for  the  blow  that  had  floored  him. 
True,  he  never  spoke  to  Hunter,  never  seemed  to  see  him,  and  the 
accident  to  Stella  and  himself  might,  despite  all  the  sergeant's  protests 
to  his  captain,  have  been  the  result  of  his  design.  Once,  twice.  Hunter 
had  seen  Mrs.  Merriweather,  but  at  such  a  distance  that  speech  with 
her  was  out  of  the  question,  even  had  he  sought  it.  But  she  had  seen 
him  and  looked  long  and  meaningly  at  him,  and  he  could  not  but  know 
it.  For  some  reason  Merriweather  saw  fit  to  hide  the  facts  connected 
with  his  absence  from  tattoo  that  night,  and,  so  long  as  no  one  in 
authority  questioned,  it  was  not  Hunter's  province  to  explain. 

Keeping  vigilant  lookout  on  every  side  as  he  paced  up  and  down, 
the  soldier  gave  his  thoughts  free  rein.  He  was  glad  to  be  alone  to 
think  and  plan.  There  was  no  glamour  about  soldiering  as  he  had 
found  it,  and  it  was  useless  denying  even  to  himself  that  he  would 
gladly  have  recalled  his  rash  enlistment,  but,  that  being  impossible, 
grit  and  pride  asserted  themselves  and  bade  him  stand  to  his  guns  and 
give  no  sign.  Barring  the  inquisitive  proddings  of  the  men,  he  had 
had  no  active  annoyances  after  the  first  few  days.  Would-be  tormentors 
respected  a  man  who  was  so  free  with  his  fists — and  his  money.  His 
officers,  except  Mainwaring,  had  treated  him  with  grave  and  distant 
courtesy,  for  of  Brady  he  had  seen  nothing  at  all  until  this  day.  News 
from  home  and  abroad  he  had  had  none  and  wanted  none.  It  was  his 
purpose  to  shut  himself  out  from  the  old  world  for  good  and  all. 
Parents  he  had  lost  in  early  boyhood.  Brothers  and  sisters  he  had 
none.  Sweethearts — two.  One, — the  first, — his  senior  by  at  least  four 
years,  and  now  a  staid  wife  and  mother.  The  second  might  or  might 
not  be  wearing  a  coronet  by  this  time.  His  Grace  of  Lancaster  was 
on  his  last  legs,  and  his  eldest  hope.  Lord  Lunemouth,  on  his  last 
lung,  when  Gray  left  Switzerland  in  April.  That  "Amy,  shallow- 
hearted,"  had  wedded  Rokeby  by  this  time  was  possible,  if  not  probable. 
There  were  New  York  papers  in  the  post  library,  but  Hunter  had  seen 


RAV'S  RECRUIT.  507 

none,  would  see  none.  In  liis  stern  renunciation  of  the  world,  the  flebn, 
and  the  devil  of  his  old  life,  Trooper  Hunter  would  admit  no  interest 
in  the  doings  of  Gotham.  The  one  thing  that  bound  him  to  the  old 
life  was  the  knowledge  that,  up  to  October  at  least,  his  fond  old  uncle 
was  still  in  the  land  of  the  living.  A  stroke  of  some  kind  had  pros- 
trated him  before  Gray's  return  from  abroad.  Physicians  had  pre- 
scribed a  long  sea-voyage.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Darcy  Hunter  had  sailed 
for  North  Cape,  had  gone  thence  to  some  German  spa.  His  health  was 
shattered,  his  mind  almost  a  blank.  She  was  still  in  the  })rime  of  life. 
He,  said  the  last  news  Darcy  had  of  him  before  starting:  for  the  wide 
West,  hardly  recognized  his  attendants.  She  bore  her  sorrows  with 
the  patient  resignation  of  the  Christian  who  knows  there's  life  for  her 
beyond  the  grave — of  a  departed  husband. 

Of  the  remnant  of  his  fortune  Gray  had  still  a  few  thousand  dollars 
banked  where  it  would  be  safe  until  sorely  needed.  Under  an  humble 
roof  within  the  limits  of  Butte  were  stored  certain  trunks  containing 
civilian  clothing  and  things  he  valued.  Here  at  barracks  he  had  only 
his  soldier  outiit  of  uniform,  with  the  addition  of  better  underwear 
and  shoes  than  were  issued  by  Uncle  Sam.  One  poor  fellow  and  his 
suffering  wife,  at  least,  were  the  better  for  the  strange  coming  of  this 
eccentric :  the  starving  tramp  who  boarded  the  train  that  night  at 
Willow  Springs  had  now  a  roof  over  his  head  and  hers,  and  food,  fire, 
and  clothing.  She  was  sufficiently  recovered  to  take  in  washing,  for 
Chinamen  were  unpopular  if  not  unprofitable  servants  just  then  in 
Wyoming,  and  he,  the  starveling  of  that  night  on  the  train,  was  once 
more  a  carpenter,  his  tools  out  of  pawn  and  he  no  longer  out  of  work. 
That  man's  actual  misery  and  suffering,  all  for  the  lack  of  a  few  dollars, 
no  more  than  he,  Hunter  Gray,  had  been  accustomed  to  throw  away 
on  cigars  or  sundries  in  the  course  of  a  mouth,  had  opened  the  eyes 
of  the  world-weary  traveller  and  given  him  food  for  thought  and  spur 
to  action. 

One  anxiety  had  oppressed  him  since  his  voluntary  entrance  upon 
the  task  of  training  Stella,  a  duty  which  need  have  occupied  but  a  few 
days  had  it  not  been  for  that  untoward  mishap.  She  fought  shy  of 
the  bar  for  several  lessons  thereafter,  connecting  it  and  the  flapping 
blanket  unerringly  with  her  violent  fall.  Hunter's  anxiety  was  that 
any  afternoon  when  so  occupied  he  might  find  Mrs.  Mainwaring  and 
her  niece  among  the  lookers-on,  and  he  shrank  from  recognition.  He 
had  even  sought  to  get  his  captain  to  change  the  hour  to  morning,  but 
there  had  been  fine,  open  weather,  and  Atherton  lost  no  opportunities 
for  battalion  drills.  Hunter  took  to  these,  despite  the  crowding  and 
squeezing  when  in  line,  like  a  duck  to  the  water,  but  all  the  same  he 
would  have  preferred  giving  Stella  her  lesson  when  he  knew  Miss 
Leroy  to  be  engaged  at  the  hospital,  for  the  fame  of  that  benevolent 
young  lady's  work  had  spread  throughout  the  barracks  as  well  as  the 
quarters. 

And  it  was  of  her  and  that  odd  introduction  he  was  thinking  now, 
as  he  briskly  tramped  up  and  down,  peering  among  the  hay-stacks  and 
stables.  Just  before  the  midnight  call  his  post  had  been  visited  by  the 
sergeant  of  the  guard,  who  inquired  as  to  his  orders  and  bade  him  look 


508  RAV'S  RECRUIT. 

out  any  moment  for  Captain  Blake  or  Lieutenant  Brady.  The  mid- 
night call  of  the  sentries  went  round  in  rather  slipshod  i'ashion,  thanks 
to  the  wind,  but  no  sooner  had  Hunter  shouted  the  prolonged  *'  All's 
well"  than  he  wished  he  could  recall  it.  Not  a  suspicious  sight  or 
sound  had  he  noted  after  the  sergeant  went  his  way,  but  now,  before 
he  could  realize  or  dodge,  something  came  spinning  through  mid-air, 
over  his  head,  settled  down  on  his  shoulders  with  a  jerk ;  then  a  blanket 
was  whirled  about  his  face,  and,  with  his  breath  fairly  choked  out 
of  him,  with  only  time  for  one  startled,  stifled  cry,  the  loop  of  a  lariat 
was  suddenly  drawn  taut,  hurling  him  violently  to  the  frozen  ground, 
and  in  another  second  two  or  three  men  had  thrown  themselves  furi- 
ously upon  him.  Despite  mad  struggles,  he  was  bound,  gagged,  and 
kicked  behind  the  hay-stack.  His  carbine  was  whisked  away.  He  lay 
there  helpless  and  half  strangled,  but  they  had  removed  the  blanket, 
so  that  he  at  least  could  breathe  and  see.  And  then  from  beyond  the 
stable  of  his  troop  came  two  more  men  with  a  cart.  Into  this  was 
swiftly  loaded  box  after  box  of  some  weighty  substance,  the  boxes  being 
dragged  from  underneath  the  very  stack  that  had  caused  the  colonel's 
censure, — the  stack  that  interposed  between  Ray's  stable  and  the  little 
domicile  of  Sergeant  Merriweather  under  the  low  bluff.  Loaded  with 
all  it  could  safely  carry,  the  cart  was  swiftly  trundled  off  into  the 
darkness,  three  burly  forms  propelling,  two  remaining  close  at  hand. 
Not  a  word  was  spoken  that  Hunter  could  hear.  The  cart  came  back 
for  another  load  in  less  than  five  minutes,  and  this  time,  in  addition  to 
heavy  little  boxes  which  he  could  almost  swear  contained  ammunition 
and,  possibly,  revolvers,  they  dragged  sacks  of  oats  from  underneath 
the  stack,  and  loaded  them  too  upon  the  cart.  Three  trips  were  made 
in  all,  then  every  man  vanished  and  he  was  utterly  alone. 

Raging  at  his  plight,  powerless  to  help  himself  in  any  way,  and 
suffering  not  a  little  from  the  sharpness  of  his  cords  and  the  brutal 
manner  in  which  he  had  been  gagged,  Hunter  managed  to  keep  cool 
and  think.  At  tlie  utmost  he  probably  would  not  be  left  there  more 
than  twenty  minutes.  When  the  call  was  passed  at  twelve-thirty  his 
voice  would  be  missed  ;  the  corporal  would  have  to  come  down,  and, 
not  finding  him  on  his  post,  would  institute  search  ;  then  he  would  be 
released  and  could  tell  his  story. 

Even  as  he  lay  there  he  could  swear  he  heard  the  sound  as  of  hoofs 
and  heavy-laden  wheels  crashing  tlu'ough  the  ice  on  the  little  shallow 
stream  beyond  the  stables.  Presently  the  bitter  cold  of  the  frozen 
ground  seemed  to  penetrate  through  his  heavy  clothing,  and  he  began 
to  suffer  keenly.  The  wind  blew  but  lightly  where  he  lay  in  the  lee 
of  the  stack,  and,  though  he  knew  it  was  not  time  for  the  sentries  to  call 
off,  he  strained  his  ears  to  catch  the  sound  of  footfalls, — Blake  or 
Brady, — and  the  sergeant,  too,  might  be  along  again.  He  prayed  in- 
deed they  might  be,  for  robbery  had  been  committed  before  his  very 
eyes.  He  had  heard  rumors  of  the  disappearance  of  forage.  He  had 
heard  the  men  talk  of  the  exposed  situation  of  the  brick  niagazine  out 
there  on  the  prairie,  southeast  of  the  post.  Only  on  bright  moonlit 
nights  could  the  sentry  see  it  from  the  east  gate,  while  from  the  south 
gate  it  was  hidden  entirely.     He  knew  that  most  of  the  ammunition, 


RAY'S  RECRUIT.  509 

pistol,  carbine,  and  cannon,  was  kept  there,  and  at  one  time  quite  a  lot 
of  small-arms.  The  ordnance  sergeant  slept  in  the  garrison,  his  keys 
in  a  strong  box  under  his  bed,  yet  thieves  had  plundered  both  the 
magazine  and  the  stables,  and  hidden  their  booty  underneath  the  big 
hay -stack,  awaiting  opportunity  to  run  it  away  to  some  reliable  customer 
in  town.  That  they  were  members  of  the  garrison  was  evident  from 
that  very  fact.  Townsfolk  would  have  come  with  wagons  in  the  first 
place. 

Fifteen  minutes  at  least  had  he  still  to  wait  and  suifer,  possibly 
more,  if  no  officer  of  the  guard  chanced  to  inspect  right  after  twelve, 
or  if  the  corporal  should  be  slow  running  to  ascertain  why  the  twelve- 
thirty  call  was  not  repeated.  Fifteen  minutes,  and  already  he  was 
enduring  torment.  Then  came  sudden  hope, — the  sound  of  a  swift, 
light  footfall, — then  a  woman's  voice. 

"Dan!  Danny!  where  are  you?  Come  home  quick,  for  God's 
sake.     They're  hunting  for  you  now." 

No  answer. 

Again  the  plaintive  cry  was  repeated.  A  woman's  slender  form 
sped  swiftly  by,  turned  the  corner  of  the  huge  stack,  and  then,  as 
though  recoiling  at  sight  of  danger,  darted  back,  shuddering,  stumbled 
over  his  prostrate  body,  and  only  with  difficulty  saved  itself  from 
falling.  Quick  as  thought  the  woman  whirled  upon  him,  one  half- 
stifled,  nervous  cry  escaping  from  her  lips. 

"Scully,  you  beast!  Why  are  you  lying  there?  You  are  not 
drunk.  The  liquor  he  gave  you  wouldn't  do  this.  Where's  he  gone? 
Answer,  I  say.  Ah-h !"  And  the  cold  hands  that  had  seized  and 
shaken  him  fell  away  in  fright  at  touch  of  the  gag.  Quickly  she  re- 
covered herself,  fumbled  in  her  pocket,  found  a  pair  of  scissors,  and 
slashed  the  bands  that  were  strangling  him.  "  What  fool  work  is 
this  ?"  she  whimpered.  "  Sure  Dan  shouldn't  have  gagged  you,  Scully. 
Who  was  with  him?  Who  did  it?  Answer,"  she  implored,  shaking 
him  vehemently.  "  Get  up,  Scully,  quick  !  For  the  love  of  God  find 
him  !     They've  been  to  the  house  already — the  guard.     Somebody's 

peached.     Somebody Who  tied  this  lariat?    It's  knotted  like 

Wait  till  I  get  a  knife.  Lie  still,  Scully."  And  away  she  sped, 
leaving  him  to  wonder,  bound  as  he  was,  how  he  could  lie  otherwise. 
She  was  back  in  a  moment,  panting,  breathless.  She  sawed  at  the 
thick  cordage  until  it  snapped,  then  stared  wildly  one  instant  as  the 
tall  figure  straightened  up,  then  with  a  cry  of  horror  started  back. 
"Scully— No!  What?— you?  Hunter?  Oh,  blessed  saints,  have 
mercy  !" 

But  the  instant  he  was  released  and  had  gained  his  ieei,  unarmed 
though  he  was  and  half  numbed,  the  tall,  athletic  soldier  sprang  away 
into  the  darkness  and  ran  like  a  deer  across  the  open  space  and  on  past 
the  stables  towards  the  stream,  shouting  as  he  ran  at  the  full  strength 
of  his  powerfid  lungs,  "  Corporal  of  the  guard.  Number  6  !  Corporal 
of  the  guard,  Number  6  !" 

Out  on  the  low  bank  across  the  narrow  stream  he  could  see,  out- 
lined against  the  sky,  two  dark,  shadowy  figures  go  scurrying  swiftly 
by,  running  from  the  direction  of  the  old  magazine.     It  stood  only  a 


510  RAY'S  RECRUIT. 

few  yards  beyond  the  crest.  Again  he  set  up  his  powerful  shout, 
"Corporal  of  the  guard,  Number  6 !"  and  away  off'  to  the  northeast, 
although  farther  than  himself  from  the  guard-house,  Duffy  on  No.  5  at 
the  east  gate,  sure  that  something  was  dreadfully  amiss,  was  repeating 
the  cry.  Hardly  knowing  what  he  should  do  if  he  overtook  them, 
Hunter  dashed  into  the  shallow  stream,  in  hopes  of  reaching  the  oppo- 
site bank  and  overhauling  the  marauders,  but  the  broken,  slippery  ice 
trapped  and  threw  him  again.  Down  he  went  splash  into  the  chilling 
waters ;  up  he  scranjbled,  only  to  slip  and  go  down  a  second  time ; 
then  staggered  to  his  feet,  breathless,  almost  exhausted  nov/;  tumbled 
up  the  opposite  bank  ;  clambered  on  all-fours  to  the  crest ;  gazed  hur- 
riedly about  in  search  of  friend  or  foe ;  peered  into  the  darkness  to  the 
south  and  southwest,  but  the  runners  had  disappeared  ;  then  gazed  to  the 
east  and  sprang  to  his  feet,  startled.  Not  twenty  yards  away  loomed 
the  black  bulk  of  the  old  brick  magazine,  and,  hissing  and  sputtering,  a 
fiery  serpent  seemed  dancing  in  front.  It  bounded  to  the  door-way, 
now  in  the  ruddy  light  dimly  seen  to  be  open,  disappeared  within  a 
little  cloud  of  sulphur  smoke,  and  then  the  heavens  lit  up  with  an 
awful  glare ;  he  felt  himself  hurled  violently  backward  ;  for  one  instant 
he  seemed  to  see  a  million  stars  criss-crossing  thi'ough  the  skies;  his 
ears  were  stunned  and  deafened  by  a  thunderous  roar;  the  air  was 
filled  with  flying  bricks  and  beams  and  sheets  of  flame  that  scorched 
and  seared  and  blinded  him.  Then  something  crashed  upon  his  skull, 
and  he  toppled  over  the  bank  and  went  plunging  down  to  the  icy  flood 
beneath. 


CHAPTER   XI. 


November  had  given  way  to  a  still  more  wintry  month,  and  De- 
cember, cold,  clear,  snow-white,  and  sparkling,  chained  the  streams  in 
icy  fetters  and  spread  abroad  its  fleecy  blanket.  The  holidays  were 
drawing  nigh,  and  garrison  children  were  revelling  in  hope  and 
whispered  rumors  of  the  great  times  to  come.  There  was  to  be  a 
Christmas-tree  in  the  post  hall,  with  presents  for  all  the  little  ones. 
Miss  Leroy  was  managing  everything,  and  what  Miss  Leroy  under- 
took went  with  a  dash.  The  afternoons  now  were  given  up  to  all 
manner  of  sewing  and  stitching  and  contriving,  dressing  dolls  and 
filling  cornucopias  and  parcelling  out  gifts  so  that  no  child  should  be 
overlooked  or  forgotten,  but  never  once  did  Miss  Leroy  neglect  her 
morning  Bible  class,  for  such  it  had  become,  and  into  the  fold  were 
gladly  drawn,  not  only  convalescent  patients  in  hospital,  but  volunteers 
from  baiTacks  and  quarters  M'ho  had  no  bodily  ills,  but  who  rejoiced  in 
souls  in  need  of  saving.  Ransom  had  no  chaplain  in  those  days,  or 
sectarian  piety  might  have  taken  alarm  at  the  rapid  increase  in  Miss 
Leroy's  weekday  Sunday-school.  Two  of  the  most  devout  and  regular 
attendants  of  late  were  Sergeant  and  Mrs.  Merriweather.  Drills  were 
suspended,  it  being  now  too  cold  and  snowy,  and  Miss  Leroy's  hospital 
services  began  regularly  at  ten.  She  would  enter,  bright,  smiling, 
happy-faced,  go  at  once  to  her  little  desk,  and  open  the  ball?     Now, 


RAY'S  RECRUIT.  511 

the  Scriptures  came  first, — there  was  uo  longer  doubt  as  to  the  main 
object  of  her  charitable  enterprise, — but  when  the  lessons  of  the  day 
were  disposed  of,  and  a  brief  sermon  read  from  the  collection  of  some 
famous  divine,  the  barrack  squad  and  Sudstown  people  would  retire, 
and  she  could  then  devote  another  hour  to  lighter  reading  for  the 
benefit  of  her  patients  exchisively,  some  of  whom  were  still  in  the 
ward  with  the  graver  cases. 

And  among  these  latter,  with  bandaged  eyes  and  burned  and 
blistered  face  and  hands,  an  unrecognizable  bundle  of  bandages,  lay 
Trooper  Hunter,  over  whose  head,  unseen,  unknown,  there  was  hanging 
a  sword. 

For  some  days  and  nights  concussion  of  the  brain  was  feared. 
The  magazine  had  been  blown  into  a  thousand  fragments,  and  how 
many  of  these,  beams  or  bricks,  had  felled  him,  no  one  ever  knew. 
He  was  hauled  out  of  the  stream,  feet  first,  like  poor  Pat  Shea,  bleed- 
ing, burned,  and  senseless.  He  began  to  mend  in  a  few  days,  however, 
and  by  the  8th  of  December  was  occasionally  sitting  up  in  an  invalid 
chair,  his  eyes  and  (iheeks  still  under  cover.  But  from  the  time  his 
convalescence  began,  Trooper  Hunter  had  spent  two  hours  each  morning 
listening  to  the  voice  of  the  charmer  who  charmed  so  wisely,  and  there 
came  a  day  when  she  bent  over  his  couch  and  laid  her  cool  soft  white 
hand  on  his  forehead  and  asked  him  if  there  were  notiiing  she  could 
do,  no  friends  or  relatives  to  whom  he  would  like  her  to  write,  and  he 
murmured  that  he  couldn't  think  of  any  just  then,  but  might  if  she'd 
come  again  to  ask  him  on  the  morrow.  She  came,  and  on  the  next 
and  the  next  day,  too,  marvelling  not  a  little  at  the  voice,  the  intelli- 
gence, the  language,  of  this  particular  patient.  She  strove  to  study  his 
features,  but  without  success,  for  when  the  doctor  thought  to  remove 
the  bandages  the  patient  declared  the  morning  light  was  altogether  too 
much  for  his  weakened  eyes.  He  would  be  bandaged  in  the  morning, 
though  the  afternoon  sunshine  was  really  more  brilliant,  and  he  didn't 
seem  to  mind  it  then.  Miss  Leroy  took  to  sitting  by  Hunter's  bedside 
as  much  as  ten  minutes  at  first;  then  the  ten  began  to  lengtlien  to 
fifteen  and  even  twenty,  and  other  patients  waxed  impatient  and  said 
things  about  Hunter  and  thought  things  about  her  tiiat  proved  how 
jealous  is  the  human  heart,  even  when  it  beats  beneath  a  flannel  shirt. 
The  surgeon  said  Hunter  could  soon  return  to  his  troop,  as  far  as  his 
health  was  concerned,  but  there  were  reasons  to  fear  his  health  might 
suffer  after  he  got  there,  for  Major  Mainwaring,  now  in  temporary 
command  of  the  post,  was  making  frequent  and  impetuous  inquiries. 
Colonel  and  Mrs.  Atherton  had  gone  East  on  two  months'  leave; 
Major  and  Mrs.  Stannard  had  gone  to  Russell  for  a  fortnight  to  visit 
old  friends  in  another  regiment;  and  here,  to  his  huge  delight,  was 
Mainwaring  in  command  of  an  eight-company  post.  Then  the  surgeon 
asked  why  Mainwaring  was  so  anxious  to  have  the  patient  out,  and 
learned  something  that  proved  a  painful  shock. 

"Well,  major,"  said  he,  after  a  solemn  silence,  "of  course  you're 
commanding  officer,  but  I  find  it  mighty  hard  to  believe  that  story, 
and  I  protest  against  its  being  made  known  to  him  until  he  is  strong 
enough  to  bear  it, — which  he  isn't  now." 


512  RAY'S  RECRUIT. 

There  had  been  much  talk  at  the  hospital,  among  the  stewards  and 
attendants  and  patients  who  could  talk  at  all,  as  to  the  result  of  the 
board  of  survey  promptly  convened  at  Colonel  Atherton's  request  to 
ascertain  the  cause  of  the  mysterious  explosion  which  had  wrecked  the 
magazine  and  ruined  its  contents,  and  it  did  not  take  long  for  such 
keen  scouts  and  trailers  as  Kay,  Blake,  and  old  Wilkins  to  make  up 
their  minds.  Coupled  with  what  had  occurred  at  the  south  gate  that 
night,  just  a  little  while  before  the  explosion,  there  was  no  doubt  that 
an  extensive  robbery  had  taken  place  and  that  the  object  of  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  magazine  was  the  obliteration  with  it  of  evidences  of  the 
crime. 

It  seemed  that  shortly  before  eleven-thirty  that  night  two  veteran 
sergeants  of  Truscott's  troop,  returning  from  Butte  on  pass,  became 
aware  of  a  v,^agon  driving  ahead  of  them  as  they  left  town  and  soon 
disappearing  out  on  the  prairie  east  of  the  road.  Now  there  was  not 
a  ranch  or  house  to  which  it  could  have  gone;  everything  of  that  kind 
lay  farther  down  the  stream,  where  it  swept  in  bold  curve,  first  to  the 
south,  then  eastward  again.  Rumors  of  forage-stealing  they  had  heard, 
and  therefore  decided  to  find  where  the  wagon  went,  but  after  searching 
awhile  in  the  gale  and  the  darkness  they  gave  it  up,  yet  warned  the 
sergeant  of  the  guard  as  they  alighted  at  the  south  gate,  and  their  hack- 
driver  returned  with  his  rig  to  town.  Captain  Bhike  was  notified,  and 
a  patrol  was  ordered  out  to  scour  the  right  bank  of  the  little  stream 
that  flowed  back  of  the  stables.  They  hadn't  gone  fifty  yards  before 
they  stirred  up  a  squad  of  troopers  that  scattered  at  their  approach, 
but  one  was  captured, — Ray's  rapscallion  of  a  trumpeter  "  the  Kid," 
— and  the  Kid  refused  flatly  and  characteristically  to  say  who  the 
others  were.  A  privileged  character  was  the  Kid.  He  had  been  ten 
years  or  more  in  the  regiment,  and  ten  dozen  times  in  scrapes.  A 
better  little  soldier  on  campaign  or  a  worse  one  in  garrison  couldn't  be 
found  in  all  the  — th,  and  as  the  regiment  had  spent  more  of  those  ten 
years  in  the  field  than  in  the  fort,  the  Kid  had  still  a  small  balance  to 
his  credit.  He  had  a  medal  of  honor  from  Congress  for  heroism  in 
fierce,  savage  battle,  and  a  record  for  deviltry  of  every  conceivable  kind. 
Ray  was  the  only  man,  except  Atherton,  he  either  feared  or  loved. 
Grinning  from  ear  to  ear,  he  told  Blake  that  there  wasn't  any  officer  in 
the  regiment  smart  enough  to  scare  him  into  giving  away  a  fellow- 
soldier,  and  Blake  sent  for  Ray.  Something  told  him  there  was  mis- 
chief afoot,  and  Ray  and  the  explosion  came  almost  together. 

Only  two  men  in  all  Fort  Ransom,  however,  were  found  to  have 
anything  to  explain  as  to  their  whereabouts  that  night :  first.  Sergeant 
Merri weather,  whom  the  sergeant  of  the  guard  had  inquired  for  just 
after  visiting  sentries,  and  solely  because  a  light  was  burning  so  late  in 
his  window.  The  second  was  the  new  trooper.  Hunter,  found  nearly 
three  hundred  yards  away  from  his  proper  post,  blinded,  senseless, 
bleeding,  and  half  drowned.  The  Kid  had  told  the  plausible  tale 
that  "  him  and  three  other  fellers  was  sneaking  off  to  town  for  a  lark" 
when  detected.  Merriweather  declared  that  he  had  heard  horses 
stamping  and  snorting  in  the  stables,  and  had  considered  it  his  duty, 
though  no  longer  stable  sergeant,  to  go  and  investigate,  and  that  he 


RAV'S  RECRUIT.  51 3 

saw  no  sentry  on  No.  6,  but  hunted  up  and  down  for  him,  wondering 
where  he  could  be,  and  was  so  occupied  when  the  explosion  occurred. 
But  Hunter  had  not  yet  been  approaclied.  There  were  reasons  why  it 
was  deemed  best  to  let  him  suppose  no  suspicion  attached  to  him. 

For,  no  sooner  was  it  light  enough  to  see,  the  morning  after  the  ex- 
plosion, than  Atherton  had  some  of  his  best  officers  scouring  the  prairie 
for  traces.  They  found  bricks,  bullets,  and  unexploded  boxes  of  car- 
tridges all  over  the  neighborhood,  but  not  one  of  the  forty  revolvers 
and  only  twenty  of  the  eighty  boxes  of  carbine,  rifle,  and  revolver 
cartridges  that  should  have  been  there.  Of  the  barrel  of  rifle  powder 
and  half-barrel  of  cannon  cartridges  not  a  vestige,  of  course,  remained. 
All  this  was  brought  out  by  the  board,  and,  the  board's  findings  having 
been  sent  to  Department  head-quarters,  Atherton,  as  has  been  said, 
had  gone  off  on  leave ;  so  had  Stannard,  and  this  left  Mainwariog  in 
command. 

*'  Not  a  word,  not  a  hint  to  that  fellow  until  I  tell  you,"  said 
Mainwaring  to  the  post  surgeon,  who,  an  older  man  and  a  major  senior 
in  rank  by  several  years,  was  nevertheless  his  inferior  in  the  eyes  of 
military  law  and  regulation,  he  being  debarred  from  assuming  com- 
mand. And  so,  as  Hunter  grew  stronger  every  day  and  watched  with 
eagerness  for  the  coming  each  morning  of  the  young  devotee,  there 
dawned  upon  him  no  ray  of  suspicion  of  the  toils  that  were  surrounding 
him,  for  Miss  Leroy,  who  used  to  talk  at  home  of  her  pu{)il  patients, 
had  become  silent  as  to  one  at  least,  and  uncommunicative  as  to  all, 
for  Mrs.  Mainwaring  of  late  had  expressed  her  disapprobation  in  no 
measured  terms,  and  there  was  no  longer  that  sweet  accord  which 
should  obtain  between  aunt  and  niece. 

One  bright  morning  the  doctor  bade  Hunter  lay  aside  the  shrouding 
bandages  entirely  and  wear  only  a  green  shade  over  the  eyes.  Orders 
were  orders,  but  when  Miss  Leroy  entered  and  as  usual  spoke  to  him, 
a  dainty  handkerchief  was  pressed  to  his  face.  The  light,  he  said,  was 
still  too  dazzling. 

"  But  you  are  much  better,"  said  she,  in  her  clear  tones.  "  The 
doctor  says  you  can  soon  return  to  light  duty,  probably  before 
Christmas." 

Then  as  she  took  her  seat  to  read,  her  side  face  towards  him,  he 
slipped  the  kerchief  a  little  to  one  side  that  he  might  gaze  undisturbed. 

The  men  had  asked  that  she  should  give  fifteen  minutes  at  least  to 
the  leading  events  of  the  day,  and  a  Chicago  paper  was  selected  for 
their  edification.  From  this  she  chose  such  items  as  she  thought  might 
prove  of  interest,  and  to  these  Hunter  listened,  in  spite  of  himself. 
First  she  read  of  the  political  news;  then  the  doings  of  great  dignita- 
ries, foreign  and  domestic ;  and  then  came  accidents  by  flood  and  field, 
and  anotiier  railway  hold-up  on  a  small  scale.  To  all  these  he  lent 
but  languid  ear.  He  was  watching  with  eager  eyes  the  movements 
of  those  soft,  sensitive,  curved  red  lips.  He  hardly  paid  even  faint 
attention  to  what  she  was  saying,  until  something  in  the  names  struck 
him  as  familiar.  All  the  foremost  part  of  the  paragraph  had  passed 
unheard,  unheeded,  but  now,  now  only  by  strong  effort  could  he  restrain 
himself  from  sitting  bolt  upright  in  bed  and  reaching  out  and  seizing 
Vol.  LIX.— 33 


514  EAF'S  RECRUIT. 

the  paper  and  reading  for  himself;  for  what  she  read,  when  once  again 
he  became  conscious  of  her  words,  was  this : 

"  The  overturned  yacht  now  lies  in  forty  feet  of  water,  her  taper 
masts  and  upper  rigging  all  that  remain  visible.  Mr.  Hunter  is  doing 
well,  carefully  attended  by  Dr.  Lambert  at  the  Hotel  des  Ambassa- 
deurs.  The  bodies  of  Mrs.  Hunter  and  her  unfortunate  friends  will 
doubtless  be  recovered  this  morning.  The  ladies  were  caught  in  the 
cabin  when  the  Amorita  was  struck,  and  escape  was  impossible.  She 
went  to  the  bottom  like  a  shot.  English  and  American  residents  are 
in  deep  grief.  The  ball-room  at  the  Casino  last  night  was  almost  de- 
serted. Many  New  York  and  Philadelj)hia  families  are  at  Nice  for 
the  winter,  and  the  tragic  fate  of  Mrs.  Hunter  has  cast  a  gloom  over 
the  community.  Mr.  Hunter  had  greatly  improved  in  health,  but  it 
is  feared  this  bereavement  may  again  prostrate  him.  They  have  no 
children." 

The  Amorita  ?  That  yacht  was  owned  by  a  wealthy  English  ad- 
Euirer  of  his  uncle's  wife.  For  more  reasons  than  one,  Hunter  Gray 
had  never  fancied  him,  and  even  his  easy-going  uncle  seemed  to  hold 
aloof.  But  Mrs.  Hunter,  so  much  her  husband's  junior  in  years, 
loved  society,  adored  yachting,  and  what  was  more  necessary  for  her 
beloved  invalid's  recovery  than  the  soft  sea-breezes  of  the  Riviera  and 
the  idyllic  dolce  far  niente  days  and  nights  under  those  incomparable 
Mediterranean  skies  and  on  the  Amorita's  dainty  deck?  There  was  a 
late  supper  going  on  one  joyous  night  aboard,  just  as  she  was  coming 
in  from  a  day's  dancing  over  the  blue  waters.  There  was  misunder- 
standing between  her  skipper  and  that  of  a  steamer  over  the  right  of 
way, — signals,  or  God  knows  what, — for  when  the  Amorita  rounded  to 
the  cruel  black  prow  struck  her  amidships  and  ground  her  underneath 
the  iron  keel.  Through  the  devotion  of  the  crew  Mr.  Hunter  and  one 
or  two  friends  with  him  were  rescued.  They  were  on  deck.  But 
nothing  could  save  the  hapless  banqueters  still  below.  Darcy  Hunter 
had  survived  the  wreck  of  his  business,  the  wreck  of  the  Amorita, — 
had  survived  even  his  young,  light-hearted  wife,  with  whose  remains, 
said  the  paper,  he  would  return  to  America  at  once. 


CHAPTER   XII. 


That  evening  when  the  surgeon  was  making  his  visit  to  the  hos- 
pital the  steward  told  him  Trooper  Hunter  desired  to  speak  with  him, 
and,  halting  somewhat  in  his  gait  and  looking  very  pallid  still,  but 
otherwise  little  the  worse  for  wear,  the  tall  soldier  was  ushered  into 
the  dispensary. 

The  junior  medical  officer,  for  reasons  the  senior  could  not  quite 
fathom,  had  on  several  occasions  recently  asked  the  senior  if  he  did 
not  think  Hunter  fit  to  return  to  light  duty,  and  gave  his  opinion  that 
he  was  getting  soft  and  lazy  there.  The  post  surgeon,  for  reasons  the 
junior  could  not  fathom  at  all,  replied  that  he  thought  it  might  be 
several  days  before  he  should  permit  Hunter  to  return  to  his  troop. 


RAY'S  RECRUIT.  515 

This  in  no  wise  added  to  Jayne's  good  will  towards  his  gentlemanly 
and  attractive  patient.  Hunter  was  fortunate  in  having  won  the  sym- 
pathy of  the  senior.  To-night  he  won  something  more. 
Standing  bolt  upright  at  the  door,  he  said, — 
"  May  I  speak  one  moment  with  the  colonel,  in  private  ?" 
The  surgeon  almost  blushed  as  he  whirled  towards  the  speaker. 
All  through  the  war  of  the  rebellion  he  had  served,  a  gallant,  skilful, 
devoted  officer,  ever  seeking  duty  at  the  front,  ever  ready  night  or  day 
to  brave  peril,  hardship,  or  fatigue  to  go  with  his  regiment  into  action. 
Time  and  again  he  had  dashed  with  them  into  battle.  More  than  once 
he  had  cheered  them  in  headlong  charge  until  recalled  to  himself  and 
duties  that  bade  him  sheathe  the  sword  for  the  scalpel.  Scorning  to 
leave  his  wounded,  he  had  fallen  with  them  into  the  hands  of  the 
enemy  and  had  starved  with  them  at  Andersonville.  Once  he  had 
been  seriously  wounded  as  he  knelt  beside  a  stricken  comrade  on  the 
battle-line.  Twice  he  had  been  offered  hospital  duty  at  Annapolis  and 
Washington,  and  declined.  From  one  end  of  the  war  to  the  other  he 
had  been  known  among  the  men  as  the  fighting  doctor,  and  the  fame 
had  followed  him  to  the  far  frontier,  where  in  one  long  and  fierce 
campaign  against  the  Sioux  he  had  spared  himself  no  hardship  that 
the  humblest  soldier  had  to  endure;  and  the  cavalry  swore  by  him,  ay, 
and  the  lithe,  sinewy,  hard-marching,  hard-fighting  doughboys  too, 
and  loved  him  for  the  love  he  bore  them.  With  all  he  was  a  student 
of  his  trade  and  gloried  in  it,  but  most  he  gloried  that  he  was  a  soldier. 
He  looked  it,  lived  it,  deserved  it  and  everything  the  name  implied; 
but  he  had  one  weakness,  if  weakness  honest  glory  in  one's  profession 
could  be  called.  "  I've  been  a  soldier  twenty  years  of  my  life.  I've 
won  the  brevets  of  major  and  lieutenant-colonel  on  the  battle-field  and 
colonel  for  the  war,  but  never  have  I  been  called  or  can  I  look  to  be 
called  anything  but  doctor.  Here  are  your  paymasters,  commissaries, 
quartermasters, — fellows  that  never  heard  a  hostile  bullet  whistle  or 
saw  the  smoke  of  battle, — lots  of  'em  ;  you  call  them  captain  or  major, 
as  though  they  were  soldiers,  but  you  snub,  by  God  !  the  one  staff 
corps  that  never  leaves  the  fighting-line  when  the  fighting  begins." 

Now,  the  surgeon  had  come  but  lately  to  Ransom.  He  had  served 
but  a  few  weeks  witli  the  — th,  yet  Truscott  and  Ray  had  discovered 
his  sensitiveness  and  gladly  hailed  him  as  colonel.  Blake  promptly 
followed  suit ;  but  when  Mainwaring  heard  it,  Mainwaring  bristled. 
"  What  right's  a  d — d  doctor  to  expect  to  be  called  anything  but 
doctor?"  he  asked,  explosively,  and  he  no  more  meant  to  be  offensive, 
or  thought  he  could  be  considered  offensive,  in  his  language  than  did 
the  doctor  in  claiming  recognition  as  a  soldier.  And  then,  as  Main- 
waring prided  himself  on  "  never  saying  behind  a  fellow's  back  what 
he  wouldn't  say  to  his  face," — and  the  Lord  only  knew  what  he  hadn't 
said  to  people's  faces, — what  did  the  major  do,  only  that  very  day,  but, 
in  attempted  jocularity,  pitch  into  the  post  surgeon  at  the  morning 
gathering  of  the  officers  and  try  to  chaff  him  about  wanting  to  be 
called  colonel !  It  stung  the  honest  old  soldier-surgeon  to  the  quick. 
It  hurt  him  sore,  and  he  left  the  room  disgusted. 

And  so,  when  from  the  lips  of  this  tall  trooper  came  the  title  he 


5^6  RAV'S  RECRUIT. 

valued,  the  post  surgeon  fairly  blushed,  for  he  had  been  thinking 
intently  over  the  events  of  the  morning,  and,  if  the  truth  must  be 
told,  was  wondering  how  he  could  get  square  with  Major  Mainwaring, 
and  iiere  was  a  possible  opportunity. 

Obedient  to  his  superior's  nod,  the  hospital  steward  went  out, 
closing  the  door  behind  him. 

"  What  is  it,  Hunter?"  asked  the  surgeon,  kindly. 

"  I  have  come  to  ask,  sir,  if  it  would  be  possible  for  me  to  return 
to  my  troop  to-night,  and  if  the  colonel  could  aid  me  in  any  way  to 
get  a  furlough  of  twenty  or  thirty  days." 

Colonel  Connell  looked  up,  })erplexed,  even  troubled.  Both  re- 
quests were  unusual  from  old  soldiers,  and  never  heard  of  from  re- 
cruits. 

"  I  fear  not.  Hunter.  You  see,  there  are  reasons  why  you  ought 
not  to  attempt  to  return  to  duty  yet ;  and  what  can  you  allege  as  reason 
for  a  furlough  so  soon  after  enlistment?" 

"  Urgent  personal  affairs,  sir,"  was  the  answer,  a  half-smile  twitch- 
ing at  the  corners  of  the  handsome  mouth.  "Even  a  trooper  may 
have  them,  you  know." 

"  Hunter,"  said  the  surgeon,  after  a  moment's  pause,  "  be  advised 
by  me.  Don't  think  of  going  back  to  duty  for  two  or  three  days  yet, 
and  don't  let  any  one  know  you  wish  to  leave  Ransom  on  any  account, 
just  now." 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence.  The  soldier  still  remained  re- 
spectfully at  attention,  standing  close  to  the  door.  The  surgeon  had 
spoken  impressively,  earnestly,  significantly,  and  Hunter  could  not  but 
notice  it,  could  not  but  realize  that  behind  it  there  was  some  urgent 
meaning  or  reason,  yet  he  persisted. 

"  I  hope  the  colonel  will  pardon  me,"  he  said.  "  I  Avill  not  refer 
to  the  furlough  again  until  1  can  explain  more  fully,  which  will  be 
possible  after  I  have  talked  with  Captain  Ray ;  but  as  to  returning  to 
the  troop  I  beg  that  I  may  not  be  detained  here  through — another 
morning." 

The  surgeon  was  seated  in  a  wicker-bottom  office  chair,  which  he 
twisted  round  and  so  squarely  faced  his  visitor,  looking  keenly  yet  not 
unkindly  into  the  pale,  handsome  face.  It  was  a  moment  before  he 
spoke, 

"I  thought  you  greatly  appreciated  those  morning  readings,"  said 
he,  at  last.  "  I'm  sure  the  young  lady  has  done  very  much  to  make 
hospital  life  bearable." 

It  M'as  Hunter's  turn  to  color,  but  before  he  could  speak  he  had 
to  spring  aside.  Into  the  outer  hall  came  banging  a  burly  form 
enwrapped  in  cavalry  circular.  "Where's  Dr.  Connell?"  brusquely 
demanded  a  loud,  unmodulated  voice,  then  slap-bang,  with  all  his 
characteristic  im})etuosity,  Mainwaring  burst  into  the  room. 

Direct  as  ever,  never  noting  or  caring  who  was  present,  he  went 
straight  to  the  point.  "  Hullo,  doc !"  said  he,  loud,  gruff,  yet  hearty. 
"  Just  the  man  I'm  looking  for.  Say,  Truscott  tells  me  I  hurt  your 
feelings  this  morning,  and  I've  come  to  'pologize.  I  didn't  mean  a 
d — d  thing.     It's  all  right.     If  vou  want  to  be  called  colonel,  why, 


RAY'S  RECRUIT.  517 

colonel  it  shall  be.  I'll  issue  orders  calling  the  attention  of  the  whole 
command  to  it,  if  you  like." 

And  then  for  the  first  time  he  became  aware  of  the  tall  soldier, 
now  trying  to  slip  quietly  behind  inm  so  as  to  leave  the  room.  Main- 
waring  whirled  on  him  in  a  trice.  "Hullo,  you're  up  again,  are  you? 
— Well,  this  man's  able  to  answer  for  himself  now,  I  see,  doc — er — 
colonel  ?" 

But  the  post  surgeon  had  risen  from  his  chair  and  held  up  a  hand 
appeal!  ugly. 

"  He  is  still  a  patient  under  my  charge,  sir,  and  is  not  restored  to 
health  or  duty  as  yet.     I  protest " 

"  Oh,  you  needn't  protest.  I'm  done  for  the  present.  I'm  giving 
way  to  everybody  this  evening,  all  on  your  account."  Here  the  sur- 
geon signalled  significantly  to  the  soldier,  and,  silently,  wonderingly, 
Hunter  withdrew.  " 'Tisn't  only  Truscott.  My  wife's  jumped  on 
me  with  both  feet;  says  I've  insulted  you, — done  notiiing  but  make 
enemies  ever  since  I  came  into  the  — th.  Why,  I've  been  catching  it 
right  and  left,  doc — colonel;  haven't  had  a  moment's  peace.  What 
d'ye  think  that  dash-dashed  long-legged  lath  of  a  man  Blake  says  to 
me,  not  an  hour  ago,  begad?  I  asked  him  if  he  thought  you  had  any 
right  to  feel  offended,  and  he  said  if  you  didn't  it  was  only  because 
everybody  agreed  that  no  notice  was  to  be  taken  of  anything  I  ever 
said.  I  never  know  whether  he's  in  earnest  or  joking.  If  I  thought 
he  meant  what  he  said,  by  God,  he'd  be  in  arrest  this  minute." 

Again  the  post  surgeon  held  up  a  warning  hand.  "  Pray  do  not 
speak  quite  so  loud,  Mainwaring,"  said  he.  *'  Some  of  my  patients 
are  trying  to  sleep.  I  beg  you  will  think  no  more  of  this  morning's 
incident.  What  you  have  said  is  more  than  sufficient.  I  am  possibly 
hypersensitive." 

And  then  it  was  the  doctor's  turn  to  be  abruptly  silenced.  For  a 
second  time  the  outer  door  was  hurriedly  opened,  silvery  voices  and  soft 
laughter  were  heard  in  the  corridor,  and  then,  marshalled  by  Blake, 
there  at  the  entrance  stood  Mrs.  Mainwaring,  and  behind  her,  silent 
and  a  trifle  pale  and  anxious-looking,  Kate  Leroy. 

"I  knew  he'd  be  coming  right  over  here,"  laughed  Mrs.  Main- 
waring. "  But,  really.  Colonel  Connell,  my  husband  is  even  more 
impetuous  in  rushing  to  make  amends  than  he  is  in  treading  on  people's 
tender  spots. — No,  don't  go  wandering  off  to  the  wards,  Kate,"  she  cried, 
for  Miss  Leroy  looked  anxiously  up  the  corridor  and  showed  a  tendency 
to  follow  her  eyes.  "  Come  now,  major,  if  you  have  finished  what  you 
were  saying  to  the  colonel,  we  want  you  to  come  home.  Indeed,"  she 
persisted,  as  she  saw  how  angrily  his  eyes  w^ere  regarding  Blake, 
"you've  got  to  come  and  make  your  peace  with  us  now,  for  you  were 
simply  unbearable  all  through  dinner,  and  we  had  to  ask  Captain 
Blake  to  escort  us  in  search  of  you."  Then,  as  Mainwaring  still  held 
back  as  though  striving  to  speak,  she  seized  his  arm.  "  Come.  Indeed," 
lowering  her  voice,  "  I  must  speak  with  you  before  you  go  any  further 
in  that  case."     And  then  did  Connell  feel  sure  she  spoke  of  Hunter. 

An  instant  later  he  was  surer  still,  for  in  came  an  attendant,  alarm 
on  his  face. 


518  RAY'S  RECRUIT. 

"Did  the  post  surgeon  give  Hunter  permission  to  leave  hospital? 
He's  picked  up  his  coat  and  gone,  sir." 

Outside  the  raoon  was  shining  brightly  on  the  glistening  snow. 
Objects  were  plainly  visible  over  one  hundred  yards  away.  Main- 
waring  sprang  to  the  door  with  excitement  in  his  eyes  and  flew  to  the 
porch,  the  others  following,  in  every  stage  of  astonishment.  Outside 
the  gate,  as  luck  would  have  it,  was  marching  a  relief  of  the  guard,  the 
men  swinging  rapidly  by  in  their  heavy  winter  dress,  the  carbine  butts 
grasped  in  their  fur-gloved  hands,  the  gleaming  barrels  tossed  over  the 
shoulder.  Over  towards  the  trader's  store  a  tall,  slender  form  in  sol- 
dier's overcoat  was  rapidly  striding.  Mainwaring's  voice  rang  out  with 
the  force  and  volume  of  a  trombone.  "Halt  your  relief,  corporal! 
Catch  that  man  over  yonder,  quick,  and  bring  him  here." 

Astonished,  the  corporal  obeyed.  "Relief,  halt!"  he  ordered. 
"  Come  with  me,  two  of  you."  Then  away  he  rushed.  "Halt!  Halt, 
you  !"  were  the  next  shouts,  and  all  in  a  moment  they  had  overhauled 
the  offending  soldier.  There  was  brief  parley,  and  then  back  they 
came,  the  unresisting  prisoner  between  the  two  members  of  the  guard. 

"  Oh,"  almost  whimpered   Mrs.  Mainwaring,  "  do  hear  Captain 

Blake  first.     He's  sure  there's  some  mistake "  then  broke  off  short 

with  exclamation  of  amaze.  From  the  lips  of  Kate  Leroy,  too,  there 
burst  a  stifled  cry,  for  there  before  them,  his  clear-cut,  refined  face  per- 
fectly outlined  in  the  brilliant  moonlight, — there,  clad  in  the  rough 
garb  of  a  private  soldier,  stood  the  courteous,  helpful,  distinguished- 
looking  stranger  of  the  night  of  the  collision. 

Mainwaring  must  have  had  a  love  for  the  dramatic. 

"  Corporal  Rice,"  said  he,  deliberately,  "  take  Trooper  Hunter  to 
the  guard-house  and  confine  him  by  my  order  on  the  charge  of  con- 
niving at  the  robbery  and  destruction  of  the  magazine." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


In  the  forty-eight  hours  that  followed  the  arrest  and  incarceration 
of  Trooper  Hunter  one  excitement  chased  another  with  such  rapidity 
that  it  was  hard  to  keep  track  of  them,  and  Mainwaring,  with  almost 
a  sigh  of  relief,  welcomed  the  premature  return  of  old  Stannard,  to 
whom  somebody  (believed  to  be  Ray)  had  given  the  tip  by  telegraph 
that  the  sooner  he  got  back  the  better. 

"  Take  this  infernal  regiment  and  see  what  you  can  do  with  it," 
said  Mainwaring,  despairingly.  "  I  thought  I  knew  something  about 
soldiering,  but  there's  too  d — d  much  individuality  in  the  — th  for 
me." 

And,  beside  Trooper  Hunter's  incarceration  on  the  charge  of  aiding 
and  abetting  in  the  robbery  and  destruction  of  the  magazine,  the  senior 
major  had  the  following  matters  now  to  tackle :  Captain  Blake,  in 
arrest  for  using  insubordinate  language  to  the  commanding  ofiicer  ("said 
that  compared  with  my  mental  condition  the  magazine  wasn't  a  cir- 
cumstance in  the  way  of  a  wreck,  begad,"  explained  Mainwaring  to  his 


RAY'S  RECRUIT.  519 

senior,  who  strove  to  keep  a  straight  face,  but  couldn't);  Mrs.  Merri- 
weather,  disappeared  since  the  night  of  Hunter's  transfer  from  hospital 
to  guard-house ;  Sergeant  Merriweather,  transferred  from  guard-house 
to  hospital  with  a  bullet  through  one  lung  and  a  knife-wound  in  the 
other ;  Corporal  Croxford  and  Trooper  Elzey,  deserted, — two  hitherto 
shining  lights  of  the  garrison  and  admirers  of  Mrs.  Merriweather 
(could  Mrs.  Merriweather  have  gone  with  either  of  them?  asked  some 
of  the  ladies,  or  with  both  ?  asked  certain  brutes  among  the  officers)  ; 
and,  finally,  Lieutenant  Brady,  back  from  a  bacchanalian  bout  with  his 
kindred  spirit  Rawson,  and  now  laid  by  the  heels  in  quarters  with  an 
Irish  orderly  in  attendance,  for  doctors  would  have  nothing  to  do  with 
him. 

The  way  Stannard  sailed  in  was  characteristic.  Brady  had  not 
been  drunk  on  duty.  He  had  taken  advantage  of  the  absence  of 
Atherton  and  Stannard  to  relax  the  reins  of  his  self-control,  but  had 
only  got  a  real  good  start  when  he  sought  and  received  a  seven  days' 
leave  from  Major  Mainwaring,  which  enabled  him  to  meet  Rawson  at 
Pawnee.  This  was  about  ten  days  after  the  explosion.  He  was  to 
have  stayed  his  week  away,  but  in  two  days  suddenly  reappeared  in 
Butte,  full  of  whiskey  and  information.  Mainwaring,  who  knew  him 
but  slightly,  received  a  despatch  saying  that  he  had  news  of  most  im- 
portant character  resulting  from  discoveries  "he  had  made  at  Pawnee, 
and  urging  the  commanding  officer  to  meet  him  at  the  railway  station 
on  his  arrival,  which  Mainwaring  did,  and  then  the  very  next  night 
ordered  Hunter's  arrest. 

"  I  always  said  that  when  Brady  drank  he  could  be  depended  upon 
to  make  an  ass  of  himself,"  said  Blake,  "and  this  proves  it."  But 
what  Brady's  revelations  might  have  been  Mainwaring  refused  to  dis- 
close. It  was  enough,  he  said,  to  hang  Hunter  high  as  the  hayman, 
and  the  hay-contractor,  in  Mainwaring's  opinion,  was  the  double- 
dashedest  scoundrel  that  ever  lived.  This  statement  so  rejoiced  Blake's 
heart  that  he  repeated  it  broadcast,  and  was  in  the  merriest  of  moods, 
until  he  heard  that  Mainwaring  had  forbidden  Captain  Ray's  having 
an  interview  with  his  imprisoned  recruit.  Then  Blake  l)oiled  over  and 
made  the  odious  comparison  between  Mainwaring's  brain  and  the 
blown-up  building  which  resulted  in  his  own  summary  confinement  to 
quarters.  Brady's  leave  had  still  two  days  to  run  when  Stannard  got 
back,  but  Stannard  had  heard  enough  of  his  doings  in  Butte  to  war- 
rant the  immediate  action  taken.  An  officer  was  sent  with  the  post 
ambulance  and  orders  to  fetch  him  forthwith.  Then  and  there  Dana 
waited  on  him  with  the  major's  message  to  the  eifect  that  he  would  give 
him  twenty-four  hours  in  which  to  sober  up  and  face  the  music,  and 
Brady  had  sense  enough  to  know  he  had  no  time  to  lose. 

Then  another  snarl  had  to  be  disentangled,  in  which  Stannard  could 
not  help,  since  it  was  purely  domestic.  The  veteran  ])ost  surgeon  had 
had  a  flare-up  with  Mainwaring,  all  on  account  of  Trooper  Hunter. 
The  doctor  protested  against  his  patient's  being  put  in  the  guard- 
house, declaring  that,  no  matter  what  the  charges  were,  he  was  entitled 
to  humane  as  well  as  medical  treatment.  Mainwaring  said  the  man 
of  his  own  volition  had  removed  himself  from  hospital,  and  therefore 


520  BAY'S  RECRUIT. 

deserved  no  consideration.  The  doctor  said  if  Hunter  were  kept  in 
the  prison  room  with  the  garrison  malefactors  over-night  he  would 
hold  Ma  in  waring  responsible  for  ill  results  that  were  certain  to  occur, 
which  stacrgered  Mainwaring  for  a  minute.  He  finally  compromised, 
ordered  Hunter  sent  back  to  hospital,  but  put  in  a  room  by  himself 
with  a  sentry  at  the  door  and  another  at  the  window,  and  orders  pro- 
hibiting his  being  seen  or  spoken  to  by  anybody  except  the  doctors  and 
the  steward,  unless  it  were  himself  or  on  his  ov/n  written  order. 

Then  Mainwaring  had  to  go  home  and  face  the  women-folk,  and 
there  for  the  first  time  (Miss  Leroy,  shocked  and  stunned,  having  gone 
to  her  room)  did  Mrs.  Mainwaring  have  him  to  herself  and  tell  him 
of  the  identification  of  Hunter  as  the  polite  and  helpful  stranger  of 
the  night  on  the  train.  Then  furthermore  did  she  add  her  plea  to  the 
doctor's,  and  finally  admit  that,  much  to  her  own  distress  and  conster- 
nation, she  feared  Pet  was  actually  deeply  if  not  indeed  very  painfully 
interested  in  this  mysterious  trooper.  In  justice  to  Pet,  she  must  say 
that  that  young  lady  was  probably  unaware  of  the  feeling  that  had 
been  growing  upon  her  until  the  denouement  of  that  evening.  Slie, 
Mrs.  Mainwaring,  had  striven  to  wean  her  from  the  morning  services, 
but  without  success,  and  now  she  knew  not  what  had  happened,  for 
Pet  had  shut  herself  in  her  room  and  begged  to  be  left  undisturbed. 

Which  was  more  than  "  Pet"  would  permit  the  major  to  be  next 
day,  however,  for  she  was  up  and  on  the  lookout  for  him  on  his  return 
from  stables.  He  marvelled  and  was  shocked  at  the  pallor  of  her 
face,  the  trouble  iu  her  eyes.  Without  preliminary  remark,  she  went 
straight  to  her  subject. 

"  Major  Mainwaring,  at  what  time  and  where  may  I  see  Trooper 
Hunter,  as  you  call  him,  to-day  ?" 

"  Well — 1,  I'm  sure  I  don't  know,  Kate;"  for  the  major,  like  many 
a  lion  among  men,  was  a  lamb  among  women.  "  I — don't  think  you 
— ought  to  wish  to  see  him." 

"  But  I  do  wish  it,  major.  Moreover,  I  should  be  ashamed  of 
myself  if  I  did  not."  And  the  reply  conveyed  all  the  more  weight 
because  of  the  calm  decision  of  her  manner. 

And  so  the  first  written  order  Mainwaring  signed  was  one  to  per- 
mit the  bearer  to  visit  the  prisoner  Hunter,  and  at  ten  o'clock  that 
morning,  when,  pale,  calm,  but  resolute  as  ever,  and  smiling  still, 
despite  her  sleepless  night.  Miss  Leroy  entered  the  hospital  for  the 
customary  reading,  she  sent  the  steward  to  tell  Mr.  Hunter  that  she 
hoped  he  would  be  able  to  see  her  soon  after  eleven,  and  then  indomi- 
tably went  on  with  her  self-appointed  task. 

At  eleven-fifteen  the  post  surgeon  came,  silently  gave  her  his  arm, 
as  they  left  the  big  sunshiny  ward,  and  led  her  to  a  door-way  up  the 
corridor  in  front  of  which  a  sentry  was  pacing, — a  sentry  who  halted 
and  presented  arms  as  the  doctor  opened  the  door  and  ushered  her  in. 

It  was  that  night  that  Merriweather  was  brought  back  from  town 
to  the  guard-house,  shot  and  stabbed  as  has  been  said.  Mrs.  Merri- 
w'eather  had  fled  during  the  previous  night,  and  the  sergeant  had  been 
missing  since  reveille.  It  was  the  next  night  that  Stannard  returned 
and  had  Brady  hunted  up.      Then  came  new  labors  and  honors  for 


EAV'S  RECRUIT.  521 

Sheriff  Conway,  and  this  time  there  were  no  troops  to  divide  the 
honors  of  the  capture  with  him,  for  his  prisoners  were  deserters  all, — 
one  from  an  over-indulgent  husband,  the  others  from  a  not  too  indul- 
gent Uncle  Sam.  Pawnee  was  the  Mecca  of  the  fugitives.  Thither 
had  Mrs.  Merriweather  fled  to  a  married  sister.  Thither  had  Crox- 
ford  and  Eizey  followed,  after  having  remained  to  cover  her  retreat 
and  settle  matters  with  the  sergeant, — which  they  had  done  only  too 
effectually,  for  Merriweather's  days  were  numbered. 

Two  days  later  Stannard  had  straightened  out  affairs  at  the  post  in 
marvellous  fashion  (all  save  matters  domestic, — wherein,  said  he,  no 
wise  man  meddled),  and  the  man  to  start  him  on  the  right  scent  was 
that  scapegrace  the  Kid,  whom  he  had  disciplined  time  and  again  in 
Arizona  days  and  appreciated  at  his  true  value.  The  Kid's  derisive 
and  explosive  laughter  when  told  that  Major  Main  waring  had  ordered 
Trooper  Hunter  confined  as  accessory  to  the  magazine  robbery,  etc., 
had  been  promptly  reported  to  Stannard  on  his  return,  and  that  versa- 
tile young  reprobate  was  sent  for,  marched  to  the  adjutant's  office,  and 
collared  by  his  old-time  troop  commander, — for  one  of  his  several 
enlistments  the  Kid  had  spent  with  Stannard,  and  knew  him  well. 

And  this  was  what  the  Kid  divulged.  Every  one  knew  he  could 
use  a  lasso  like  a  cowboy,  and  Croxford  had  asked  him,  just  for 
deviltry,  to  join  him  and  "some  other  fellers"  in  roj)ing  the  swell, 
Hunter,  on  the  midnight  relief;  and  he  was  going  to,  but  happened  to 
hear  tiiat  Merriweather  was  in  it,  and  that  set  him  to  thinking.  He'd 
heard  the  women  talking  about  Mrs.  Morriweather's  boasting  that  she 
had  made  a  conquest  of  the  swell  recruit,  and  he  remembered  Merri- 
weather's  black  eye  and  the  rumor  that  it  was  Hunter  "laid  him  out," 
and  the  Kid  scented  mischief  and  backed  out.  Then  Croxford  came 
and  told  him  it  would  be  best  for  him  to  keep  his  ])romise,  as  he  might 
get  the  credit  of  it  anyhow;  which  prompted  the  Kid  to  tell  them  all 
to  go  to  Ballyhack.  But  when  Elzey  and  Hughes  later  came  and 
"stumped  him"  to  join  them  in  a  spree  to  town  that  night,  and  dis- 
played their  money,  he  forgot  Croxford's  threat  in  the  prospect  of 
whiskey,  and,  anything  for  a  frolic,  started  with  them,  only  to  run 
foul  of  the  patrol  just  across  the  creek. 

But  the  moment  he  heard  of  Hunter's  being  hauled  out  of  the 
stream  after  the  explosion  the  whole  plot  dawned  on  him,  and  some- 
thing more ;  for  he  remembered  the  stories  of  forage  and  cartridges 
being  sold  in  town,  and  saw  that  it  was  planned  to  fix  the  guilt  on 
Hunter,  and,  if  not,  to  fix  the  crime  of  the  assault  on  the  sacred  person 
of  a  sentry  upon  himself,  the  innocent  Kid.  Then  Stannard  would 
have  cross-questioned  the  two  deserters,  for  such  they  were,  despite 
stalwart  protestations  that  they  were  only  out  for  twenty-four  hours' 
fun ;  but  detectives,  ferreting  their  movements,  warned  him  to  make 
no  attempt.  Merriweather  might  make  an  ante-mortem  statement,  but 
not  these  men.  Neither  would  Mrs.  Merriweather  "  peach."  She  was 
in  the  county  jail,  begging  piteously  to  be  taken  to  her  Danny,  and 
declaring  he  and  she  were  only  going  to  Pawnee  to  see  her  sister  for  a 
day,  and  he  must  have  been  waylaid  in  town. 

But  while  Stannard  was  waiting  for  Merriweather  to  regain  con- 


522  RAY'S  RECRUIT. 

sciousness  and  Brady  to  become  once  more  a  responsible  being,  there 
came  still  another  witness,  an  old  carpenter  and  new  citizen  of"  Butte, 
who  appeared  at  Ransom,  sorely  troubled  on  account  of  a  friend  there 
enlisted  whom  he  hadn't  seen  for  many  a  day, — not,  in  fact,  since  the 
morning  of  the  train- robbery, — and  had  just  heard  of  him  as  having 
been  arrested  for  complicity  in  the  robbery  of  the  magazine.  Stan- 
nard  heard  hie  story,  which  was  that  the  accused  was  a  man  of  means, 
a  charitable,  kind  gentleman  who,  just  for  a  whim,  had  come  out  to 
enlist  for  a  while  in  the  cavalry  ;  that  he  had  helped  him,  the  carpen- 
ter, to  a  home  and  work  and  his  wife  to  health,  and  his  clothes  and 
things  were  all  at  his,  the  ex-tramp  carpenter's,  house,  and  couldn't  he 
see  Mr.  Hunter?  Whereupon  Stannard  said,  "Come  on,"  took  him 
to  the  hospital,  and  marched  into  the  room  where,  seated  in  an  easy- 
chair,  was  the  invalid  benefactor,  and  with  him  the  old  surgeon  and 
the  young  lady.  Dr.  Jayne,  it  seems,  had  suddenly  discontinued  his 
attentions  to  both  the  patient  and  the  nurse. 

It  struck  Stannard  unpleasantly  at  the  time  that  no  one  of  thera 
looked  pleased  at  his  coming ;  but  men  are  obtuse.  A  woman  would 
have  appreciated  the  impropriety  of  interruption  at  a  glance. 

And  even  while  they  stood  there,  hesitant,  at  the  door,  the  steward 
came  hurriedly  to  say  that  Merriweather  was  conscious,  and  had  asked 
for  his  wife  and  a  priest.  The  two  veteran  majors,  trooper  and  doctor, 
hastened  at  once  to  the  greater  ward,  and  Hunter,  smiling,  held  forth 
a  long,  thin,  white  hand. 

"  The  ring  I  left  with  you  would  slide  off  the  biggest  of  these 
fingers  now,  wouldn't  it?"  he  asked. — "  Miss  Leroy,  this  is  Mr.  Mur- 
ray, now  a  resident  of  Butte,  but  a  fellow-passenger  with  us  on  the 
night  of  the  collision." 

Before  the  sounding  of  the  retreat  that  night  and  the  boom  of  the 
sunset  gun,  Sergeant  Merriweather's  soul  had  drifted  away  over  the 
dreary  waste  of  snow-clad  slopes  and  leagues  of  prairie,  but  not  before 
he  had  made  clean  breast  of  all  his  trials,  temptations,  and  downfall. 
His  vain,  empty-headed,  frivolous  wife  was  brought  out  from  Butte, 
but  proved  scant  comfort  to  his  dying  hours.  To  Father  Keefe  and 
Stannard,  Blake  and  Ray,  he  told  his  piteous  tale,  Kittie  sniffling, 
sobbing,  wailing  at  intervals,  but  ever  intently  listening.  One  ex- 
travagance after  another  had  swamped  him.  He  used  the  money  of 
the  men's  Athletic  and  Dramatic  Association,  of  which  he  was  treasurer. 
He  stole  forage  from  the  stables  and  sold  it  to  a  dealer  in  Butte  to  cover 
his  shortage,  but,  that  not  yielding  enough,  planned  the  robbery  of  the 
magazine,  which  took  place,  Croxford  and  Elzey  assisting,  one  furiously 
stormy  night.  They  worked  the  old  ordnance  sergeant  with  liquor  and 
got  his  keys,  took  out  the  boxes  of  cartridges,  revolvers,  etc.,  and,  lo ! 
the  wagon  of  their  confederates  in  Butte  failed  to  come.  It  was  beaten 
back  by  the  storm.  They  then  ran  everytiiing  to  the  stack  nearest 
Merriweather's  stable  and  cottage  and  hid  the  plunder  underneath. 
Dawn  almost  surprised  them  at  the  task.  Luckily,  the  old  sergeant 
was  made  too  sick  to  go  to  his  magazine  for  two  days.  They  had 
arranged  for  the  wagon  to  come  out  the  next  night,  and  then  to  blow 
up  the  magazine  and  so  destroy  evidence  of  their  guilt,  but  again  there 


RAY'S  RECRUIT.  523 

was  failure;  and  Merri weather  was  at  his  wits'  end  when  he  heard  the 
colonel  say  that  stack  must  be  moved  on  the  morrow.  Then,  rain  or 
shine,  snow  or  sleet,  the  wagon  had  to  come,  and  then  it  was  found, 
too  late  to  change  the  hour,  that  the  swell  recruit,  Hunter,  was  on  the 
very  post  that  guarded  the  stacks  and  stables,  and  would  be  there  at 
the  very  time  they  needed  to  act.  So  to  robbery  they  were  compelled 
to  add  assault. 

The  plunder  was  safely  run  off  to  Butte  and  paid  for  at  about  one- 
fifth  its  cost  and  one-tenth  its  value  in  a  frontier  city.  They  got  their 
money,  and  felt  measurably  safe  so  long  as  Hunter  remained  in  hos- 
pital, used  up  as  a  result  of  the  fearful  contusions  he  had  received. 
But  his  wife  had  told  them  of  her  encounter  with  and  revelations  to 
Hunter,  and  their  fears  of  discovery  were  such  that  Croxford  and 
Elzey  determined  to  desert.  The  news  that  Hunter  was  arrested  as 
having  guilty  knowledge  of  the  whole  affair  was  a  thunderbolt.  Now 
in  self-defence  he  would  have  to  produce  even  a  woman  as  witness, 
and  that  woman  Merriweather's  wife.  'Twas  Merriweather  who  bade 
her  go  at  once  to  Pawnee,  whither  Croxford  and  Elzey  followed.  The 
three  men  were  to  meet  and  divide  their  spoils  in  a  certain  saloon  in 
town.  The  first  two  demanded  more  than  their  share.  There  was  a 
quarrel,  then  a  murderous  battle.  They  took  all  he  had  and  fled,  but, 
with  fatuous  blundering,  had  gone  to  Pawnee  to  buy  her  silence,  and 
there  all  three  were  jailed.     Hunter  was  an  innocent  man. 

And  when  this  was  told  to  Mainwaring  he  bellowed,  "  Then  what 
in  dash-dashnation  did  Brady  mean  by  his  story  ?"  For  Brady's  story 
was  practically  this. 

That  he  and  Rawson  occupied  a  room  together  over  the  one  fine 
restaurant  in  Pawnee,  and  one  night  they  were  having  supper  in  one 
box  when  a  party  of  four  railway  hands  came  into  that  adjoining, 
talking  loudly  about  the  engineer  of  783,  old  Jim  Long,  and  the  swell 
that  engineered  the  hold-up, — how  he  had  pretended  to  be  out  there  to 
enlist  in  the  cavalry,  how  he  had  tried  to  ride  with  and  get  points  from 
Long,  and  had  two  or  three  of  his  gang  on  that  very  train  all  ready 
for  business,  but  was  scared  off  by  the  fact  that  there  was  a  car-load 
of  soldiers.  Then  when  the  train-robbery  did  take  place  they  nabbed 
seven  of  the  followers  after  a  long  chase,  but  never  got  the  leaders  at 
all.  Why,  one  of  them  was  right  there  at  the  fort  this  very  day, 
enlisted  so  as  to  divert  suspicion,  and  he  was  keeping  his  hand  in  by 
engineering  other  robberies.  That  magazine  explosion  they  had  read 
about  was  all  his  doing. 

If  Brady  had  not  been  addled  he  could  have  remembered  that 
Hunter  had  enlisted  before  the  train-robbery  took  place.  But  he 
posted  back  to  Butte,  gave  Mainwaring  a  wildly  exaggerated  account 
of  what  he  had  heard,  vowed  he  could  bring  the  men  with  him  next 
trip,  and  Mainwaring,  already  suspicious,  had  ordered  Hunter's  arrest 
accordingly. 

The  fact  that  Hunter  could  not  have  been  connected  with  the  robbery 
was  pointed  out  to  Mainwaring  as  they  sat  in  consultation,  Stannard, 
Mainwaring,  Truscott,  and  Dana,  in  the  adjutant's  office  that  night, 
Blake  being  still  in  limbo,  and  Ray  being  excluded  because  he  had 


524  RAV'S  RECRUIT. 

resented  Mainwaring's  refusal  to  allow  him  an  interview  with  his  im- 
prisoned trooper.  It  was  pointed  out  that  Hunter's  enlistment  occurred 
some  time  previous  to  the  train-robbery,  and  none  present  happened  to 
think  of  the  fact  that  he  had  asked  for  and  obtained  a  pass  the  very- 
night  before  it  happened.  Then  Brady  was  sent  for,  and  with  him 
came  his  comrade,  still  on  leave  from  Winthrop,  Mr.  Rawson. 

"  You  hear  how  completely  Sergeant  Merriweather's  ante-mortem 
statement  has  cleared  Hunter,  gentlemen,"  said  Stannard.  "  Now  I 
suppose  you  are  satisfied." 

"As  to  that  point,  major,  yes,"  said  Mr.  Rawson,  with  preter- 
natural sang-froid.  *'  But  I  understand  you  have  ordered  his  release, 
and  he  is  to  come  here  presently  for  his  exoneration.     Is  that  so?" 

"  Certainly,"  growled  Stannard.     "  What  of  it  ?" 

"  Well,  first  I  would  ask  the  trooper  when  he  comes  to  say  where 
he  was  at  the  time  of  the  robbery  of  the  train."  And  Rawson's  face 
beamed  with  the  consciousness  of  calm  conviction  of  an  erring  brother's 
guilt, 

Stannard  nodded  brusquely.  "  Entirely  unnecessary,  Mr.  Raw- 
son,"  said  he  :  '*  that  has  already  been  settled.  He  has  witnesses  in 
plenty — three,  at  least,  here  at  the  post  or  in  town — to  establish  where 
he  was  at  that  very  time.  He  spent  that  night  and  the  morning  follow- 
ing at  the  house  of  one  Murray,  a  carpenter  in  Butte." 

Brady  and  Rawson  exchanged  glances  indicative  of  incredulity, 
but  Rawson  then  went  on  : 

"  In  justice  to  my  friend  Mr.  Brady  and  myself,  I  ask  that  he  be 
required  then  to  bring  with  him  the  silver-topped  flask  the  steward  says 
he  has  there  in  his  room  this  very  day,  and  explain  where  he  was  the 
morning  of  the  train -robbery,  if  not  with  the  robbers." 

Stannard  snorted  derisively,  but  sent  the  order  as  requested,  and 
just  as  the  first  call  was  sounding  for  tattoo.  Trooper  Hunter,  pallid, 
yet  calm  and  self-possessed,  and  decidedly  prepossessing,  was  ushered 
in  and  stood  patiently  at  attention. 

Stannard  looked  him  carefully  over, and  said,  "Did  you  bring  that 
flask?"  to  which  the  soldier  calmly  replied, — 

"I  did,  sir,  rather  unwillinglv." 

"Why  unwillingly?" 

"  Because,"  and  here  a  quiet  smile  flickered  over  his  face,  "  it  is 
hardly  a  part  of  a  private  soldier's  equipment.  But  it  has  only  been 
in  my  possession  a  few  hours  since  my  joining  the  regiment,  and  I've 
not  had  time  to  send  it  away." 

Then  Stannard  turned  in  his  chair  and  glared  at  Brady  and  Rawson. 
"  Well,  what  do  you  wish  to  ask  about  this  flask?" 

Rawson  rose  deliberately.  "  First,  that  it  be  placed  here  on  the 
table  where  all  can  see  it;  then,  that  I  maybe  permitted  to  read  this." 
And  he  unfolded  a  newspaper. 

Very  coolly  the  soldier  stepped  forward  and  handed  the  handsome 
toy  to  Stannard,  who  gazed  admiringly  at  it  and  placed  it  in  the  full 
light  of  the  lamps  on  the  table  of  the  commanding  officer. 

Then,  clearing  his  throat,  the  lieutenant  began  : 

"Among  the  passengers  arriving  in  this  city  from  the  East  to-day 


RAV'S  RECRUIT.  525 

is  Lord  Luuemouth,  eldest  son  and  heir  of  the  Earl  of  Lancaster. 
Lord  Lunemouth  is  travelling  for  his  health,  and  has  been  advised  to 
seek  the  glorious  climate  of  California,  but  has  met  with  unpleasant 
experiences  on  the  way.  His  train  was  held  up  by  desperadoes  in 
Wyoming,  the  passengers  were  robbed,  and  his  personal  losses  con- 
sisted of  some  two  hundred  dollars  in  cash,  a  superb  watch,  and  a 
handsome,  silver-topped  flask,  the  arms  of  his  noble  house  engraved 
on  the  stopper.  The  latter  he  valued  as  a  keepsake.  Here  follows," 
said  Mr.  Rawson,  "a  description  of  the  arms.  Here,"  said  he,  lifting 
the  flask,  "  are  the  arms  and  motto  of  the  house  of  Lancaster ;  and 
now  perhaps  this  gentleman,  whom  I  perfectly  well  remember  seeing 
in  very  different  attire  aboard  the  Pacific  express  the  night  of  the  col- 
lision, will  explain  how  he  came  into  possession  of  the  missing  flask 
of  Lord  Lunemouth  ?" 

Then  Mainwaring's  face  was  indeed  a  sight  to  see,  but  the  amaze 
deepened,  broadened,  almost  overmastered  him,  when,  with  perfect 
composure,  the  strange  trooper  replied, — 

"  With  pleasure ;  though  this  is  not  Lord  Lunemouth's,  but  the 
mate  to  it.  It  was  given  to  me  by  a  member  of  the  house  of  Lan- 
caster months  ago.  At  the  time  of  the  train-robbery  it  was  not  in  ray 
possession  at  all.  For  further  information  on  that  head  I  must  refer 
you  to  Major  Mainwaring." 

"  House  of  Lancaster  be  bio  wed !"  was  that  veteran's  explosive  reply. 
"It  was  in  my  house  right  here  at  Ransom  at  that  very  time.  Say, 
Rawson,  you  and  Brady  haven't  had  any  more  sense  in  this  matter 
than— I  have !" 


CHAPTEE  XIV. 


A  REMARKABLE  winter,  from  a  cavalry  point  of  view,  was  that ; 
the  first  which  the  old  regiment  spent  at  Ransom,  but,  like  many  other 
things  temporal  and  most  things  military,  it  came  to  an  end,  and  people 
looking  back  upon  it  afterwards  declared  they  were  rather  sorry,  after 
all,  for  there  was  so  much  to  make  it  vividly  interesting  at  the  time 
and  to  form  topics  for  talk  in  the  weeks  to  come. 

Sensations  flattened  out  lamentably  for  nearly  a  fortnight  after  the 
quashing  of  Mainwaring's  martial  indictment  against  "the  swell  of  the 
sorrel  troop,"  as  Blake  described  Hunter,  and  when  they  reopened,  about 
the  height  of  the  holiday  season,  other  names  and  households  than  those 
herein  mentioned  were  mainly  conspicuous,  although  Blake  managed 
to  mix  in  more  than  one  of  them.  Between  him  and  Mainwaring  was 
patched  a  truce,  based  primarily  on  the  latter's  admission  that  he  had 
probably  made  a  mess  of  the  whole  business,  but  really  couldn't  be 
held  responsible  in  the  face  of  such  testimony  as  was  offered  by  promi- 
nent officers  of  the  — th, — Messrs.  Brady  and  Rawson.  Then  Blake 
apologized  for  comparing  the  head  of  the  junior  major  to  the  wreck 
of  the  magazine,  and  peace  with  honor,  though  not  without  difficulty, 
was  established  so  far  as  the  men  were  concerned.  It  was,  in  fact,  less 
difficult  than  in  the  case  of  the  women,  for  Miss  Leroy  had,  it  seems, 


526  RAV'S  RECRUIT. 

a  very  pretty  will  of  her  own,  that  Mrs.  Mainwaring  could  neither 
bend  nor  break.  Mrs.  Mainwaring  was  of  an  old  and  distinguished 
family,  and  so  was  Miss  Leroy,  and  the  woman  Miss  Leroy  most  seri- 
ously affected  was  Mrs.  Blake,  nee  Bryan,  daughter  of  a  rather  dissolute 
old  ranchman  once  well  known  about  Russell.  It  stung  Mrs.  Main- 
waring that  her  niece  should  have,  as  she  said  to  her  and  whispered  to 
others,  so  little  pride.  The  story  spread  in  the  regiment  through  what 
was  whispered,  not  through  what  was  said,  and  Miss  Leroy,  already 
popular,  became  a  hot  favorite  forthwith. 

She  had  come  to  spend  the  winter,  but  as  soon  as  the  holidays  were 
over  and  her  precious  post  children  had  had  their  Christmas-tree  and 
other  Christmas  joys — even  before  the  new  year  was  fairly  ushered  in — 
she  returned  from  the  morning  reading  one  day  and  found  Mrs.  Main- 
waring impatiently  awaiting  her.  There  were  invitations  for  dinners, 
etc.,  extending  a  week,  even  ten  days,  ahead,  and  Mrs.  Mainwaring 
wished  to  know  which  it  was  her  niece's  pleasure  to  accept,  and  was 
aghast  at  the  reply :  any  that  might  be  acceptable  to  aunty  up  to 
January  5th,  none  for  her  after  that  date,  as  she  would  then  have  to 
return  to  New  York. 

Remonstrance  proved  utterly  useless.  The  second  week  in  January 
saw  Miss  Leroy,  accompanied  to  the  station  by  most  of  the  ladies  and 
a  few  of  their  lords,  safely  aboard  the  East-bound  train,  with  old  783 
and  Jimmy  Long  in  the  lead.  There  were  dozens  of  the  children 
there  to  bid  her  good-by.  There  were  even  a  number  of  enlisted  men, 
with  whom  she  warmly  shook  hands  before  she  took  her  seat  in  the 
roomy  Pullman.  Captain  and  Mrs.  Blake,  her  devoted  friends,  went 
with  her  as  far  as  Omaha,  where  she  was  to  join  another  party. 
Mrs.  Mainwaring  fairly  dissolved  in  tears  as  they  kissed  each  other 
good-by ;  for,  after  all,  Kate  was  the  daughter  of  a  long-loved,  long- 
lost  brother,  if  she  was  headstrong  and  independent,  and  never  yet 
had  woman  left  the  dingy  precincts  of  old  Ransom  so  generally  and 
thoroughly  esteemed. 

But  every  one  wondered  for  all  that — even  the  many  who  would 
not  give  their  thought  expression — whether  an  understanding  did  not 
exist,  whether  she  was  not  going  with  the  expectation  of  meeting 
somewhere  the  remarkable  recruit  by  the  name  of  Hunter,  for  Hunter 
had  left  on  a  month's  furlough  just  ten  days  before. 

Mrs.  Mainwaring  declared  that  Kate's  sole  reason  for  going  was  that 
she  was  too  conscientious.  She  found  her  health  restored  (no  one  re- 
membered having  heard  of  it  as  impaired),  and  she  felt  she  must  return 
to  her  kindred  in  the  East  and  resume  her  interrupted  duties  there.  But 
Mrs.  Stannard  and  other  wise  women  well  knew  that  the  main  reason 
for  her  going  was  that  life  with  Uncle  and  Aunt  Mainwaring  was  not 
as  peaceful  or  congenial,  despite  their  pride  in  and  affection  for  her,  as 
it  should  have  been. 

And  then  there  was  still  another  and  more  vital  reason.  "  Every- 
body" was  talking  about  her  interest  in  Trooper  Hunter  and  his 
undoubted  admiration  for  her.  But  Hunter  had  had  to  go  back  to 
duty  with  his  troop,  had  met  Miss  Leroy  only  on  the  long  afternoons 
and  evenings  when  he,  with  two  or  three  other  blue-jackets,  worked  at 


RAY'S  RECRUIT.  527 

the  festooning  and  decorating,  under  her  active  supervision,  of  the  post 
assembly  hall.  Then  he  had  had  an  interview  with  Ray,  his  cap- 
tain, that  brought  matters  to  a  climax.  He  applied  for  and  received 
his  furlough  in  the  midst  of  the  holidays, — left  his  kit  with  the  first 
sergeant,  his  uniform  with  Murray,  the  carpenter,  and  Butte  in  a  snow- 
storm, the  Pullman  smoker,  and  familiar-looking  tweeds,  travelling- 
cap,  and  ulster,  at  which  Jim  Long  stared  in  astonished  recognition 
when,  as  he  alighted  from  his  cab  at  the  Junction,  a  swell  civilian 
stepped  up  and  smilingly  tendered  him  a  cigar. 

Whatever  clouds  had  lowered  over  the  house  of  Hunter  were 
wafted  away  the  night  of  that  decisive  conference  of  the  powers,  when 
Stannard  and  Truscott  demolished  the  theories  of  Mainwaring-  and  the 
aspersions  of  Brady  &  Company.  Even  Conway  had  limped  out  of 
his  buggy  a  few  days  later  to  say  he,  too,  had  been  fooled.  (He  was 
destined  to  be  fooled  still  more  when  a  jail-delivery  turned  loose  his 
seven  star  performers  on  Christmas  Eve.)  Corporal  Croxford  and 
Trooper  Elzey  still  maintained  their  conviction  of  Hunter's  guilt,  until 
Mrs.  Merriweather  weakened  over  her  husband's  death  and  confirmed 
his  whole  confession.  The  Kid  was  enjoying  a  temporary  relapse  into 
virtue,  and  was  wearing  a  halo  until  pay-day.  Mrs.  Merriweather, 
bailed  out  by  Freeman,  was  living  in  temporary  retirement  in  Butte, 
yet  already  beginning  to  "  take  notice,"  and  all  Ransom  was  wondering 
what  Trooper  Hunter  had  gone  on  thirty  days'  furlough  for,  and  bet- 
ting two  to  one  that  he  never  would  come  back,  when  he  suddenly 
came. 

He  had  been  gone  but  twenty  of  the  thirty  days.  He  reported  in 
person  in  the  nattiest  of  fatigue  uniforms  to  Captain  Ray  just  before 
stable-call  one  sharp,  clear  January  afternoon,  and  in  a  brief  conversa- 
tion asked  of  his  captain  that  he  would  send  to  Miss  Leroy  a  little 
package  he  had  brought  with  him  from  the  East,  and  was  manifestly 
disappointed  when  told  that  she  had  gone. 

Then  they  probably  had  not  met  at  all,  and  Ransom  was  off  the 
scent  again. 

Just  what  might  have  been  the  result  of  this  disappointment  had 
matters  remained  in  the  usual  midwinter  plane  of  monotony,  cannot  be 
stated.  What  did  happen  was  a  sudden  call  from  the  department  com- 
mander, a  sudden  demand  for  a  strong  escort  to  accompany  him  to  the 
Hills,  despite  the  biting  weather,  for  sacred  Indian  lands  were  being 
invaded,  and  only  his  presence  could  prevail  upon  the  Sioux  to  trust 
the  matter  of  righting  the  wrong  to  him  and  Uncle  Sam.  Him  they 
trusted  readily  enough,  but  shook  their  shaggy  heads  at  mention  of  the 
Great  Father.  ^'  Let  the  Gray  Fox  leave  enough  soldiers  here  to  drive 
away  the  would-be  miners  and  prospectors,  and  they  would  keep  the 
peace."  And  so  it  was  ordered.  March  and  April  saw  the  swell 
trooper  deeply  interested  now,  despite  longings  for  news  from  civiliza- 
tion, in  daily  contact  with  and  study  of  these  warlike  people,  learning 
their  uncouth  language,  buying  their  furs  and  bead- work,  winning  their 
good  will  by  unexpected  gifts  and  straightforward  dealing.  May  came, 
and  trouble.  Congress  was  too  busy  with  other  matters  to  heed  the 
request  of  the  President  that  the  recommendations  of  the  general  com- 


528  RAY'S  RECRUIT. 

raanding  the  department  of  the  frontier  be  immediately  carried  out. 
The  horned  cattle  and  other  supplies  failed  to  arrive.  The  Indians 
said,  "  Sold  again,"  and  scalped  an  attache  of  the  nearest  agency  as  a 
hint  of  what  might  happen  to  the  agent  himself  if  he  didn't  expedite 
those  supplies.  Mid-May  failed  to  bring  the  goods,  but  it  brought  the 
grass,  and  that  was  enough.  Storm-signals  had  been  set  for  a  fortnight, 
yet  the  tornado  burst  with  sudden  and  shocking  force.  Five  hundred 
warriors  swooped  suddenly  into  the  lower  valley  of  the  Ska.  Out  went 
every  available  man  from  Ransom,  Rossiter,  and  Winthrop,  and  there 
was  war  to  the  knife  ere  the  Gray  Fox  could  interpose. 

A  "■  dandy"  battalion  was  that  with  which  Mainwaring  danced  away 
that  sweet  May  morning,  men  and  horses  the  pictures  of  health  and 
high  condition  and  eager  for  the  field  and  the  fray.  Stannard  with 
his  four  troops  had  marched  eastward  for  the  lower  valley,  but  Main- 
waring  was  to  hasten  to  the  Hills,  gather  up  the  little  force  still  in 
stockade  at  the  nearest  agency,  then  sweep  on  down  to  join  the  others. 
The  telegraph  line  was  repaired  to  Crested  Butte,  where  the  mutiny 
began,  and  there  came  this  startling  message  just  in  time  to  meet 
them  : 

"  Sioux  agency  reports  that  Lord  Lunemouth  and  party  of  friends, 
twelve  in  all,  including  guides,  passed  uj)  the  Ska  en  route  to  the 
northern  hills  two  days  before  the  outbreak.  Use  all  means  in  your 
power  to  find  and  protect  them.  Acknowledge  receipt  and  report 
action." 

It  was  forwarded  to  Mainwaring  by  Atherton,  who  said  he  was 
coming  post-haste  to  take  command  in  person  in  that  part  of  the  field ; 
meantime  to  lose  not  a  moment,  but  do  his  best.  As  usual,  the  call 
went  out  for  Ray. 

Two  days  later,  away  up  among  the  pine-crested  heights,  hot  on 
the  trail  of  a  big  war-party  of  Indians  the  sorrel  troop  was  pushing. 
Mainwaring,  with  the  three  remaining  companies,  was  trotting  down 
into  the  valley  of  the  North  Fork  to  intercept  and  beat  back  further 
parties  should  they  be  tempted  to  follow  their  friends  in  the  search  for 
the  unsuspecting  tourists.  Atherton,  with  the  Winthrop  battalion  at 
his  heels,  was  coming  across  country  to  the  support  of  Mainwaring, 
while  old  Stannard,  on  familiar  ground,  was  rounding  up  stragglers 
down  the  Ska,  herding  them  back  to  the  agency,  and  eagerly  watching 
for  the  coming  of  the  troops  from  Rossiter  and  the  big  posts  away  to 
the  north.     Then  the  Indians  would  be  hemmed  in. 

But  meantime  what  damage  might  they  not  do!  There  were  no 
railways  then  save  the  few  trunk  lines,  no  means,  except  by  marching, 
to  reach  the  fabled  Indian  lands,  and  Lo  was  in  his  glory.  Warned 
of  their  peril,  settlers,  herders,  and  stockmen  had  taken  to  flight  and 
abandoned  the  lower  valley,  so  the  Indian  was  riding,  proud  monarch 
of  all  he  surveyed,  over  the  broad  waste  of  the  low  lands,  burning, 
pillaging,  and  raising,  as  the  newspaper  men  first  on  the  scene  expressed 
it,  "  no  scalps,  but  much  hell."  If  only  good  news  could  be  heard  of 
those  toui'ists,  all  might  yet  be  well. 

But  what  mad-brained  trick  could  have  prompted  so  hazardous  a 
picnic?     The  agent  at  Brule  Springs  swore  he  had  done  his  best  to 


RAY'S  RECRUIT.  529 

dissuade  them,  but  there  were  three  Englislimen  who  had  never  seen 
elk  and  were  possessed  with  longing  to  stalk  and  slioot  them.  They 
were  lavish  with  their  money.  Their  interpreters  talked  directly  to 
some  of  the  old  chiefs,  Thunder  Eagle  and  Rolling  Bear  especially, 
and  the  presents  made  these  warriors  caused  the  Sioux  to  clamor  for 
more,  but  won  a  lordly  permit  from  the  crafty  leaders  to  go  shoot  what 
they  would, — the  Sioux  wouldn't  care, — and  so  led  them  squarely  into 
the  trap.  Ray  had  found  the  debris  of  one  of  their  camps  towards 
noon  of  the  second  day  of  his  daring  march,  and  four  hours  later  as  he 
sped  along  their  northward  winding  trail  he  came  suddenly  upon  a  deep 
cleft  among  the  hills,  away  down  in  whose  depths  trickled  an  ice-cold 
rivulet  where  the  tourists  had  drunk  their  fill,  then  gone  on  up  the 
opposite  heights,  and  after  them,  swift  pursuing,  a  formidable  war- 
party  that  had  evidently  come  up  this  tributary  to  the  Ska  hoping  here 
to  find  and  intercept  their  prey. 

Men  and  horses  of  Ray's  troop  both  were  weary.  They  drank 
eagerly,  and  some  eyes,  already  haggard,  looked  appealingly  at  the  set 
face  of  their  captain.  Forty-eight  hours  had  they  come  with  but  scant 
halt  for  rest,  and  there  was  hardly  a  man  in  the  party  that  could  not 
have  slept  instantly  had  he  lain  down  on  that  soft,  inviting  turf, — all, 
perhaps,  but  the  indomitable  leader  and  the  tall  trooper  originally  of  the 
centre  set  of  fours,  yet  so  often  on  this  second  day  riding  side  by  side 
with,  instead  of  following  six  yards  behind,  his  commander,  the  place 
where  the  orderly  is  supposed  to  be.  Scott,  the  young  lieutenant,  who 
should  perhaps  have  taken  exception  to  such  favoritism,  seemed  to 
understand  and  object  not  at  all.  "Hunter  was  up  through  here  last 
month  with  surveyor's  escort,"  was  the  explanation,  and,  though  some 
men  might  have  growled  the  information  that  "other  fellers  were 
along  too,"  no  one  seemed  to  object,  for  the  reason  that  it  was  thor- 
oughly known  that  Hunter  made  topographical  notes  from  day  to  day 
and  had  them  with  him  now,  and  it  was  these  to  which  Ray  so  fre- 
quently referred  as  they  hastened  on. 

Plainly  enough  had  the  captain  seen  the  symptoms  of  growing  ex- 
haustion on  both  his  men  and  mounts, — the  dark  lines  under  the  deep- 
set  eyes,  the  utter  silence  that  prevailed  along  the  dusty  little  company, 
the  painful  stumbling  of  the  horses,  and  the  constant  eifort  needed 
to  keep  closed  on  the  head  of  column.  But  he  knew  his  men,  and 
they  knew  him.  It  was  not  the  first  by  many  times  they  had  been 
called  upon  to  ride  with  life  or  death  the  stake.  Somewhere,  not  three 
hours  ahead,  probably,  was  a  murderous  band  of  Sioux  seeking  to 
redress  undoubted  injuries  by  the  only  method  the  Indian  knows, — the 
blood  of  the  pale-faced  brothers  of  those  that  had  wrought  the  wrong. 
That  these  tourists  had  bought  the  consent  of  their  chief  to  hunt,  camp, 
and  explore  through  the  Indian  lands,  that  they  w^ere  innocent  of 
wrong-doing,  that  they  despised  the  robbers  of  the  red  man  as  much  as 
the  Indian  hated  him,  had  no  bearing  on  the  case.  These  were  white 
men,  rashly  intruding  far  within  the  Brule  lines  at  a  time  when  the 
Great  Spirit,  through  their  medicine-men,  had  sounded  the  call  to  bat- 
tle, and  high  or  low,  rich  or  poor,  English  or  American,  man,  woman, 
or  child,  it  made  no  difference.  That  fated  party  represented  just 
Vol.  LIX.— 34 


530  RAY'S  RECRUIT. 

SO  many  coveted  scalps,  no  more  and  no  less,  and  if  Indian  strategy 
could  compass  their  capture  alive  or  their  destruction  without  the  spill- 
ing of  a  drop  of  Indian  blood,  all  the  more  would  their  warrior  band 
receive  the  acclamations  of  a  tribe  that  worshipped  prowess  like  unto 
that  of  the  prairie  wolf  or  fleet-footed  fox.  Ninety  strong,  led  by  a 
daring  young  chief  whose  father  and  mother  both  had  died  when  the 
soldiers  of  the  Long  Hair  dashed  upon  their  village  some  years  before, 
they  had  cut  loose  from  all  bands  around  the  Ska,  and  hastened  in 
search  of  the  white  invaders  guaranteed  by  old  Rolling  Bear  safe- 
conduct  not  a  week  before. 

And  unerringly  their  instinct  led  them  to  the  lovely  park  country 
on  the  north  side  of  the  hills,  for  there  was  noble  game  in  profusion. 
Thither  must  the  lordly  whites  have  gone,  rich  in  horses,  arras,  stores, 
and  provisions  of  every  kind,  and  for  mouths  the  Sioux  were  starving. 

It  was  the  sight  of  the  fresh  hoof-prints  of  fourscore  ponies  that 
settled  all  question  of  rest  at  the  rivulet  in  the  mind  of  Captain  Ray. 
"  Men,"  said  he,  "  I  hate  to  wear  you  out,  but  before  another  sunrise 
we  must  circumvent  these  fellows,  or  it's  all  up  with  the  tourists." 

There  were  Irish  troopers  in  the  leading  four  who  loved  to  talk  of  the 
Clan  na-Gael  and  Home  Rule  for  Erin  and  death  to  "  England's  cruel 
red"  when  time  hung  heavy  on  their  hands  in  camp  or  barrack.  But 
that  seemed  all  forgotten  now.  Like  the  famous  Mavericks,  they  only 
talked  of  mutiny  when  no  other  fighting  was  to  be  done.  Only  the 
horses  seemed  to  groan  at  the  command  to  mount,  and  once  more  on 
went  the  Sorrels  au  secows. 

An  hour  after  nightfall,  in  the  bright  light  of  the  climbing  moon, 
they  had  splashed  through  another  shallow,  foaming  stream  in  another 
and  narrower  rift  among  the  hills,  two  veteran  sergeants,  with  Ray  and 
Hunter,  well  out  in  front,  when  just  as  the  foremost,  a  shadowy  form, 
rode  warily  to  a  little  point  of  bluff  three  hundred  yards  ahead,  Ray's 
gauntleted  hand  swung  high  his  scouting  hat  in  air,  as  half  turning  in 
saddle  he  signalled  "  Halt !"  for  the  leading  rider  was  gesticulating 
wildly,  and  Sergeant  Conners  came  galloping  back. 

"  Treed  'em,  by  God,  sir !"  he  cried,  in  excitement  irrepressible. 
"  They've  stopped  for  a  scalp-dance.     You  can  hear  'em  ])lain." 

Yes,  faint,  but  distinct,  beating  quicker  every  minute,  the  weird 
throb  of  the  war-drum  could  be  heard,  and  with  it  the  shrill  whoop 
and  yell  of  excited  dancers. 

"  Then  you're  right.  Hunter,"  promptly  spoke  the  captain.  "  That 
can  mean  only  one  thing.  They've  located  the  party  over  in  Keogh's 
Park,  just  where  you  said  they'd  pitch  their  camp,  and  these  beggars 
mean  to  jump  them  at  dawn.  We'll  show  'em  a  trick  worth  ten  of 
that,  won't  we,  Dixie?"  he  continued,  patting  the  neck  of  the  game 
little  sorrel  he  rode.  "  What  blessed  luck  that  they  should  stop  to 
celebrate !" 

Slowly,  cautiously,  the  shadowy  troop  led  forward  to  a  grove  of 
pines  not  far  from  the  water's  edge,  and  close  to  the  sheltering  bluff 
beyond  which  the  warriors  were  having  their  jollification.  There  they 
waited,  breathless,  the  sound  of  revelry  gaining  every  minute  on  the 
night.     Taking  Conners  and  Hunter  with  him,  Ray  crept  forward  to 


RAY'S  RECRUIT.  531 

reconnoitre, — he  and  his  sergeant  veterans  in  the  craft,  Hunter  a  novice, 
whose  heart  beat  wildly,  but  who  never  faltered. 

Fast  and  furious  drove  the  dance.  Loud  and  shrill  arose  the 
whoops  and  war-cries,  dying  away  at  times  like  the  yelp  of  prairie 
wolves  to  faint  and  distant  gurgling,  then  swelling  again  like  the 
chorus  of  hounds  in  full  view  of  the  quarry.  Drum,  rattle,  and 
piercing  whistle  added  to  the  clamor,  echoed  back  from  the  dark,  pine- 
crested  cliffs  that  overhung  this  wild  nook  in  the  hills.  Fresh  fagots 
heaped  upon  the  fire  threw  the  dusky,  writhing  forms,  resplendent  in 
war-bonnet  and  savage  finery,  into  bold  relief,  and  Ray's  brave  heart 
almost  sank  within  him  as  he  counted.  Ponies  they  could  not  see,  for 
they  were  herded  farther  up  the  cove  beyond  the  fire,  but  every  indica- 
tion pointed  to  there  being  well-nigh  a  hundred  well-armed  warriors 
right  there  within  revolver-shot,  while  others,  doubtless,  hovered  like 
watchful  spies  about  the  unsuspecting  camp  beyond  the  range. 

"  We  could  never  get  past  them  without  discovery,"  muttered  the 
captain,  finally.  "  We're  far  too  few  to  drive  them.  How  far  is  it 
back  down  the  valley  and  around  to  the  park?" 

"  Not  less  than  forty  miles,  sir,"  answered  Hunter,  "  though  it  can't 
be  more  than  six  or  seven  over  the  old  game  trail  across  the  range." 

"  Then,"  said  Ray,  "  there's  nothing  for  it  but  to  send  a  brace  of 
men  up  the  heights  afoot  to  warn  the  camp  before  daybreak,  while  the 
troop  hangs  on  to  their  heels." 

It  was  barely  nine  o'clock  now,  and  high  aloft  on  the  northern  side 
of  the  gorge,  glistening  white,  the  cliffs  broke  through  the  sombre 
fringe  of  pine  and  shone  like  silver  in  the  moonlight.  Somewhere 
ahead  of  the  watchers  in  the  black  depths  of  the  westward  end  of  the 
deep  ravine  an  old  game  trail  wound  and  twisted  up  the  mountain  side 
over  into  the  beautiful  park  beyond.  Hunter  well  remembered  and 
had  traced  it  in  his  notes.  Over  this  trail  Lord  Lunemouth's  joyous 
party  had  evidently  gone.  Over  this  the  Indian  scouts  had  tracked 
him.  Over  this  the  war-party  doubtless  meant  to  follow  in  time  to 
make  their  dash  at  daybreak.  Over  this,  neck  or  nothing,  warning 
must  be  sent,  and  the  intermediate  ground  was  so  completely  occupied 
by  the  Indians  that  cavalry  could  not  hope  to  slip  by  undetected.  It 
could  only  be  attempted  by  daring  fellows  afoot. 

And  the  first  man  to  speak  out  when,  in  few  words,  Ray  explained 
the  situation  to  the  troop,  was  that  incorrigible  rascal,  the  Kid.  "  I'm 
game  to  go,  sir." 

"  Good  for  one,"  said  Ray. 

"Here's  another,  sir,"  "And  here,"  "And  here,"  came  in  low  tone 
from  half  a  dozen  in  the  wearied  troop,  but  Ray  waited  for  still  another 
voice,  until,  half  turning,  he  looked  as  though  inquiringly  at  Hunter, 
who  had  already  kicked  off  his  boots  and  was  pulling  on  a  pair  of 
moccasins,  drawn  from  his  saddle-bags.  Then  Hunter  looked  up  and 
spoke. 

"I,  of  course,  sir.  I'm  the  only  man  that  knows  the  way." 
Whereat  Ray's  white  teeth  gleamed  in  the  moonlight,  and  the  men 
knew  all  was  well. 

Three  hours  later  a  strangely  assorted  pair,  a  tall,  slender,  blond- 


532  RAY'S  RECRUIT. 

bearded  raaii;  with  clear-cut,  handsome  features,  and  an  undersized, 
weazen-faced,  devil-may-care  Irish  lad,  dressed  alike  in  dark-blue  shirts 
and  blouses,  in  light-blue  riding-breeches  and  Indian-tanned  leggings, 
girt  with  cartridge-belt  and  revolver,  and  carrying  the  brown  carbine 
in  hand,  halted  for  breath  at  the  very  summit  of  the  divide  between 
Keogh'sPark  and  the  deep  gorge  in  the  southeastward  hills.  Perilous, 
indeed,  had  been  their  journey.  Leaving  their  comrades  well  belo'vf 
the  position  of  the  Indian  camp,  they  had  slowly  scaled  the  clifi's  to 
the  north,  then  crept  along  among  the  pines  until  immediately  above 
the  rejoicing  Indians,  and  then,  slowly  and  cautiously  through  the 
scattered  timber,  followed  westward  by  the  stars  until  at  last  in  a  de- 
pression they  came  upon  the  trail,  easily  recognizable  in  the  occasional 
patches  of  moonlight.  Then,  eager  and  cautious,  they  followed  up,  up 
the  winding  way,  ever  alert  for  sound  of  hoof-beat,  until  at  last  they 
reached  the  crest  and  Hunter's  watch  proclaimed  it  midnight. 

From  a  rocky  point  they  could  see  outspread  beneath  thera  to  the 
northward  a  beautiful  park  country,  faintly  pictured  in  the  silverv 
light,  and,  laying  a  hand  on  his  companion's  sleeve,  Hunter  pointed 
afar  down  to  their  left  front. 

"  The  springs  lie  just  south  of  that  high  butte,"  he  murmured, 
"and  there  we'll  find  their  camp,  if  only  we  can  dodge  the  Indian 
watchers  on  the  way." 

Ay,  there  was  the  rub,  and  there  was  no  time  to  lose.  Ever  watch- 
ful, as  before,  they  began  the  gradual  descent,  peering  from  tree  to  tree, 
flitting  like  shadows  from  rock  to  rock,  until  at  last  they  reached  the 
lower  limit  of  the  timber-line,  and  there  before  them  lay  an  almost 
open  valley,  two  miles  wide,  destitute  of  "  cover"  except  along  the 
stream  that  nearly  equally  divided  it,  and  up  that  stream,  perhaps  two 
miles,  some  white  objects  gleamed  in  the  moonlight  near  a  clump  of 
trees,  and  there  at  Keogh's  Springs,  just  as  Hunter  had  predicted,  lay 
the  threatened  camp. 

But  how  were  they  to  reach  it  unobserved?  for  here  and  every- 
where the  Kid  could  point  out  fresh  pony-tracks,  and  even  as  they 
paused  at  the  belt  of  pines,  away  out  on  the  slopes  beyond,  hidden 
from  camp  by  intervening  rises  in  the  ground,  dark  forms  of  horsemen, 
three  or  four,  were  plainly  visible,  and  the  Kid  could  tell  from  old 
experience  that  nothing  living  would  escape  those  watchers'  eyes. 

But  up  the  slope  the  trees  were  thicker,  and  again,  though  wearily, 
they  sought  their  shelter,  and  slowly  crawled  from  clump  to  clump 
until  towards  three  o'clock  they  were  nearly  opposite  the  sleeping  camp, 
lying  out  there  in  a  lovely  glade,  barely  long  rifle-shot  away. 

Twice,  thrice  they  had  seen  an  Indian  on  nimble  pony,  moving 
cautiously  about,  well  out  of  sight  of  camp.  Time  and  again  the 
coyotes  yelped  and  loud-mouthed  challenge  was  bayed  by  suspicious 
watch-dogs  near  the  tents,  but  still  the  Saxons  slept  all  innocent  of 
danger,  and  time  was  getting  fearfully  short. 

"  What's  to  hinder  our  crawling  out  as  far  as  we  can  go?  then,  if 
we're  seen,  shoot  the  sucker  that  tries  to  stop  us,  and  run  for  it," 
muttered  the  Irishman.     "  It's  the  only  chance  I  see." 

The  moon  was  well  over  to  the  west,  but  still  so  high  her  light 


RAV'S  RECRUIT.  533 

betrayed  every  moving  object  in  the  open  ground;  but,  as  the  Kid 
explained,  there  seemed  to  be  no  other  way.  Down  went  the  two  flat 
upon  their  stomachs,  and  the  slow,  tortuous  process  began.  Before 
they  had  made  a  hundred  yards  Celtic  patience  gave  out.  "  Damned 
if  I  can  stand  this,"  said  the  Irishman.  "There's  not  an  Indian  in 
sight  now.     Come  on.     Let's  run  for  it." 

Suiting  action  to  the  word,  the  little  sinner  was  on  his  feet,  and  in 
another  minute  skimming  away  like  a  racer  to  the  goal. 

And  then  as  Hunter  started  to  follow  he  saw  a  sight  that  made  him 
thrill  with  dread.  As  though  they  sprang  from  the  bowels  of  the 
earth,  two  Indians  on  swift  ponies  darted  into  view,  and,  bending  low 
over  their  chargers'  necks,  lashing  them  to  mad  gallop,  they  fairly  shot 
across  the  resounding,  turf-clad  prairie,  swift  and  straight  towards  the 
scudding  form. 

"  Look  out,  Kid  !  Look  out !"  rang  Hunter's  voice  in  a  yell  that 
woke  the  valley.  Bang !  went  the  Paddy's  ready  carbine  in  reply. 
Dogs,  coyotes,  carbines,  rifles,  Indian  yells,  and  Saxon  blasphemy  burst 
upon  the  silence  of  the  night.  An  Indian  pony  plunged  and  tossed 
his  rider  sprawling  within  a  dozen  yards  of  where  the  Kid  had  turned 
at  bay,  and  Hunter,  rushing  to  the  rescue,  had  just  time  to  kneel,  when 
two  or  three  revolvers  seemed  to  crack  at  once,  and  the  air  was  rent 
with  fire-flashes.  But  the  soldier's  aim  was  true,  and  one  tall  warrior 
toppled  heavily  forward  and  bit  the  dust  as  Hunter  sped  on  to  his 
comrade's  aid.  He  found  him  clasping  his  hands  about  his  knee  and 
rolling  in  agony  on  the  turf. 

"  For  the  love  of  God,  don't  stop  !"  cried  he.  "  They've  smashed 
my  leg,  and  I'm  done  for.  There's  a  dozen  to  one  of  us."  Dozen  or 
not,  they  were  in  for  it  now.  Hunter  knelt,  and,  though  his  heart  beat 
hard,  sent  shot  after  shot  at  every  flitting  form  he  saw,  until,  amazed 
at  the  vigorous  defence,  the  Indians  seemed  to  haul  away.  Then  up 
he  lifted  the  protesting  Kid  and  lugged  him  full  another  hundred 
yards  before  again  he  had  to  drop  him  and  fight.  Then  once  more, 
half  lifting,  half  dragging,  he  rushed  him  on,  cheered  by  the  evidence 
that  the  Indians  dared  not  come  too  close  and  that  camp  was  aroused 
and  blazing  away.  Luckily,  the  guides  had  quickly  realized  what  was 
up.  Luckily,  they  reasoned  that  there  could  be  but  few  Indians  in  the 
immediate  neighborhood,  for  out  they  came — three  or  four — to  the 
succor  of  the  burdened  man,  and  reached  him  only  as,  exhausted  by 
his  efforts  and  by  loss  of  blood  from  a  wound  hardly  noticed  when 
received,  he  sank,  fainting,  to  the  ground,  the  Kid  still  pluckily  swear- 
ing in  his  arms. 

And  so,  an  hour  later,  when  the  Indians  swooped  in  force  upon  the 
camp  they  found  it  thoroughly  prepared,  surrounded  by  hastily  con- 
structed rifle-pits  or  breastworks,  around  which,  five  hundred  yards 
away,  they  dashed  and  yelled  and  kept  up  their  wild  fusillade,  but  both 
times  they  strove  to  charge  three  or  four  saddles  were  emptied  by  the 
cool  aim  of  the  defence,  and  then,  to  cap  the  climax  of  their  discom- 
fiture, out  from  the  foot-hills  burst  their  old  acquaintance  the  sorrel 
troop,  "  Laughing  Lightning,"  as  once  the  Cheyeunes  had  named  Ray, 
cheering  in  the  lead.     And  the  warriors  broke  for  cover,  and  kept  in 


534  RAY'S  RECRUIT. 

cover  at  respectful  distance  until  Mainwaring  himself,  a  whole  day 
later,  with  his  three  comrade  troops,  came  trotting  up  the  valley,  and 
then  they  disappeared  entirely. 

But  meantime  there  had  been  a  meeting  and  recognition  little  looked 
for.  Four  happier  Englishmen  were  never  seen  than  Luneraouth  and 
the  trio  with  him,  for  no  other  reason  than  that  for  a  time  their  lives 
had  been  in  mortal  peril  and  they  had  enjoyed  the  unlooked-for  luxury 
of  a  square  fight.  That  exultation  over,  they  had  had  time  to  thank 
the  American  "Tommies"  to  whose  daring  they  owed  it  that  they  were 
not  massacred  in  their  beds.  Both  troopers  were  wounded,  the  little 
fellow  profanely  voluble,  the  tall  one  strangely  silent.  Over  this  latter 
bent  the  younger  of  the  first  two  Englishmen. 

"You  are  not  much  hurt,  I  hope,  my  good  fellow?     You're 

Good  God  !     You? — Gray?     I  vow  I  heard  you  were  dead." 

A  faint  smile  flitted  about  the  bearded  face,  and  the  prostrate 
soldier  winced  as  he  answered  :  "  And  you,  Rokeby,  I  heard  you  were 
married." 

Even  when  Mainwaring  came,  it  was  useless  to  resume  trooper 
relations,  for  he  found  Hunter  installed  in  the  best  cot  the  tourists 
owned,  the  Kid,  too,  in  clover,  despite  the  pain  of  his  wound.  The 
doctor  said  Hunter's  hurt  would  not  soon  heal,  and  Lord  Lunemouth 
vowed  that  both  were  his  guests  until  they  could  be  safely  moved,  and 
rather  plainly  intimated  to  the  major  that  he  considered  one  particular 
private,  at  least,  of  more  account  than  the  battalion  commander,  which 
was  subversive  of  good  order  and  military  discipline.  Then  of  course 
Mainwaring  had  to  hear  the  truth,  already  known  to  Ray  and  rumored 
throughout  the  Sorrels,  that  their  swell  comrade  was  even  an  older 
friend  of  these  swells  from  abroad. 

"Then  where  in  thunder  was  it  I  met  you  before?"  growled  Main- 
waring, in  distinct  sense  of  personal  injury,  as  he  looked  down  into  the 
placidly  smiling  face  of  the  wounded  trooper,  and  Blake  nearly  ex- 
ploded with  delight  over  the  cool  response  : 

"At  the  armory  of  my  old  regiment,  when  the  major  was  on  re- 
cruiting service  in  New  York  City,  I  had  the  honor  of  being  on  the 
reception  committee  the  night  of  our  ball." 

"  Good  God !"  said  Mainwaring ;  "  and  yet  you  look  just  like  a 
fellow  that  deserted  from  the  Dragoons." 

No,  Hunter  didn't  rise  to  a  commission.  There  was  talk  about  it, 
but  he  had  acquired  other  views.  He  is  said  to  have  remarked  that 
the  "  N.G.N. Y.  would  suffice  in  the  future."  His  wounds  proved 
painful ;  an  honorable  discharge  was  asked  for  and  granted,  and  there 
was  a  big  time  at  the  agency  when  he  and  the  Kid  bade  good-by  to 
their  comrades  and  were  taken  back  to  Ransom  in  an  ambulance,  the 
Kid  "  rich  beyond  the  dreams  of  avarice"  with  the  largesse  of  Lan- 
caster, and  Gray  parted  with  only  after  his  promise  to  spend  a  month 
at  the  ancestral  seat  that  very  year. 

Later  Hunter  went  East.  The  Blakes  and  Rays  heard  from  him 
frequently  for  several  weeks.  He  was  once  more  under  his  uncle's 
roof,  once  more  in  daily  company  with  the  bereaved  widower,  now  re- 


RAY'S  RECRUIT.  535 

stored  to  partial  health  and  unexpected  fortune  since  the  tragic  death 
of  his  wife ;  but  when  the  iiope  of  the  house  of  Lancaster  went  back 
to  England,  Luneraouth's  lung  in  surprising  working  order,  Gray, 
who  might  have  gone,  declined.  The  Langdons  were  still  abroad 
somewhere,  and  Amy  wore  no  coronet.  It  had  somehow  dawned  on 
Rokeby  that  that  coronet  was  an  indispensable  adjunct  to  the  engage- 
ment, and  the  glorious  climate  of  California  had  played  havoc  with 
Amy's  expectations.  There  was  some  society  talk  of  Gray's  going  in 
search  of  that  lovely  but  disappointed  damsel,  and  "  No  doubt,"  said 
he  to  a  serious- faced,  beautiful-eyed  young  woman  with  whom  he  was 
found  limping  along  the  sands  one  August  evening  at  the  sea-shore, 
"  no  doubt  I  should  have  gone  and  been  refused  again,  but  for  just  one 
thing." 

"  And  what  was  that,  pray  ?"  asked  Miss  Leroy,  a  quiver  about 
her  lips  despite  her  nonchalance  of  manner,  for  he  had  been  her  shadow 
since  he  came. 

"This,"  said  he,  taking  from  an  inner  pocket  a  worn  little  glove 
of  undressed  kid.  "  It  was  dropped  by  my  bedside  when  I  lay  in 
hospital  at  Ransom.  I  have  been  looking,  longing  for  the  hand  that 
lost  it,  ever  since." 


THE   END. 


536  OVSTER-PLANTINO  AND   OYSTER-FARMING. 


OYSTER-PLANTING  AND   OYSTER-FARMING. 

SINCE  the  beginning  men  have  delighted  in  the  food  provided  for 
them  by  the  mollusks,  and  the  shell-heaps  which  formed  the 
debris  of  their  feasts  upon  these  delicacies  remain  until  now  in  all 
regions  of  the  world  where  Nature  has  produced  creatures  of  the 
genus  Moll u sea. 

Of  all  species  of  the  mollusks,  the  oyster  has  been  and  is  the 
favorite.  Of  these  Nature  has  been  so  marvellously  prolific  in  their 
development  that  they  are  to  be  found  in  abundance  in  nearly  all  seas. 
And  the  oyster-rocks  have  yielded  a  goodly  proportion  of  the  food  of 
savage  and  civilized  men  in  all  ages,  along  the  shores  of  their  nativity. 

To-day  the  oyster-interest  is  one  of  the  most  important  industries; 
it  gives  employment  to  thousands  of  persons,  and  millions  of  dollars 
of  capital  are  invested  therein.  There  is  a  constantly  growing  de- 
mand for  them,  at  present  much  in  excess  of  their  natural  productive 
power :  so  that  the  increase  of  the  oyster-supply  is  one  of  the  practical 
questions  of  the  time.  By  the  application  of  modern  methods  the 
oyster-grounds  are  made  to  yield  far  beyond  the  natural  supply ;  and 
by  proper  care  they  can  be  made  to  produce  an  almost  unlimited 
quantity. 

In  early  days  oysters  were  to  be  found  in  lavish  abundance  along 
all  our  coasts.  Nearly  all  the  creeks  and  inlets  along  the  sea-coast 
of  New  York  State  abounded  with  a  fine  quality  of  oysters.  In 
Nieuw  Amsterdam,  in  1621, "  very  large  oisters"  were  so  common  that 
a  market  could  not  be  found  for  them,  as  any  one  could  supply  him- 
self from  the  beds.  In  1671  Arnoldus  Montanus,  and  in  1681  Sir 
George  Calvert,  reported  that  the  new  settlements  had  among  other 
advantages  oysters  a  foot  long  in  great  plenty.  Letters  written  about 
the  same  time  contain  such  statements  as  these :  "  At  Amboy  Point 
and  several  other  places  there  is  abundance  of  brave  oysters ;"  "  Oysters 
such  as  I  think  would  serve  all  England ;"  "  We  have  one  thing  more 
particular  to  us,  which  the  others  want  also,  which  is  vast  oyster  banks, 
which  is  the  constant  fresh  victuals  during  the  winter  to  English  as 
well  as  Indians.  Of  these  there  are  many  all  along  our  coast,  from 
the  sea  as  high  as  against  New  York,  whence  they  come  to  fetch 
them." 

Peter  Kalm,  who  wrote  upon  the  subject  in  1748,  says,  "The 
Indians  who  inhabited  the  coast  before  the  arrival  of  the  Europeans 
have  made  oysters  and  other  shell-fish  their  chief  food ;  and  at  present, 
whenever  they  reach  salt  water  where  oysters  are  to  be  got,  they  are 
very  active  in  catching  thega,  and  sell  them  in  great  quantities  to  other 
Indians  who  live  higher  up  in  the  country ;  for  this  reason  you  see  the 
immense  numbers  of  oyster  and  mussel  shells  piled  up  near  such 
places,  where  you  are  certain  that  the  Indians  formerly  built  their 
huts."  He  also  states  that  tiie  oyster-beds  were  within  view  of  the 
town  of  New  York  in  1748,  and  that  the  oystermeu  were  able  to  earn 


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